LAST READER SHOUT-OUT BEFORE WE SAY GOODBYE:

Thank you, Drama_Spoiler for being the most diligent and supportive voter Dane and Delilah have had for this entire ride. You never gave up!

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Thank you, @Nessa52268 for helping me nail THAT scene--and for being as sick in the head as I am so I didn't have to feel bad about it.

Thank you, @Citrus_Time for always asking the questions I dreamed readers would want to know the answers to. With that said, I still #BlameCitrus.

And thank you Canjln09, Alexis_Ingraham, and Debbe_Phillips for being, quite literally, Dane's biggest supporters. Your investment in this story humbles me. I hope you enjoy today's chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Now strap in, because it's time...

*****

Dane

Unable to resist, he pulled her sideways and down. She gave a little shriek, but laughed as soon as she realized what he was doing. While she repositioned herself to lay with her head on the other arm of the couch, he stood up, dropped his pants, then took hers at the waist and peeled them down her legs.

She arched as the cool night air pebbled her skin, and she gasped his name, reaching for him. But he paused for a second, sitting at her feet, and staring at her, bare from the waist down, and rather rumpled everywhere else.

"Dane, what it is?" she asked, her eyes on his, concerned.

He shook his head. "I just... I feel like I'm going to explode," he said in a strangled voice. "I didn't know I could feel happy. You make me happy, Lila."

She sat up, reaching for his face, pulling him in to a kiss that started sweet, but soon turned heated. "You are my happy, Dane."

One hand cupping her neck, he urged her to lay down, and positioned himself to crawl up her body. But even though she shivered and reached for him, he took his time, kissing, starting at the inside of her knee, and working his way up, licking and kissing, humming when she tensed, and sucking where it made her cry out.

"Dane, please..."

Then he slid himself up her body until they were chest to chest and he curled over her, one hand in her hair, the other at her waist.

"I love you, Lila," he breathed into her ear as he entered her, slowly, so slowly it made him groan.

She cried out and dropped her head back, gasping, not breathing as he began to move, and she met him stroke for stroke, their bodies rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that stole her breath.

For a while, all he could do was feel her and marvel. But when she started making those tiny noises at every thrust, he braced himself on the couch and reared up to watch her.

Watching her like that, so abandoned, so completely trusting... Something in Dane's chest began to bloom and expand, that feeling he'd had when he watched her earlier, only somehow growing, expanding, until it wrapped around his ribs, swelled in his veins, and made his heart pump until he was afraid it might burst with the memory of how she'd stayed, how she'd insisted on loving him, and all the way's she'd healed him. Starting with the day she'd told him he needed to do that damned press conference…

…She'd stared at him, hands up so he wouldn't interrupt her. "Just please let me say this one thing: you're enough."

Dane blinked, then frowned. He straightened, looking confused. "What?"

Lila kept her voice low. "I don't know about your past, you're right. But there's certain things I recognize and I just want you to know: when you speak about yourself, your life, your business . . . it's enough. You shine. And I think no one's ever told you that before. So, I want you to know, this isn't about strategy. It's not about manipulation—that would be a death knell for this company right now. The only thing this needs is you, Dane. You. The man. Not the CEO. You understand? Whatever's true, just say that. I'll handle the rest…"

The memory left him shaking. He sighed her name as Lila gasped and he was reminded of all the ways she'd loved him when she'd never loved anyone before…

…He moaned. He couldn't speak. He didn't have any words. So, he cupped her face with one hand as he kissed her, then pulled her knee over his hip and without any warning, pushed into her, bellowing with the rush as every nerve-ending in his body lit up at once.

She cried out too, and pulled at him. "Yes!"

Unable to express what he felt, he had to show her. He braced his elbows on the bed above her shoulders, curved his hands around the top of her head and thrust. Her head tipped back and she sucked in an open-mouthed breath as he did it again, and again, and again. No slow preamble. No gentle questions. He took her, desperately—then almost cried when she opened herself and welcomed him.

Her hands slapped on his back when she reached for him. Her kisses were broken and disjointed. The noises in her throat guttural as he invaded her.

It wasn't just love, it was frenzied need. He called her name over and over, and she cried his until they both tumbled over the peak…

"Oh, Lila..."

"Don't stop Dane," she gasped and he looked down at her and found himself tumbling down into the memories of all the impossible ways she'd made his life glitter. That night he'd seen her at the fundraiser and his entire body had been captivated….

"…What's wrong?" she'd gasped, reaching for him when they were finally in the car.

"Don't touch me!" he croaked. "I swear I will tear that dress off you if you so much as sneeze on me right now."

She froze, her fingers just inches from his shoulder, then pulled them back quickly. "You're not serious…are you?"

He turned his head enough to glare at her. "What. Were. You. Thinking?"

"About what?"

"That dress," his voice slid up an octave. He cleared his throat. "It's… you're…"

She looked down at herself. "Don't you like it?"

"Like it?" he hissed. "You look like… like… walking sex!"

She blinked and pulled her head back. "Did you just say I look like a prostitute?"

"No!" Dane groaned and sat back, pinching his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at her. "I called you walking sex. You look like… like… fuck, you're a wet dream, Lila."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Forgive me if I'm not at my most articulate, all the blood in my body has currently migrated South," he snapped.

Lila snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth when he glared at her sideways.

"You think this is funny? One of the patrons tonight is Margaret Dilly. She's ninety four and still wears those dresses with the necks that cover you to the chin. She's also about four feet tall. I'm going to be pitching a tent right at her eye level."

Lila spluttered into her hand, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

"I'm not joking, Lila."

"I can't… I mean… stop…" she stammered, clutching her stomach. "Could you imagine the… the… headlines?" she cackled.

"Unfortunately, I can imagine very easily!"

"No, Dane," she gasped between giggles. "The HEAD lines," and she dissolved into belly laughter, clutching her chest—which was a good thing, because the way she was leaning forward he'd have gotten a good eyeful of her chest. Next to the thigh she was showing, he might have tipped over the edge and actually leapt on her…

He blinked back to the present when she gasped his name again. And it occurred to him as he sank into her again, and again... He didn't need to leap this time. This time he was already there. All in. Everything he could offer on the table.

And he'd never been happier.

Her hands never left him, exploring his neck, shoulders, and chest. But her eyes were closed and her head back. "I love you, Lila," he gasped against her lips.

"I love you, so much, Dane. So much."

As their bodies met over and over, and their voices rose together in the night air, Dane felt his heart break open as it had so many times before.

But this time, instead of bleeding out, his heart reached for hers—her also broken, also swelling heart.

"Lila," he groaned. "You're mine, my perfect. Forever."

"Forever, Dane!" she gasped. "I'll never stop loving you."

He took her mouth, still whispering all the things he couldn't stop feeling. And when she arched into his chest and cried out her love, and Dane shouted his, their hearts flooded, healing together and whole, as one.

***** KEEP READING AFTER THE AUTHOR NOTE TO MEET ANOTHER AMAZING STORY! *****

AUTHOR NOTE: I can't believe we made it! You're amazing! Thank you for not giving up on Dane and Delilah! There's a couple fun and important notes below...

1. DO YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT? For DANGEROUS readers only, you can now join my discord author chat where we have discussion rooms specifically for Dane's story and now the spoiler room is open to everyone! Join me/us there by registering on the discord app or website, then manually entering this link: https://discord.gg/92g42X4nRv (You may need only the letters at the end.)

2. Tomorrow's chapter is an important note about this story and the characters in it, how they were developed, and why. But it is from me, the Author, and while it will inform a lot of what you've read, it does not add to the end of the story. Please feel free to skip that chapter as I cannot include it without making it a paid chapter.

3. I am so grateful for you! Thank you for all the time and money you spent to get here. You are a blessing to my life, and I'm touched that you have embraced Dane the same way I have. Seriously, you make me weepy! Now... if you're looking for another hot Alpha, check out Reth in "Falling in Love with the King of Beasts" (excerpt below) or his son-in-law Aaryn in "Taming the Queen of Beasts."

Or, if you just need a break, use that link above to join my discord and tell me all your thoughts. I LOVE to hear from readers who love my characters as much as I do! And now I can answer ALL THE QUESTIONS!

If I don't see you tomorrow, just know that you've been a blessing to me by walking all the way through Dane's story. Thank you. Seriously. I'm humbled.

FALLING IN LOVE WITH THE KING OF BEASTS

CHAPTER 1 - The Nightmare

ELIA

Elia blinked a few times, but the scene before her of a forest of twisted trees under an indigo moonlit sky was impossible, so she closed her eyes and tried to wake up.

She had been at the Patron's Ball in Henderson House at the University. And she'd been drinking—this must be a drunk dream.

She opened her eyes again, but now her view was blocked by the face of a woman with a very thin, angular face, tilted sideways, staring at her from just a few inches away.

Elia gasped and tried to push herself back, away from the strange woman, her hands scrabbling on dirt. She very definitely wasn't at the university anymore. And she wasn't at home in bed, either. This was no dream.

"Wh—where am I?"

The woman knelt in the dirt in front of her, very graceful as she clasped her hands in front of her. Her face was kind, but her features very sharp. "You're in Wildwood," she said in a high voice and tipped her head to the side again, as if Elia should know where that was. "Look around you, child, meet your destiny."

"My—what?"

The woman extended her hand, the long, bell-like sleeves of her thick robe swinging like a bird's wing as she opened her hand to the forest around them and Elia turned and gasped, scrambling to her feet.

She was in an almost perfectly round clearing surrounded by trees whose branches twisted and twined together. The trees were silhouetted in moonlight so bright, it made everything look silver and cast shadows on the dirt and grass. Shadows of a hundred people or more stood shoulder-to-shoulder between the trees.

"The sacrifice is frightened," a shaky voice whispered behind her, and was immediately shushed by others. "What? It is only the truth!"

"Lane, shut your mouth, or we'll put you back into the nursery herd and you'll have to wait another year for your coming out." The angry bleat—deeper, a man's voice—came from the same direction.

Elia whirled to see where the voice came from, but the trees were thicker behind her, so she found only the silent figures, strangers staring at her.

"What is this? Where am I? How did I get here?"

"Your questions are normal, of course. But really quite pointless. The ritual is about to begin. You would do better to make peace with your god if you have one," the woman in front of her said.

"Tell me where I am, and who are these people?" her voice shook—and so did her body.

The woman sighed and fluffed her thick robe.

"If you wish to spend your final moments in the search for truth, very well. But know your questions will only bring more questions. You are in Wildwood. You were brought here as a sacrifice—one who fights for the pleasure of the King. It is a rare honor, though I know you were not raised in your world to appreciate it. You will likely not survive the night, but your death is not in vain. It will assure the survival of the Anima. You should take great pride in it."

Elia's mouth dropped open. "A sacrifice? What king? Who the hell are you people?"

The woman sighed and made a small clucking noise. "You see, I did tell you, the questions would only bring more questions. Hear me, then prepare yourself: When the drums begin to beat, the others will enter and the fighting will begin. Show yourself worthy for the choosing. Die with honor."

"Die?! I'm not fighting anyone—"

"You do not have a choice." The woman ruffled the robe again. "If you do not fight you will be slain. It is not an honorable death."

"Stop talking about me dying! I'm not dying. This is a—a dream, or a hallucination, or something!"

"No," the woman said firmly and stepped close. So close, Elia put her hands up to stop her in case this fighting was about to begin. Her fingers brushed the woman's robe—it wasn't fur after all, it was feathers. Soft, tiny feathers. But Elia didn't have time to consider what that meant before the woman continued, her eyes fixed on Elia's with a fierce light. "This is not a dream. You are no longer in your world, and the chances of you ever returning to it dim with every moment you refuse to fight. You must accept that your life has been altered and meet the challenge before you, or you will die, Elia."

"How do you know my name?"

"You were chosen for this. Selected by—" A deep, rhythmic boom rang between the trees and the crowd shifted, whispering. The woman cut off and turned, staring in the direction of the moonlight. "He comes," she said breathlessly. "And the other sacrifices also. Give your life to please him and you will be honored by the tribes." Then she bowed to Elia, muttered a few words under her breath, and with a snap of her robe, disappeared to join the circle under the trees.

Gaping, Elia turned in the direction of the drums. Between the two largest trees directly under the full moon, more than a dozen people walked slowly, their steps taken in time with the drums' beat. There didn't seem to be lines or order to how the people were gathered, but they moved in clusters, all of them walking before a tall figure, still deep in the dark under the more distant trees, a drummer at his elbow keeping the time, and several behind him in a line, their instruments echoing in the chill night air.

As the first of the people at the front emerged from the shadows and she could finally see them in the silver light, Elia covered her mouth with her hands.

They were all women.

They were all painted, their bodies dotted and lined in swipes of some kind of paint that glowed white in the moonlight, making patterns on them that resembled spots, stripes, feathers, and fur.

But, other than the paint… they were all completely naked.

Elia looked in every direction, searching wildly for a way out, an escape from this nightmare—who were these people? And what were they going to do? But everywhere she turned, she met eyes fixed on her, sometimes teeth bared, and a wall of bodies that did not move to give her ground.

Then the drums stopped.

Elia turned on her heel as the man who was clearly this King the woman had spoken of, finally stepped out of the darkness and into the moonlit clearing.

Head and shoulders taller than anyone near him, and a chest so broad he seemed to threaten the trees, he stepped into the circle bringing with him an air of violence only barely leashed, a sense of sheer animal power. His hair fell into his eyes, and the thick, fur collar of his vest that looked like a massive lion's mane framed his angular face and light eyes.

Under the high-collared vest that fell to sweep around his knees, he wore leather pants and no shirt. His biceps, chest, and abdomen were oiled and shining in the moonlight.

He was perhaps the most carnal man Elia had ever laid eyes on, and he scanned the clearing as if it—and everyone within it—belonged to him.

There was a rustle in the trees and Elia realized everyone watching had bowed to him—including the naked women who had spaced themselves around the circle, each of them facing him with their heads bowed. Everyone, that is, except Elia. She swallowed hard as they all straightened, the watchers in the trees leaning in, breathless and waiting for him to speak.

But Elia froze. Because as he raised his great head and scanned the clearing, his eyes locked on her and for a split-second the light of recognition burned in them. There was a crystal moment during which their gazes held and Elia would have sworn he called her name—yet his lips didn't move.

She blinked and sucked in a breath.

But his face remained a flat mask. Then he dragged his gaze to her left, and as he continued to scan the crowd, opened his mouth and began to speak.

*****

CHAPTER 2 - THE RITE

RETH

He hated this.

Every step alongside the drums grated on Reth like a claw drawn down his spine.

He knew his people needed the ancient traditions, to feel the instincts of their ancestors speaking in the tribes. But the Rite of Survival was brutal. Uncivilized. Deadly. It appeased the flesh, but did nothing for the mind.

So, he dreaded every step he took towards the circle. And hated that as King he couldn't denounce it—the opposite, in fact. He had to protect the traditions no matter how terrible they were. This night would end with blood on his hands, with the copper tang of it in his mouth.

Reth let a low growl flicker in his throat. The drummer next to him eyed him warily.

Slowly, slowly they made their painful way towards the bloodbath. While there was no doubt he's seen that the Pure humans were often marked by weakness of both body and mind, it was also true that were he a human ruler he'd likely never find himself overseeing a fight-to-the-death in which the females fought to become his mate.

There were some things the purists got right.

The drums pounded on until finally Reth took his first step into the clearing, turning, nodding to show himself to his people, who murmured and chattered their excitement as they bowed their submission to him. Most of them. He knew some bowed with gritted teeth and unsheathed claws. But, at least for now, they disguised their treason.

Reth scanned the circle slowly, letting his scent call the devotion of the loyal.

Until he reached the northern end of the clearing and his eyes landed on the Pure One that had been chosen.

It was like a set of claws to his belly. Only years of training and discipline stopped Reth's jaw from falling open in shock.

"Elia?" he breathed to himself.

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible.

It also couldn't be a coincidence. Yet, no one knew. And if she was here… she was destined for death.

The thought turned his stomach cold.

She froze in his gaze—not because she recognized him, but because some long-buried instinct within her understood the danger he posed. She responded to his presence, not his person.

How was it possible that she was here?

Instinctively he turned to look at the wolves. He was certain this was their doing. But he couldn't let himself show her any special attention—or let them know they'd succeeded in unsettling him. So, after he'd met eyes with every single Alpha in the packs, he moved on to the other tribes. But his mind turned back to her with every passing breath.

"Welcome, Anima!" he called across the night to the answering chorus of barks, coughs, calls and applause. "You come tonight in memory of your ancestors. The sacrifices you offer will ensure the strongest blood continues to flow in the veins of Anima's Rulers. These offerings will be honored for generations. The Clan Leader and his father, and his father's father thank you."

He paused for effect—and to receive their applause—but he was forced to suck in a deep breath to brace himself. "Tonight the future of Anima will step forward. Tonight the Tribes receive their Queen!"

The response would have sounded chaotic to human ears, but Reth could pick out the Chitter of warning from the birdlike Avalines, the nicker of submission from the horse-blood Equines, the snarls of the wolfish Lupines—even the toadlike Amphines raised their croaks, along with the other tribes. All of Anima was represented tonight, and despite their different hopes for this night, all anticipated the next step.

Even Reth.

He didn't know how the Wolves had found Elia, but he knew the Lupine battle strategy was second to none. He could do nothing to save her without weakening the position of the entire Kingdom. The thought tore a snarl from his throat that echoed across the chatter and silenced the crowd.

He let the silence hang in the air to remind the wolves who was in control.

He kept his face blank of emotion, knowing they'd be watching him closely. "Only on this night, once per generation, do we bring the Pure to Anima to offer them the chance to prove their blood. And so, I call on the Tribes to recognize our human sister, the Pure." He swept a hand toward Elia, and the Tribes answered with their hisses, croaks, barks, and bleats, each calling to her ancient human blood in their own tongue.

It was tradition to give the Pure sacrifice a chance to speak words to be remembered by. And so as they quieted, Reth held his breath, forcing himself to pretend disinterest in what she might say, despite his entire body yearning to lean closer.

She stared, open-mouthed at the crowds, and at him, as they all waited. It took her a moment to realize they wouldn't speak until she did. But it was with a sinking heart that Reth heard her words.

"I… I don't even know you people! Why am I here?"

Murmurs rose in the circle—some with discomfort, others amused. There was a great variety of opinions about continuing the tradition of bringing a Pure One into the Rite. But no matter how soft-hearted, Anima would never respect a show of fear.

Reth didn't miss that as the crowd murmured their thoughts to each other, Lucine—the Lupine sacrifice—widened her eyes at Elia and drew a hooked finger across her throat. To anyone from Anima, she would have clawed her belly to make the threat. But she knew enough of humans to understand that they would miss the reference to the wolves' practice of disemboweling prey.

"Let's get this shitshow on the road," he muttered under his breath. He nodded once and the drummer next to him snapped his stick down on the drum three times in quick succession. "Let the Rite begin!" Reth roared and was answered by the crowd as the women within the circle leapt to life—or rather, to death.

Turning to take his place in the circle, he knew he couldn't allow his face to fall or give away his pity for Elia. But he felt it to his bones. Pity for her, and rage for the wolves who had hunted her down. But also for himself.

Elia didn't deserve to die because he had been too weak to finish his enemies.

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