I couldn't tear my eyes away from the blue silk bracelet on Alexander's wrist—identical to mine down to the last knot. My mind raced for a logical explanation, but found none. How could he possibly know about the bracelet? About me?
"You should eat something," Alexander said softly, his silver eyes never leaving my face as we sat in the Silverfang great hall. "The journey must have been exhausting."
The hall was magnificent—high vaulted ceilings with intricate wooden beams, massive stone fireplaces at either end, and long tables that could seat hundreds. Tonight, though, only a small group dined with us: Seraphina, Elara the healer, and a few pack elders who couldn't hide their astonishment at their Alpha's miraculous recovery.
I picked at my food, too unsettled to have an appetite. Alexander sat beside me, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he'd been unconscious for five years until an hour ago.
"You always twist that strand of hair when you're anxious," he observed, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I froze, my fingers indeed wrapped around a loose strand. I dropped my hand immediately.
"And you've always preferred jasmine tea with a touch of honey, especially when you're upset," he continued, nodding toward the steaming cup Seraphina had placed before me moments ago. "You used to say it reminded you of your mother."
My breath caught. I'd never told anyone that—not even Ryan.
"How could you possibly know that?" I whispered.
A small smile played on his lips. "I told you. We've met before, in another life."
"That's impossible."
"Is it?" He leaned closer, his scent—pine and something wild—enveloping me. "Then how do I know that you sleep with your left hand under your pillow? Or that you hum to yourself when you think no one's listening?"
My heart hammered against my ribs. These weren't just lucky guesses—they were intimate details about habits I'd never shared with anyone.
"I don't understand," I admitted, my voice barely audible.
"You will," he promised. "Give it time."
A server appeared, replacing our plates with dessert—some kind of delicate pastry. As I reached for my fork, the edge of my finger caught on a tiny shard of broken china that had somehow remained on the table. A sharp sting, and a drop of blood welled up.
"Ouch," I muttered, more startled than hurt.
Before I could react, Alexander's hand shot out, capturing my wrist. In one fluid motion, he pressed the pad of his thumb against the small cut, his eyes darkening as they met mine. The touch sent a jolt of electricity up my arm, warming my entire body.
Then, never breaking eye contact, he lifted my finger to his mouth and gently licked the blood away.
A collective gasp rose from those watching. Even I knew what this meant in werewolf culture—an intimate gesture reserved for mates, the mingling of blood a sacred bond.
Heat rushed through me, pooling low in my belly. My wolf—the one I'd never felt, never heard—stirred somewhere deep inside, a faint whisper I couldn't quite grasp.
"I—" I pulled my hand back, overwhelmed. "I need some air."
I fled the hall, ignoring the concerned calls behind me. Outside, the cool night air cleared my head somewhat, but my finger still tingled where his lips had touched it.
I wandered aimlessly, eventually finding myself near what must be the pack's border gate—a large stone archway with the Silverfang emblem carved above it. Leaning against the cool stone, I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.
"Well, well. The wolfless wonder herself."
My eyes snapped open. Madison Walsh stood before me, her lips curled in a sneer. She looked out of place here, her tight dress and excessive jewelry at odds with the Silverfang Pack's more understated elegance.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, instinctively backing away.
"Just checking on my... competition." She laughed, the sound brittle and cold. "Though I can hardly call you that, can I? A wolfless omega playing at being Luna."
I flinched. "How did you—"
"Everyone knows, Luna." She stepped closer, her perfume cloying and overwhelming. "The pathetic late bloomer who couldn't even keep her childhood sweetheart interested. And now you think you can just walk into one of the most powerful packs and become their Luna?"
She reached out, her red-painted nails tracing the air near my cheek. I jerked away.
"You don't belong here," she hissed. "And when I tell everyone in the realm about your... condition, they'll see what a joke this mating really is."
Before I could respond, a low growl rumbled through the night air. Madison's eyes widened, her face draining of color as she looked past me.
"Step away from my mate."
