The air in the Northern Stronghold was different now—thicker, charged, humming with something I couldn’t name. Not just magic. Not just power. Belonging. The wolves moved through the torch-lit corridors with a new rhythm, their steps sure, their eyes no longer wary but watchful, protective. They didn’t just tolerate me. They acknowledged me. A nod here. A low bow there. A silent promise in the way they stepped aside when I passed. I wasn’t just Kaelen’s mate. I was theirs.
And I—
I was still learning how to wear it.
The bond pulsed beneath my skin, steady, deep, real. The mark on my neck throbbed faintly, a constant reminder. Mine. Claimed. Bound. But it wasn’t just the magic that weighed on me. It was the truth. The memory of what I’d seen—what I’d felt—in the dreams, in the visions, in the raw, unfiltered gaze of Kaelen’s golden eyes when he whispered, “I love you.”
I had come here to destroy him.
And instead, I had chosen him.
Not out of duty.
Not out of magic.
Out of love.
And the worst part?
I didn’t regret it.
—
The Moon Festival was tonight.
Not just a celebration. A ritual. A claiming.
Every full moon, the Northern Packs gathered in the courtyard beneath the open sky, the bonfires roaring, the drums pounding, the wolves shifting into their true forms, their howls rising into the night. It was a time of renewal. Of loyalty. Of truth. And tonight—
It was mine.
Kaelen hadn’t said it. Not in words. But I could feel it in the way his hand lingered on the small of my back when we walked. In the way his golden eyes burned when he looked at me, not with possession, but with reverence. In the way he had carried me from the ritual chamber, his arms unyielding, his voice rough with fear when he said, “You reckless, brilliant woman. You could’ve died.”
But I hadn’t.
Because he was there.
And he would always be.
—
The courtyard had been transformed. Torches lined the stone walls, their flames flickering with blue and gold, casting long shadows that danced like spirits. The bonfires roared in the center, their heat pressing against my skin, their light painting the wolves in hues of fire and shadow. The air smelled of pine, smoke, and something deeper—wolf musk, thick and primal. The pack stood in a wide circle, their eyes sharp, their steps deliberate. Some were in human form, dressed in ceremonial leathers, their hair braided with silver thread. Others were already shifting, their bones cracking, their fur rippling beneath their skin, their growls low and hungry.
And in the center—
A space.
Empty.
Waiting.
For us.
Kaelen stood beside me, his coat pulled tight over broad shoulders, his presence a wall of heat and muscle. His hand rested on the small of my back, warm, steady. The bond pulsed between us—hot, heavy, alive. The mark on my neck throbbed faintly, a constant reminder. Mine. Claimed. Bound.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, voice low, rough.
I turned to him, my dark eyes locking onto his golden ones. “I want to.”
“It’s not just a celebration,” he said. “It’s a test. A claiming. The unmated females will challenge. The elders will watch. The pack will judge.”
“Let them,” I said, stepping into his space. “I’m not here to prove anything. I’m here because I choose you. Not because of the bond. Not because of magic. Because of love.”
His breath caught.
And for the first time, I saw it—the crack in his control. Not just as Alpha. As a man. A man who loved me so fiercely it terrified him.
He didn’t speak.
Just pulled me closer, his forehead pressing to mine. “Then let them see it.”
—
The drums began.
Deep. Rhythmic. Primal.
The pack parted as the unmated females stepped forward—ten of them, dressed in ceremonial leathers, their hair braided with silver thread, their scents sharp with challenge. They moved in a slow, deliberate circle around the central fire, their eyes locked on Kaelen, on me, on the space between us.
This was the Claiming Dance.
An ancient ritual. A test.
The Alpha was to choose. To claim. To bind.
And if he refused?
The pack would see it as weakness.
And I—
I’d see it as rejection.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said, my voice tight. “You’ve already claimed me. In the Blood Cells. In the audience chamber. In the baths—”
“They don’t know that,” he said. “And right now, they don’t care. This isn’t about us. It’s about the pack. About loyalty. About strength.”
“And if I walk away?” I asked.
“Then they’ll think you’re afraid,” he said. “And fear is the one thing this pack won’t tolerate.”
I didn’t argue. Just stepped back, my chin high, my spine straight. “Then do it. But don’t pretend it means nothing.”
His chest tightened.
Because it meant everything.
The drums grew louder, faster. The circle tightened. The females moved closer, their scents wrapping around him—jasmine, pine, blood-orange—thick, intoxicating. Their eyes burned with challenge. With hunger. With the promise of what he could have.
And then—
He stepped forward.
The crowd fell silent.
The fire crackled.
And he began the dance.
Not as a man.
Not as an Alpha.
As a predator.
His movements were slow at first—deliberate, controlled. A step forward. A turn. A low growl in his chest. His eyes scanned the circle, not with desire, but with assessment. With dominance. He was not choosing. He was testing.
And then—
He shifted.
Not into full wolf. Not yet.
Just enough to let the beast rise—golden eyes blazing, fangs bared, claws extending. The air around him crackled. The females stepped back, their breaths shallow, their scents spiking with fear.
Good.
Fear was control.
Fear was power.
But then—
One of them stepped forward.
A young wolf, her hair black as night, her eyes fierce. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just dropped to her knees and offered her neck.
A challenge.
A plea.
And the pack held its breath.
Because if he accepted—
I would leave.
And if I refused—
They would see him as weak.
He stepped toward her, his claws gliding over her throat, his fangs inches from her pulse. She trembled—not from fear, but from need. From desire. From the hope that he would choose her. That he would make her mine.
And for a heartbeat—
I almost believed it.
Because the world blurred. The fire dimmed. The pack vanished.
And all I saw was him—his fangs at another woman’s throat, his body poised to claim, to bind, to take.
My chest tightened.
My breath caught.
And then—
He stepped back.
The wolf gasped, her eyes wide with shock.
The crowd murmured.
And then—
He turned.
Not to the fire.
Not to the pack.
To me.
He crossed the courtyard in three strides, the bond humming between us, hot, heavy, alive. The pack watched, silent, still. I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him, my chest rising and falling fast, my fingers clenched at my sides.
And then—
He dropped to one knee.
The gasp that tore through the courtyard was louder than the fire. The wolves stepped back, their eyes wide, their breaths shallow. I froze, my hand flying to my mouth.
Because this—
This was not part of the ritual.
This was not tradition.
This was surrender.
“You said not to pretend it meant nothing,” he said, his voice rough, raw. “So I won’t.”
He reached for my hand, pulling it to his lips. My fingers trembled. My scent—storm and iron—wrapped around him, thick, intoxicating.
“I don’t want another,” he said. “I don’t want tradition. I don’t want power.” He pressed his forehead to my knuckles. “I want you. Not because of the bond. Not because of the Contract. Not because of magic.”
I looked up at him, my dark eyes searching his golden ones. “Then why?”
“Because you’re the only one who’s ever looked at me and seen the man, not the Alpha,” he said, his voice breaking. “The only one who’s ever made me feel like I’m worth saving. The only one who’s ever made me want to be better.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Not from pain.
From the unbearable weight of being seen.
“So if you’ll have me,” he said, “I’m yours. Not as your Alpha. Not as your jailer. As your partner. As your equal. As your mate.”
And then—
He bit me.
Not hard.
Not deep.
Just enough.
A gentle nip at the base of my thumb, where my pulse hammered. Blood welled, hot and rich. The bond screamed, a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper.
And the pack—
They roared.
Not in anger.
Not in protest.
In triumph.
The unmated females stepped back, their heads bowed, their scents fading. The elders nodded, their eyes sharp with approval. The young wolves howled, their voices rising into the night.
And I—
I didn’t speak.
Just dropped to my knees in front of him, my hands framing his face, my dark eyes searching his.
“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered. “You don’t have to choose me in front of them. You could’ve—”
“I didn’t choose you for them,” he said, his voice rough. “I chose you for me. Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t need you. Tired of pretending I don’t want you. Tired of pretending I don’t love you.”
My breath caught.
And then—
I kissed him.
Not soft. Not gentle.
Violent.
My hands fisted in his hair, yanking my head down. My mouth crashed onto his, hot, demanding, possessive. A growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating through my bones. The bond pulsed—hot, heavy, alive—a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper.
And the world—
It stopped.
The fire died. The drums fell silent. The pack vanished.
There was only him.
His taste. His scent. His body pressed into mine.
And then—
A sound.
Not from the crowd.
Not from the fire.
From the shadows.
Low. Familiar.
Mira.
She stepped into the firelight, dressed in a gown of deep crimson, her hair cascading over one shoulder, her smile sweet. But her eyes—cold as winter—locked onto me.
And in her hand—
A vial.
Dark liquid swirled inside, pulsing with something foul.
“How… romantic,” she said, her voice melodic. “The Alpha, on his knees. The challenger, in his arms. How poetic.”
I pulled back, my lips swollen, my chest rising and falling fast. “You don’t belong here.”
“Oh, but I do,” Mira said, stepping closer. “Because I have something you need.” She held up the vial. “This is fae venom. Stronger than wolfbane. Stronger than silver. One drop, and the bond between you shatters. One sip, and the claiming is undone.”
Kaelen stood, pulling me behind him. “You’re lying. That mark isn’t mine. I’ve never touched you.”
“And yet,” she said, stepping closer, “my scent is on your skin. Your fangs left this mark. You were in my bed just last night.”
“Lies,” I said, stepping in front of Kaelen. “Glamour. You’ve been trying to steal him since the moment we arrived. You can’t have him, so you forge a bond that doesn’t exist?”
“Prove it’s fake,” Mira said, smiling. “Go ahead. Use your truth magic. But be careful—what if the pack sees something else? What if they see you in his bed? What if they see the bond isn’t just political, but personal?”
My blood turned to ice.
She wasn’t just attacking Kaelen.
She was attacking us.
And she was winning.
“You don’t get to do this,” I said, stepping forward. “You don’t get to poison the truth. You don’t get to twist love into something ugly.”
“And yet,” Mira said, “here we are.”
And then—
She raised the vial.
“One drop,” she said. “And the bond is broken. One sip, and you’re free.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I lunged.
Not for the vial.
For her.
My hand closed around Mira’s wrist, twisting hard. The vial shattered, dark liquid splashing onto the stone, sizzling like acid.
And then—
I slammed her into the ground.
“You don’t get to touch him,” I hissed, my voice low, dangerous. “You don’t get to lie about him. You don’t get to use him.”
Mira gasped, her eyes wide with shock.
And then—
She smiled.
“You’re weak,” she said. “You let love make you weak. And that’s why you’ll lose.”
I didn’t answer.
Just stood, pulling Kaelen with me.
And as we walked away, the pack roaring behind us, the bond humming between us—
I knew.
The real battle wasn’t against Cassian.
It wasn’t against the Council.
It wasn’t even against Mira.
It was against this.
Against the truth.
Against the desire.
Against the love I was trying so hard to deny.
And I wasn’t sure I could win.
Because the worst part?
I didn’t want to.