The night after we forgave each other on the cliffs, the moon rose full and silver over the Northern Stronghold, its light spilling across the stone like liquid fire. It wasn’t just any moon. It was the Mating Moon—the one night every decade when the veil between magic and instinct thinned, when bonds were tested, claimed, or broken. The air hummed with it—thick, primal, electric. Wolves howled from the training grounds, their voices rising in a chorus of hunger and loyalty. The runes on the walls pulsed in time with the rhythm, blue and gold now, not silver and black. The Contract was gone. The lie was shattered. But the bond—
It wasn’t just healed.
It was hungry.
Kaelen and I stood in his chambers, the fire crackling low in the hearth, the furs piled high on the stone bed. We hadn’t spoken since the cliffs. No words were needed. The silence between us wasn’t empty—it was full. Of truth. Of guilt faced. Of forgiveness given. Of love, raw and unshakable. His hand was in mine, his grip warm, steady, possessive. The mark on my neck throbbed, not with pain, but with promise. The one on my shoulder—the real one, the one from our first night—pulsed in time with my heartbeat, a brand that no longer felt like a claim, but a vow.
“You don’t have to stay,” he said, his voice low, rough. “Not tonight. Not with the moon like this. I can send you to another wing. Keep you safe.”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t let go. “And miss the show? The legendary Mating Moon? The one night when even the strongest Alphas lose control?” I stepped into his space, my dark eyes locking onto his golden ones. “You really think I’d run from you now?”
His breath caught.
Because he knew I wouldn’t.
And he knew I should.
“You don’t understand,” he said, stepping back, his jaw tight. “This isn’t just bond-heat. It’s not just desire. It’s instinct. It’s the moon calling the wolf. And when it does—”
“You lose control?” I finished, stepping closer. “You become something feral? Something dangerous?” I reached up, my fingers brushing his jaw. “Then let me see it. Let me see the wolf. Not the Alpha. Not the man. The beast. The one who wants me so badly it terrifies him.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his arms, crushing me to his chest, his face buried in my hair. I could feel his heartbeat—wild, uneven, too fast. The bond between us hummed, not with magic, not with memory, but with something deeper. Something primal.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice rough.
“Then don’t,” I said, pulling back just enough to look at him. “But don’t pretend you don’t want me. Don’t pretend you’re not burning for me. I can feel it. The way your pulse jumps when I touch you. The way your eyes darken when I say your name. The way your cock gets hard when I walk into the room.” I stepped closer, my body pressing into his. “You don’t have to control it. You just have to let it be.”
His chest tightened.
Because I was right.
And he was tired of fighting.
—
The first howl tore through the night like a blade.
Not from the training grounds.
From the courtyard.
Then another. And another. The pack was shifting, their bones cracking, their fur rippling beneath their skin, their growls low and hungry. The Mating Moon had begun.
Kaelen didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood, his arms still around me, his breath hot on my neck. But I could feel it—the shift. Not in his body. Not yet. But in his soul. The wolf was rising. The beast was waking. And it wanted me.
“They’ll expect it,” he said, his voice a low growl. “The pack. The elders. They’ll expect me to claim you. To mark you. To bind you under the moon.”
“And what do you want?” I asked, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
He didn’t answer.
Just turned, his golden eyes blazing, and began to undress.
Slow.
Deliberate.
His fingers worked the silver clasps of his coat, letting it fall to the floor. Then the leathers—each strap undone with care, each piece removed like a ritual. His chest was bare now, carved from muscle and scar, his skin glowing in the firelight. His wolf sigil—a mark of leadership, of power—pulsed faintly over his heart.
And then—
He stopped.
Waiting.
For me.
I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling as I reached for the ties of my own leathers. One by one, I undid them, letting the fabric fall. My boots next. Then my shirt. Until I stood before him in nothing but my skin, my breath coming fast, my body aching with need.
And still—
He didn’t touch me.
Just looked.
Like he was memorizing me.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice rough. “Not just your body. Not just your magic. You. The way you fight. The way you speak. The way you look at me like I’m worth saving.”
My breath caught.
Because no one had ever called me beautiful.
Not like this.
Not like it mattered.
“You don’t get to say that,” I whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not,” I said. “I’m sharp. I’m cold. I’m—”
“Mine,” he said, stepping forward, his hand gliding over my hip, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin where thigh met waist. I gasped, my body arching into his touch. “And you’re beautiful. And I’m going to prove it.”
And then—
He shifted.
Not fully.
Just enough.
His bones cracked. His skin rippled. His golden eyes blazed, his fangs bared, his claws extending. The air around him crackled. The bond screamed, a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper—something primal.
And then—
He lifted me.
Not roughly. Not possessively.
With care.
Like I was something precious.
He carried me to the bed, laying me down on the furs, his body following, caging me in with his arms. His eyes never left mine. Golden. Burning. Fierce.
“I’m not going to rush,” he said, voice low, rough. “I’m not going to take. I’m going to worship.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not hard. Not desperate.
Soft. Slow. Aching.
His lips moved against mine, gentle, searching. One hand cupped my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek. The other gripped my wrist, the one that had borne the chain. And the chain—
It pulsed.
Not with magic.
With connection.
I pulled him closer, my arms wrapping around his waist, lifting me slightly. My legs wrapped around his hips, my body pressing into his. The kiss deepened, our tongues meeting, slow and sweet and real.
And then—
He moved.
His lips trailed down my jaw, my neck, the mark he’d left at the base of my throat. His fingers followed, tracing the curve of my spine, the dip of my waist, the swell of my hips. The bond pulsed—hot, heavy, alive—a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper.
“You’re trembling,” he said, voice rough.
“It’s the magic,” I said, my voice breaking.
“No,” he said. “It’s not.”
His hands moved lower, gliding over the curve of my ass, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin where thigh met hip. I gasped, my body arching into his touch.
“Blair,” he growled.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered.
And he didn’t.
His mouth found my breast, his lips closing over my nipple, hot and wet, his tongue swirling in slow circles. I cried out, my fingers tangling in his hair, my hips lifting off the furs. The bond screamed, a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper—something primal.
And then—
He moved lower.
His hands slid up my thighs, spreading them, his breath hot on my core. I tensed—
“Wait—”
“Look at me,” he said, his voice rough.
I did.
Golden eyes. Burning. Fierce. Mine.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m not going to take. I’m going to love you.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not on the mouth.
On my clit.
Slow. Gentle. Aching.
I gasped, my back arching, my fingers clutching the furs. His tongue moved in slow circles, his hands holding my hips, his breath hot and steady. The bond pulsed—hot, heavy, alive—a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper.
And then—
He added a finger.
Sliding inside me, slow, deep, perfect.
I cried out, my body trembling, my magic flaring. The runes on the walls flared blue, the air crackling with power. But I didn’t care. I was too lost. Too full. Too his.
“Kaelen—”
“Come for me,” he growled, his voice muffled against my skin. “Let me feel you. Let me taste you. Let me know you.”
And I did.
The climax tore through me like a storm, sharp and bright and real. My body convulsed, my magic spiraling, the bond screaming as pleasure ripped through every nerve. He didn’t stop. Didn’t pull back. Just held me, his mouth and fingers working me through it, until I collapsed, gasping, trembling, shattered.
And then—
He moved.
Crawling up my body, his cock hard and heavy against my thigh. He looked down at me—eyes golden, chest heaving, lips wet with me.
“Now,” he said, voice rough. “Now I take what’s mine.”
And then—
He entered me.
Slow. Deep. Perfect.
I gasped, my body stretching to take him, my fingers clutching his arms. He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there, buried inside me, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath hot on my lips.
“You feel that?” he whispered. “That’s not the bond. That’s not magic. That’s us.”
I nodded, tears burning my eyes.
Because it was.
It was real.
And then—
He moved.
Slow at first. Deep. Aching. Each thrust sending waves of pleasure through me. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place, his mouth finding mine, our tongues tangling, our breaths mingling. The bond pulsed—hot, heavy, alive—a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper.
And then—
I felt it.
The shift.
Not just in him.
In us.
The magic wasn’t flaring.
It was fusing.
Our bodies. Our souls. Our bond.
And then—
He bit me.
Not on the neck.
Not to claim.
On the shoulder.
Hard. Deep. Ours.
I screamed—
Not from pain.
From completion.
The climax tore through me again, sharper, brighter, deeper. His body tensed, his cock pulsing inside me as he came, his growl vibrating through my bones. The runes on the walls flared, the bond screaming as we shattered together, as we became.
And when it was over—
We didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.
Just lay there, tangled in the furs, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths mingling, the bond humming between us—hot, heavy, alive.
And then—
He pulled me close, his chest to my back, his arms wrapping around me, his cock still inside me, softening but still there.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, his breath hot on my neck.
“And you’re mine,” I said, my voice breaking.
And as the runes on the walls pulsed, the bond humming between us—
I knew.
The Contract was broken.
But our story?
That was just beginning.
—
The next morning, the stronghold was alive—wolves moving through the corridors with a new rhythm, their eyes sharp, their steps sure. Some nodded as we passed. Others bowed. One young enforcer—barely more than a pup—stepped aside, his hand over his heart, a silent salute.
And I—
I didn’t flinch.
Didn’t look away.
Just met his gaze and nodded back.
Because I wasn’t Blair the rogue. Blair the challenger. Blair the destroyer.
I was Blair.
Kaelen’s mate.
Theirs.
“You’re taking it well,” he said, his hand warm on the small of my back as we walked.
“Taking what well?” I asked.
“This,” he said, gesturing to the wolves, to the stronghold, to the weight of what we’d become. “The pack. The bond. Me.”
I stopped, turning to face him. “I didn’t come here to be your mate.”
“No,” he said. “You came to destroy me.”
“And I would have,” I said, stepping into his space. “If you hadn’t been the only one who ever saw me.”
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.
“So what now?” I asked.
“Now,” he said, pulling me closer, “we go to the Council. We present the truth. We break the Contract. And we build something new.”
“Together?” I asked.
“Always,” he said.
And as the wind howled and the stars burned above us—
I knew.
The Contract was broken.
But our bond?
That was just beginning.