[Daphne’s POV]
The feast celebrating Xander's ascension stretches long into the night—music, drinking, pack members swearing loyalty with varying degrees of sincerity. I play my part, smile when appropriate, accept congratulations on my "freedom" from Hector's false bond.
But my attention keeps drifting to Xander across the hall, commanding and powerful in his new role, and I feel something pulling tight in my chest.
The bond. Trying to complete. Trying to become what it should have been all along.
I slip away when the celebration reaches its peak chaos, needing air and silence. The gardens are cool and quiet, the moon nearly full overhead. I breathe deeply, letting the night settle my racing thoughts.
"You didn't have to do that." Xander's voice comes from behind me, soft in the darkness. "Vouch for me in front of everyone. Risk your reputation defending me."
I turn to face him. He's backlit by the pack house lights, his new Alpha power radiating from him like heat, making him seem larger than life. But his expression is uncertain. Vulnerable in a way he rarely allows.
"Yes, I did." I move closer, closing the distance between us. "You've been fighting for me for years. Even when I didn't see it, didn't understand it. When I thought you hated me, you were protecting me in the only way you could. It's time I fought for you."
His hands come up to frame my face, rough calluses gentle against my skin despite their strength. "The bond between us—it's trying to complete. You feel it?"
I nod, my breath catching. "Like something essential that's been waiting."
"We could let it happen naturally. Wait for your heat cycle, do this the traditional way—"
"No." The word comes out fierce. "I need to do this right. Not drugged. Not forced. Not because of heat or politics or desperation or anything except..." I meet his eyes, letting him see everything I feel. "Except choice."
"Then how?" His voice is rough, hopeful. "What do you need?"
"I need to choose you." The words feel monumental, weighted with everything we've been through. "I choose you, Xander. Not because of pack law or mate bonds or destiny written in the stars. Because you're you—stubborn and fierce and honest even when it hurts. Because you see me, really see me, not what I represent or what I could give you. I want this. I want you."
His kiss is soft at first, reverent—so different from the desperate hunger we've shared before. Like he's savoring this moment, this choice, this gift I'm offering freely. When he pulls back, his eyes are bright with emotion I've never seen him show.
"Marry me," he says. "Right now. Tonight. Before the bond completes, I want you to be my mate by choice, not magic."
My heart stutters. "A ceremony? Now?"
"A simple one. Just us, the King, a few witnesses. Nothing elaborate—just real. Legal. Undeniable." His hands tighten on my face. "I want everyone to know you chose me. That this bond is sacred because we made it so."
"Yes." The answer comes without hesitation. "Yes."
The ceremony happens in the pack's sacred grove an hour later. My father officiates, his voice carrying ancient words of bonding. Xander wears simple Alpha black. I'm still in my royal blue gown, but someone—the little omega girl I shared my meal with not too long ago, I think—weaves white flowers into my hair.
Father didn’t want to agree, I’ve seen it in his eyes. But our enthusiasm, hard-earned freedom convinced him otherwise. I get to be with Xander for a bit more, before I need to make a decision.
But I don’t want to do it now.
There are perhaps twenty witnesses. Connor stands as Xander's second, his expression solemn. The pack's healer witnesses for me, tears streaming down her face.
"Do you, Daphne Mooncrest, Crown Princess and Lycan heir, take this Alpha as your chosen mate?" my father asks.
"I do." My voice doesn't shake. "I choose him."
"Do you, Xander Silvermoon, Alpha of Crescent Moon, take this Princess as your chosen mate?"
"I do." Xander's eyes never leave mine. "I choose her."
"Then by the power vested in me by the Crown and the Moon herself, I declare you bonded. What you choose freely, let no one tear asunder."
The moment the words are spoken, I feel it—the bond settling into place. Not forced. Not artificial. But growing naturally, like roots finding earth, like a river finding its path. It thrums between us, golden and warm and right.
Xander kisses me, and the witnesses cheer.
His rooms—the Alpha's rooms now—are private and quiet after the celebration. He carries me over the threshold despite my laughing protests, his strength effortless.
"Tradition," he murmurs against my ear. "Humor me."
He sets me down carefully, and suddenly we're alone. Really alone. Mated. Bonded. Free.
"Nervous?" he asks softly.
"No." And I'm not. With Hector, everything felt coerced, orchestrated. This feels like coming home. "Are you?"
"Terrified." His honesty makes me smile. "I want this to be perfect for you. Want to erase every moment he—"
I kiss him, cutting off the words. "Then touch me like you mean it. Like I'm yours because I chose to be, not because someone forced it."
Something fierce ignites in his eyes. He kisses me hard, possessive, his hands pulling me against him. I respond with equal hunger, tugging at his shirt, needing skin against skin, needing proof this is real.
We shed clothes between kisses, between whispered words and breathless laughter when buttons refuse to cooperate. When we finally fall onto his bed—our bed—we're both trembling with want.
"You're sure?" he asks one more time, his body poised above mine.
"I'm sure." I pull him down. "I'm yours, Xander. By choice. Always."
Xander is unusually passionate and attentive, reverent. He worships every inch of exposed skin, his mouth trailing heat across my throat, my breasts, lower. When I arch against him, gasping his name, his answering growl vibrates through my entire body.
He enters me slowly, carefully, his eyes locked on mine. Watching for any sign of discomfort. Finding only desire reflected back.
"Move," I demand, my legs wrapping around his waist. "Stop treating me like I'll break."
His restraint shatters. He drives into me with desperate intensity, and I meet him thrust for thrust, nails raking down his back. The bond flares between us—pleasure amplified, shared, feeding back and forth until I can't tell where I end and he begins.
When we reach the peak together, the bond completes with a flash of light that illuminates the entire room. I feel his wolf recognize mine, feel the permanent connection snap into place—not chains this time, but wings.
We collapse together, sweat-slicked and breathing hard. He rolls us so I'm draped across his chest, his arms secure around me.
"I love you," he murmurs into my hair. "I love you."
"I love you too." The words feel natural, true. "I think I have for a while."
We drift in peaceful silence, the bond humming contentedly between us. But as the night deepens and Xander's breathing evens into sleep, reality creeps back.
I trace patterns on his chest, my mind already working through logistics, politics, the future waiting beyond this perfect moment.
"I have to go to court," I whisper into the darkness.
He doesn't respond. Maybe he's asleep. Maybe he's pretending to be.
Either way, the words hang in the air between us—truth we both know but neither wants to face yet.
I'm the Crown Princess. The kingdom's only heir. My place is at court, learning to rule, preparing to be Queen.
But my heart is here. With him. With the pack that's finally accepted me. With the mate I chose freely.
Eventually, I'll have to choose between them.
But not tonight. Tonight, I let myself believe I can have both.