The mating ceremony is perfect—mockingly so. I’m wedged in the back between cousins who pretend I’m air, watching white silk I should’ve walked three days ago.
Gwendolyn glides in my dress, Elijah gleams at the altar and never once looks my way. The officiant preaches destiny and the Moon Goddess and I almost want to laugh, or run.
Instead I stand dutiful while everything burns.
“You may kiss your mate,” Elder Devora says at last.
Before their lips meet, Gwendolyn’s eyes find me. Smiling like a blade and making sure I see the tenderness he never spared me as the crowd erupts. I don’t look away.
My parents beam from the front row, already discussing pack alliances and elevated status with the guests around them. Father's voice carries, proud and booming. Mother touches her throat, preening under the attention.
No one mentions my name. I've become invisible, a problem already solved, a daughter already forgotten.
The reception sprawls across the lawn, tables draped in cream and gold, music drifting through the garden. I slip away from the crowd as soon as possible, following stone paths until I find a shadowed corner near the fountain.
The sound of rushing water almost drowns out the celebration, but not quite.
I sink onto the fountain's edge, my head full of heavy thoughts.
I have mates. Two of them, that’s insane!
My wedding is off, and I have two mates, and I can’t even be with them, because I’m being sent off to the king’s harem.
It feels like I’m a shit heroine of a shit story. I know life isn’t fair, but I didn't expect it to be so cruel and ridiculous.
I remember Nathan’s intense eyes, Luca’s flirty smile and feel hot all over. Even though it’s going to end tomorrow.
"You look like you're at a funeral instead of a wedding."
I know that voice. My pulse jumps before I can control it, and when I turn, there he is—Ryder. Devastatingly handsome in formal black attire that makes his silver-grey eyes seem to glow in the fading light.
"Maybe I am," I say quietly. "Mourning what could have been."
He moves closer, hands in his pockets, expression gentle. "May I sit?"
I gesture to the space beside me, and he settles on the fountain's edge. His presence makes the vice around my chest loosen slightly, like I can finally breathe properly again.
"I heard about the arrangement," he says carefully. "About where you're being sent."
"Everyone's heard." Bitterness colors my words. "It's probably the most interesting gossip this pack has had in years. The failed bride shipped off to warm the king's bed."
"Is that what you think the harem is?"
I laugh, sharp and humorless. "Isn't it? I've heard the rumors. The ruthless Lycan King who keeps a harem of she-wolves for his pleasure. Who discards them when he's bored. Who—"
"Rumors are often exaggerated," he interrupts, his tone carefully neutral. "Sometimes they miss the truth entirely."
Something in his voice makes me look at him more closely. "You sound like you know the situation firsthand."
"I do." He turns to face me fully, and I'm struck again by how familiar he feels.
Like my wolf recognizes something in him that my mind can't quite grasp.
"It's more of tradition—a twisted one, established generations ago to maintain alliances between the High Packs and the monarchy. The king is... bound by rules older than any of us."
"What rules?"
His jaw tightens. "He cannot marry. Cannot take a mate. Not until…" He stops, shakes his head. "The point is, the women in his harem are treated with respect. Protected. Some become advisors, healers, teachers. They're not just... objects."
"How do you know so much about this? About him?" I ask, studying his face.
“I prefer reading history books,” he offers me a soft smile. “And I don’t like when the truth gets distorted.”
“It seems more like you’re trying to make him seem better than he is.”
He's quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. When he speaks, his voice drops lower, more intimate. "Because everyone deserves someone who sees past the rumors to who they really are."
His hand reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and the touch sends electricity racing through me.
"Like you deserve someone who sees past the dutiful daughter to the fierce, beautiful woman underneath."
My breath catches. "You don't know me."
"Don't I?"
His thumb traces my cheekbone, and I find myself leaning into the touch despite everything.
"I know you're kind enough to accept gifts from strangers and brave enough to run into the night alone when your heart breaks. I know you're sitting here at your sister's wedding, holding yourself together with pure will while your entire world crumbles."
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back. "You make me sound stronger than I am…"
"You make yourself sound weaker than you are." His other hand cups my face now, tilting my head up. "Do you have any idea how extraordinary you are, Coralina?"
The way he says my name, like it's something precious, makes my heart stutter.
"I'm about to become one woman among many in a king's harem. How is that extraordinary?"
"Because you feel extraordinary to me," he says fiercely. "I don’t know why and how, but since the moment I met you… " I lick my lips nervously. His gaze followed the motion. “I knew you were something special.”
Then he kisses me.
It's nothing like Luca's passionate claim at the festival grounds. This is slow-burning heat, building gradually until I'm gasping, my fingers clutching his jacket as he pulls me closer.
He kisses like he's drowning and I'm air, like he's memorizing the taste of me, like this moment matters more than anything else in the world.
His tongue slides against mine, coaxing rather than demanding, and I open for him with a soft moan. His hand slides from my face down my neck, my collarbone, my waist, leaving trails of fire in its wake.
When his fingers brush the hem of my dress, I should stop him. Should remember where we are, who might see. But when his hand slides up my thigh beneath the fabric, I open my legs instead.
Desperate for anything that makes me feel alive instead of discarded.
His fingers trace higher, higher, and I'm burning. My hips shifting toward his touch, my breath coming in short gasps against his mouth.
"Please…" I whisper, not even sure what I'm asking for.
He groans low in his throat, his forehead resting against mine.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he breathes. "What you've done to me since the moment I saw you."
His fingers brush against my core through the thin fabric of my underwear, and I cry out softly. He swallows the sound with another deep kiss, his touch gentle but deliberate, building that fire inside me until I'm trembling.
"I want—" I start, but voices drift too close, laughter and footsteps on the stone path.
He pulls back immediately, both of us breathing hard. His silver-grey eyes are dark with desire, his hair mussed from my fingers.
Ryder looks wrecked, and some primal part of me glorifies in being the cause.
He stands, helps me to my feet, straightens my dress with gentle hands. Then he leans down, pressing a kiss to my temple that feels like a promise.
"Don’t be afraid," he whispers against my skin. "Of the harem. It’s going to be okay. I promise."
Then he's gone, melting into the shadows between the hedges, leaving me alone with swollen lips, a racing heart, and questions I can't begin to answer.