I crouched behind the obsidian pillar, my breath shallow, my pulse a silent drum against my ribs. The temple stretched before me—black stone carved with ancient runes, the air thick with the scent of burning sage and old blood. Moonlight bled through the high, arched windows, casting long, skeletal shadows across the floor. At the center, the ritual fire still smoldered, embers pulsing like a dying heart.
And there he stood.
Kaelen Dain.
Alpha of the Lunar Pack. Son of the monster who executed my mother.
His back was to me, broad and bare, muscles shifting beneath skin slick with ash and sweat. A jagged scar ran from his left shoulder to his spine—earned in battle, they said. I hoped it hurt every time he moved. His dark hair was tied back, revealing the sharp lines of his jaw, the proud cut of his neck. The mate-mark on his throat—a coiled silver wolf—gleamed under the moon.
I hated that mark.
It meant he was whole. Claimed. Worthy.
And my mother had died for refusing to give it to him.
My fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger strapped to my thigh. Cold steel. Familiar weight. I’d trained with it since I was twelve, the year I learned what they’d done to her. The year I stopped being Ruby Vale and became something sharper. Something hungrier.
I wasn’t here to mourn.
I was here to burn.
The Feral Contract—the cursed scroll that bound my bloodline to his—was hidden beneath the central dais, sealed in a silver casket bound with iron chains. One flame. One spell. One moment of chaos, and it would be ash.
And the Dain legacy would crumble with it.
I moved like smoke, silent and low, keeping to the shadows. My boots barely whispered against the stone. My witch magic hummed beneath my skin, a quiet thrum I kept leashed. I wasn’t here to fight. I was here to destroy. And if I had to kill him to do it—well, that was just a bonus.
The dais loomed ahead. Ten steps. Five. Two.
I reached for the hidden latch beneath the altar’s edge—
“Stop.”
The voice was low. Commanding. A blade drawn across silence.
I froze.
Slowly, I turned.
Kaelen stood ten feet away, his golden eyes locked on mine. Not glowing. Not yet. But the wolf was close. I could smell it on him—musky, wild, edged with dominance. He hadn’t shifted. But he didn’t need to. His presence alone was a threat, a wall of power pressing against my skin.
“You don’t belong here,” he said.
I didn’t flinch. “Neither do you. This temple was built by my ancestors.”
“And now it serves the Lunar Court.” His gaze dropped to my hands. “You’re touching sacred ground. Remove yourself. Now.”
I smirked. “Or what? You’ll call your guards? Your father already tried that with my mother. Didn’t end well for her, did it?”
His nostrils flared. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You’re brave. Or stupid. Which is it?”
“Neither. I’m patient.” I let my hand drift to my dagger. “And I’ve waited twelve years for this.”
He took a step forward. Then another. The air thickened, charged with the weight of his power. Alphas didn’t just command packs—they commanded magic. The very air bent to their will. I felt it now, a pressure against my chest, my throat. It wanted me to kneel.
I didn’t.
“You’re half-breed,” he said, voice colder now. “A mongrel with a witch’s tricks. You think you can challenge me in my own temple?”
“I’m not here to challenge you.” I smiled, slow and sharp. “I’m here to erase you.”
His eyes flashed gold.
And then the guards came.
Three of them—Betas, from the scent of them—rushed in from the side corridors, claws out, fangs bared. I didn’t wait. I lunged for the dais, fingers finding the latch—
Click.
The floor beneath me split open.
Not a trap.
A reaction.
The moment my fingers touched the mechanism, the ancient sigil beneath the temple floor ignited—a web of silver light spreading from the center, pulsing like a heartbeat. The air crackled. The fire roared to life. And pain—white-hot, searing—exploded in my palm.
I screamed.
My hand was on fire.
I looked down.
A mark—coiled silver wolf, identical to the one on Kaelen’s throat—was burning into my skin.
And across the temple, Kaelen gasped.
He clutched his neck. His eyes wide. His breath ragged.
“No,” he whispered.
Then louder: “No!”
The guards froze. The fire flared. The runes on the walls began to glow, chanting in the Old Tongue—words I didn’t know, but my blood did. My veins burned. My magic surged, unbidden, breaking free in a wave of heat and flame.
The Feral Contract.
It wasn’t destroyed.
It had awakened.
And it had chosen me.
I stumbled back, clutching my hand. The mark throbbed, pulsing with a life of its own. I could feel it—not just on my skin, but in my bones, my blood, my breath. It was tied to him. To his heartbeat. To his breath. To his goddamn soul.
“What did you do?” Kaelen snarled, striding toward me. “What magic is this?”
“I didn’t do anything!” I snapped, backing away. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!”
“Liar.” He grabbed my wrist, yanking my hand up. His fingers were hot, his grip unbreakable. He stared at the mark, his face unreadable. “This is the bond. The Feral Contract. It’s bound us.”
“It’s a mistake,” I said, my voice shaking. “Break it.”
He laughed—cold, bitter. “You think I can break centuries of magic with a snap of my fingers? This bond doesn’t care about your hatred. It doesn’t care about your revenge. It only cares about survival.”
“Then unbind us. Now.”
“I can’t.” His eyes met mine. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
The guards stepped forward. One of them—a broad-shouldered Beta with a scar across his cheek—spoke. “Alpha, the Council must be told. The contract has chosen a mate. A half-breed, but still—”
“I know what she is,” Kaelen snapped.
“The prophecy—”
“I don’t give a damn about prophecy.” He turned to me, his voice low, dangerous. “You’re marked. Bound. From this moment, you are mine until the bond is fulfilled.”
“I’d rather die.”
“Then die.” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “But not before you serve your purpose.”
I yanked my hand free, but the mark burned hotter, a chain of fire linking us. I could feel him—his anger, his hunger, the dark pull of his power. It tugged at me, deep in my gut, low in my belly. I hated it. I hated him.
And yet—
My body trembled.
Not from fear.
From something worse.
“Take her to the Council chamber,” Kaelen ordered. “She’ll be presented as my betrothed.”
“No!” I lunged, slashing with my dagger.
He caught my wrist mid-swing, twisted it until the blade clattered to the floor. His other hand clamped around my throat—not enough to choke, but enough to remind me who was in control.
“You don’t get to say no,” he said, his voice a growl. “The contract does.”
His eyes burned gold.
And for the first time, I was afraid.
Not of death.
But of what this bond would make me feel.
The guards dragged me through the temple halls, their grip tight on my arms. I didn’t fight. Not yet. My mind raced, calculating, searching for a way out. The mark on my palm throbbed with every beat of my heart, a constant reminder of what had been done to me.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
The Feral Contract was supposed to be broken, not activated.
And now I was bound to the man who’d destroyed my family.
As we approached the Council chamber, the heavy oak doors swung open. Torches flared. The air smelled of incense and iron. The Supernatural Council sat in judgment—Fae Lords in silver masks, Vampire Elders with eyes like polished onyx, Witch Matrons with sigils carved into their skin.
And at the center, Kaelen.
He stood before the High Seat, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable. When he saw me, his jaw tightened.
“Present the claim,” the High Fae Lord intoned.
Kaelen stepped forward, holding up his hand. The mate-mark glowed faintly on his neck. “The Feral Contract has awakened. It has chosen a mate.”
He turned to me. “Ruby Vale. Half-werewolf. Half-witch. Blood of the Vale line. She bears the mark. She is bound to me by ancient oath.”
Gasps rippled through the chamber.
“The contract demands a bonded heir,” the High Lord said. “Or war between the packs. Is this female willing?”
“She has no choice,” Kaelen said. “The magic has spoken.”
“Then it is settled.” The gavel came down. “Ruby Vale is hereby declared betrothed to Kaelen Dain, Alpha of the Lunar Pack. The bond shall be honored. The contract upheld.”
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to burn the room down.
But I stayed silent.
Because revenge wasn’t about rage.
It was about patience.
And I had twelve years of it.
They led me away, not to a cell, but to a chamber in the Alpha’s wing. Rich tapestries. A four-poster bed. A mirror framed in black iron.
And on the bed, a gown.
Deep red. Slit to the hip. Laced with silver thread.
A betrothal gown.
I picked it up, my fingers trembling. This wasn’t just a dress.
It was a weapon.
And I would wear it like armor.
That night, I dreamed of him.
Not as the monster.
But as a man.
His hands on my waist. His mouth on my neck. His fangs breaking skin.
I woke drenched in sweat.
And between my thighs—wet.
I hated him.
I would destroy him.
But as I touched the mark on my palm, I whispered the truth I couldn’t escape:
“I came here to break this curse.”
My voice cracked.
“Not become part of it.”
And somewhere, deep in the castle, Kaelen Dain stirred in his sleep.
And dreamed of me too.
Feral Contract
The first time Ruby sees Kaelen Dain, he’s standing over a ritual fire, his bare chest slick with ash and blood, eyes glowing gold as he speaks the Old Tongue. She’s hidden in the shadows, a dagger at her thigh, ready to slit his throat—until the ancient sigil beneath the temple floor ignites, searing her palm with the same mark that brands his neck. The Feral Contract has awakened. Centuries ago, her ancestor swore fealty to the Dain bloodline in exchange for survival. Now, the magic demands reclamation: a bonded heir, or war between the packs.
Ruby doesn’t believe in fate. She believes in revenge.
But the contract doesn’t care.
Within days, she’s declared his betrothed, paraded before the Lunar Court in a gown slit to the hip, whispers chasing her: Half-breed. Servant. Whore. Kaelen watches her with cold disdain—until their hands touch during a moonbinding rite, and the air crackles with heat so thick it steals her breath. That night, she dreams of his mouth on her throat, his fangs breaking skin, and wakes trembling, her thighs slick with need.
She came to destroy him. But when a rival claims he spent the night in her bed, wearing his bite mark like a trophy, Ruby feels a surge of jealousy so violent it terrifies her. The contract isn’t just magic. It’s a trap—one that ties their bodies, their power, and their souls together. And if they don’t play their parts, the entire supernatural world will bleed.
But if they do… she might lose her mission. And her heart.