Aria
The moment the mark appeared on my neck, everything changed—and yet, everything stayed the same.
Yes, Matthew claimed me. His teeth sank into my skin. His scent now lingered over mine. The bond had locked itself so tightly into my soul I could barely think without feeling him.
But there were no congratulations. No flowers. No Luna coronation. Only silence. And whispers.
“She’ll ruin the bloodline.”
“He had no choice.”
“She seduced him—used the bond to trap him.”
“A Luna should be strong, not… soft.”
I heard it all. I felt it in every stare. Every side glance. Every smirk.
Alpha Ryle was furious. His voice had roared through the Pack House like thunder that same night. “You’ve weakened us,” he shouted behind closed doors, though nothing stayed private when the walls had ears. “You’ve tied yourself to a mistake.”
But the bond was sealed. Not even he could undo it. And Matthew? He didn’t say much. He gave me a command, nothing more: “You’ll move into the Luna suite tomorrow. You’re mine now.”
Mine. Like property. Like an obligation. Not once had he said I was welcome.
So the next morning, I left the servant’s quarters and stepped into the grand suite at the top of the east wing. It smelled like lavender and leather. The bed was massive, dressed in deep blue sheets with a carved moon above the headboard.
It was beautiful. And it felt nothing like home.
The maids avoided eye contact as they handed me folded clothes. The guards looked straight ahead when they opened the doors. Even the kitchen staff paused their chopping when I entered, waiting for me to leave before they resumed.
I didn’t belong here. And everyone knew it. Still, I showed up to the packed dinner. Matthew had ordered it—said I should “show face” as Luna.
So I wore the navy-blue dress that clung to my curves more than I liked, pulled my hair back tight, and stepped into the dining hall with my head held high, even though my insides shook.
The hall fell quiet the moment I entered. Eyes turned. Forks stopped midair.
I walked to Luna's seat beside Matthew’s—empty and waiting—and sat down. My palms were sweaty against the velvet.
Calla sat across from me. Of course she did. She wore crimson, bold and backless, her lips curled in a vicious smile.
“I thought you’d be eating in the kitchen,” she said sweetly. “But I guess even cows like to sit at the table sometimes.”
I said nothing. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. But then she leaned forward and, with a flick of her wrist, spilled her wine across my lap.
“Oh no,” she purred, hand pressed to her mouth. “Oops. Though cows didn’t belong at the table.”
A few low chuckles rippled through the hall. The sting of humiliation burned up my spine. I could feel everyone’s eyes on the red stain soaking through the fabric at my thighs.
But before I could respond—before I could even move—a sound cracked through the air like lightning.
SLAM.
Matthew’s palm hit the table so hard every glass jumped. Silence fell like a hammer. He stood slowly, eyes locked on Calla, golden-brown irises blazing with fury.
“Speak to my mate again,” he said, voice like ice breaking, “and I’ll tear your tongue out.”
No one moved. Calla’s smile dropped.
Matthew didn’t even glance at me. He sat back down, picking up his knife with eerie calm, and continued cutting his meat like nothing had happened.
The room slowly returned to motion—but the atmosphere had shifted. I sat frozen in my chair, wet fabric clinging to me, heart racing.
He had defended me. But not because he loved me. Because I was his. His property. His bond. Not his choice. And that was almost worse.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I changed out of the stained dress, paced the length of the Luna suite, stared at the mark on my neck in the mirror. It was healing already, pulsing with the truth of a bond I didn’t understand anymore.
A mate who didn’t want me. A pack that hated me. A room too beautiful to cry in—but I did anyway. A soft knock tapped at the glass behind the curtains.
I froze.
Cautiously, I moved to the window, pulled the curtain aside—
Elias.
He stood on the narrow ledge, one hand braced against the wall, eyes catching the moonlight like silver.
I opened the window slowly. “What are you doing?”
He stepped inside, silent and smooth. His eyes searched mine. “I needed to see you.”
“I’m not allowed visitors,” I whispered.
“I don’t follow rules I don’t believe in,” he said simply.
I hugged my arms. “Everyone knows I’ve been claimed.”
“I know.”
I looked away.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I said. “The mark’s there. He made it clear—it’s done.”
Elias stepped closer. “You don’t look claimed, Aria.”
I frowned. “What does that even mean?”
He stopped just in front of me. His voice softened, but there was something sharp behind it. “You look caged.”
My breath caught. “I’m not,” I lied.
“You are.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy and full of things neither of us dared say.
I looked up at him. “Why are you really here?”
He took a slow breath. “Because no matter what he did—no matter what that mark says—I still see you.”
My throat tightened. “Elias…”
He reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His hand lingered, fingers trailing lightly down my cheek.
“You deserve to feel chosen,” he murmured.
My heart thundered in my chest. “But I’m not.”
He leaned in, so close I could feel his breath. “Then let me remind you what it’s like.”
And then he kissed me.