The coffee ritual started without me deciding it would.
I woke up that first week thinking I'd make my own cup and retreat to some corner of this too-large house. But Kade drank his black, same as me, and the machine was in the kitchen, and it seemed stupid to make two separate pots.
So I made both.
I measured the grounds with the same precision I'd always used—three scoops, leveled, water to the fill line. It was the one part of my morning I could control, the one ritual Tyler's rejection hadn't touched. The smell of it brewing was comfort in a house that still felt like someone else's.
By the fourth morning, I didn't think about it anymore. I just made two cups.
On the seventh morning, Kade was already in the kitchen when I came down.
He stood by the window, dressed in dark jeans and a sweater that made his shoulders look broader than they should. The early light caught his profile. He turned when I entered, and something in his expression went soft.
I stopped.
He was watching me. Not the guarded, careful watching he usually did. This was—undefended. Warm. Like I was something he'd been waiting for and had just remembered he was allowed to want.
I looked away. Focused on the coffee machine.
"Good morning," he said quietly.
"Morning."
I went through the motions. Three scoops. Leveled. Water to the line. My hands were steady. Behind me, I felt his attention like heat on my back.
The machine hissed and dripped. The silence stretched.
When the pot was full, I poured two cups. Set his in front of him without looking up. "Black."
"Thank you."
His hands wrapped around the mug. Both of them, like he needed the warmth. I took my own cup and moved to the window, putting distance between us, staring out at the estate grounds.
The forest line was dark against the morning sky. Mist hung low over the grass. It was beautiful in a way that made my chest tight.
I touched the right side of my neck without meaning to. The unmarked spot. My fingers found it automatically, a habit I hadn't noticed forming.
Behind me, Kade's breathing was quiet and even.
Neither of us spoke.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable. That was the problem. It felt—intimate. Like we'd done this a hundred times before. Like the space between us was something we both understood without needing to name it.
I pulled my hand away from my neck. Took a long drink of coffee.
"We have an event tonight," Kade said finally. His voice was careful again. The unguarded moment had passed. "A Pack Banquet. Allied territory."
I turned. "Do I need to be there?"
"Yes." He met my eyes. "You're my contract mate. They'll expect to see you."
Contract mate. The words sat wrong between us.
"Fine," I said. "What do I wear?"
His mouth curved slightly. "I've arranged something."
Of course he had.
---
The coat arrived that afternoon.
White fur, trimmed with silver threading that caught the light. It was heavier than it looked, lined with silk, cut to fit me like someone had taken measurements I didn't remember giving.
I stared at it.
"Lycan-level status," Kade said from the doorway. "Every wolf in that room will recognize what it means."
I ran my fingers over the fur. It was impossibly soft. "You're marking me."
"I'm making a statement."
"What statement?"
He stepped into the room. Stood close enough that I could smell him—cedar and night-blooming jasmine, warm and overwhelming. My wolf stirred.
"That you're mine," he said quietly. "And that anyone who questions it will answer to me."
My breath caught.
He reached past me, lifted the coat from its hanger. Held it open. "May I?"
I turned. Let him drape it over my shoulders.
His hands lingered at my collar, adjusting the fit. His fingers brushed the side of my neck—the unmarked side—and my wolf whined.
I stepped away. "Thank you."
His eyes were dark. Unreadable. "You're welcome."
---
The banquet hall was massive.
Crystal chandeliers. Polished floors. Tables set with white linens and silver that gleamed under the lights. Wolves in formal wear filled the space—Alphas, Lunas, high-ranking pack members from half a dozen territories.
Every head turned when we entered.
Kade's hand found the small of my back. The touch was light, possessive, unmistakable. He guided me through the crowd with the easy confidence of someone who'd never questioned his right to any room he walked into.
His scent wrapped around me. Marked me. I felt it settle into my skin, my hair, the fabric of the coat. Every wolf we passed would smell him on me.
My wolf preened.
We were halfway across the room when I saw them.
Tyler and Colette.
She wore a deep blue gown that hugged her frame, her hair swept up, the Iron Ridge Luna pendant at her throat. She walked beside Tyler with her hand on his arm, her expression cool and proprietary.
Not sweet anymore. Not humble.
She'd gotten what she wanted. She was done performing.
Tyler's eyes found mine across the room. Something moved in his face—regret, maybe, or longing dressed up as concern.
I looked away.
Kade's hand pressed slightly firmer against my back. "Wait here."
He left me standing by one of the tall windows. Moved through the crowd with that careful, deliberate grace. Spoke quietly to someone I didn't recognize. Returned with a small velvet box.
The crowd had gone quieter. Watching.
Kade opened the box.
Inside was a pendant—a blood-moon ruby the size of my thumbnail, set in platinum, hanging from a delicate chain. The stone caught the light and held it, deep red and flawless.
"A symbol of Lycan royal favor," Kade said. His voice carried just enough. "Worn only by those under the direct protection of the Bennett line."
He lifted the chain from the box. Stepped close.
"May I?" he asked again. Quieter this time. Just for me.
I nodded.
He moved behind me. Draped the chain around my throat. His fingers brushed my nape as he fastened the clasp, slow and deliberate, and my skin burned where he touched.
The pendant settled against my collarbone. Heavy. Warm. Unmistakable.
A claim.
Kade's hands lingered on my shoulders for a moment. Then he stepped back.
I touched the ruby. Felt its weight.
Across the room, Colette's face had gone pale.
Tyler wasn't looking at me anymore. He was staring at the floor.
Kade offered me his arm. "Shall we?"
I took it.
We walked through the banquet hall together, and I felt every single wolf's attention follow us. The coat. The pendant. Kade's hand steady on my arm.
I was marked. Claimed. Protected.
And for the first time since the Ceremony, I felt something other than broken.
