Rhea
Draven had been simmering with rage ever since I struck Mirielle. He hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with me since the incident. When he did, his tone was icy, his demeanor distant and cold. But I wasn’t bothered. Let him loathe me. Let his anger consume him. It no longer made a difference.
By tomorrow, I was supposed to officially take my place as his Luna. The entire pack was preparing for the grand ritual—our formal union. It was to be the moment Alpha Draven marked me as his mate, binding us together in an eternal tie.
But I had no intention of letting it happen.
That night, I slipped away from the packhouse without drawing attention. My heart hammered in my chest as I moved swiftly and silently through the dimly lit streets. I kept my cloak’s hood drawn low over my face, body tense, every sense alert for the presence of wandering eyes. I couldn’t afford to be intercepted—not tonight.
By the time I arrived at the hotel, he was already there.
Alpha Damon sat quietly in a shadowed corner of the lobby, his piercing gaze locking onto mine the second I entered. He didn’t offer a warm greeting. There was no smile, no pretense of friendliness. He stood, movements smooth and deliberate, and gave a single nod toward the elevator.
I followed without a word, my throat dry and hands cold.
There was no room left for second thoughts.
We stepped into a private suite, the door clicking softly as it shut behind us. The space around us pulsed with tension—heavy, unspoken.
“Is this what you want?” His voice was calm but unwavering, eyes boring into mine with quiet intensity.
I gave a firm nod. This was the only path left to me.
I couldn’t afford to repeat the past.
He stepped forward, his presence overwhelming—tall, commanding, his scent wrapping around me like forest and fire. Pure Alpha.
Before I had a chance to fully register it, he leaned close. His lips brushed the sensitive spot at the base of my neck, directly over my scent gland.
When his fangs sank in, I gasped.
A sharp, searing pain exploded across my skin, immediately followed by a deeper, more primal sensation—like something old and sacred had been awakened inside me.
In that instant, the bond clicked into place, tight and irreversible, like a cord pulling taut between our souls.
His bite was deep and assertive, a claim written into my very blood. My body responded instinctively—fangs emerging, senses heightening—as the connection surged through us like wildfire.
He held my gaze, his eyes glowing with the same intensity I felt coursing through me.
This was real. I was now linked to a man I barely understood.
Yet, as that powerful pull settled deep within me—as something inside recognized that I was no longer alone—I realized I had made the right decision.
My turn.
I leaned in, pressing my lips to the side of his neck. I inhaled slowly, grounding myself in his scent, then bit down hard on his gland.
A sharp breath escaped him. His hands gripped my waist, muscles tightening as the bond locked in from my end. I felt the connection ignite again, deeper this time, fusing us in a way that transcended words or logic.
The heat between us. The magnetic pull.
It was real. Unbreakable now.
There was no going back.
---
The following morning, my nerves were frayed.
The mark on my neck still tingled with heat. I could feel the bond humming beneath my skin, a constant reminder of what I had done—who I now belonged to. Every sense was alert, as if my body knew I wasn’t meant to be here.
And yet, no one suspected a thing.
I stood at the altar, staring straight ahead, my face unreadable. Alpha Draven stood across from me, his features carved from stone. His gaze was hard, lacking any warmth. There was no reassurance in his stance, no affection in his eyes. If I had ever foolishly hoped that he would see me—truly see me—and choose me with his heart, that hope had died long ago.
But I wasn’t here for love. I was here to put an end to the illusion we had both been clinging to.
The ceremony unfolded in carefully rehearsed steps, each moment bringing us closer to the irreversible. When it came time for the rings, Draven was the first to act.
Without hesitation, he lifted the band and slid it onto my finger, the movement mechanical, almost detached.
As the officiant continued with the sacred vows behind us, my mind wandered. Flashes of last night flickered in my thoughts—Damon’s bite, the pulse of the bond, the way my soul had settled in his presence.
“I do,” Draven’s voice interrupted, flat and clipped. It lacked even the courtesy of pretense, his tone sharp enough to draw a few confused whispers from the guests.
I felt a muscle twitch in my jaw.
Then came my part. I reached for the second ring but stopped midway. The officiant turned to me, the traditional words falling into place like dominoes.
“Rhea, do you accept Alpha Draven as your bonded mate and husband? Will you love him, stay loyal through joy and pain, youth and age, for the rest of your shared life?”
Silence followed.
I didn’t answer.
My hand hovered, then slowly dropped to my side. I hesitated.
The air seemed to freeze. All eyes turned toward me, puzzled murmurs rising like smoke. Even Draven, ever composed, blinked, his eyes narrowing as confusion flickered across his face.
But I wasn’t looking at him anymore.
I was staring at the grand doors at the back of the hall.
Something in me strained toward them, waiting. Hoping.
Draven followed my gaze, tension radiating off of him.
What’s taking so long?
Where is he?
The officiant, clearly flustered, cleared his throat and began again.
“Rhea, will you pledge yourself to Draven—through fortune and—”
Suddenly, the massive double doors were flung open, crashing against the walls with a thunderous bang.
