The first time Kaelen touched me, I didn't feel chosen.
I felt claimed.
It was beneath the harvest moon—when the entire Thorneblood Pack circled the Stone of Oaths like vultures, watching the ceremony like it was sacred. It wasn't. There was no grace in it. No reverence. Just wolves with gold-ringed eyes waiting to watch an omega burn.
And I did burn.
Not from the bite—not at first. That came later. The burn came from the silence. The sick, stunned silence when Kaelen stepped forward and said my name like it tasted wrong in his mouth.
"Eira Larken. By right of the Alpha's choosing… you are mine."
I didn't speak. I couldn't.
My throat had closed up the moment he said the word mine. Not mate. Not bonded. Just… possession.
I was meant to kneel. Offer my throat. Let the bond settle where it always does—in the soft place between shoulder and neck. But I didn't kneel.
And he didn't wait.
His hand gripped my hair. Not hard, but firm. Practiced. I felt the scrape of his canines before I could scream.
When the pain came, it came hot.
It burned through the mark like fire down my spine, like someone had slit me open and poured the moon straight into my blood. My wolf reared. Snarled. But it was too late.
The bond was sealed.
And the first thought I had wasn't he's mine—
It was get it out.
The celebration afterward was a feast of fangs and wine. I barely remembered it. Only flashes. Wolves throwing back their heads in laughter. Beta Sereth smirking in the corner, eyes glittering like he knew a joke no one else had heard. Talia pressing a cloth to the wound on my neck and whispering, "I swear I'll kill him for this. Just give me a fork.
I tried to laugh. I think I bled instead.
Kaelen's hand stayed on my lower back all night. Not affection. Control. Like a leash.
"You'll learn to like it," he murmured, once, when I tried to pull away.
"The bond. It grows sweeter with submission."
I didn't answer.
But in my head, my wolf howled back:
"You'll learn to choke on it."
-
Three nights passed before I ran.
Three days of the bond pulling at me like a vine I couldn't cut. Three days of wolves nodding and calling me Luna, like I'd asked for this crown of thorns. I hadn't.
Kaelen hadn't even kissed me.
No ceremony. No gentleness. Just a bite and a claim. Like branding a beast.
So I ran barefoot into the pine forest on the fourth night. I didn't shift. I didn't look back. I just ran.
The moon followed me.
I made it to the edge of the forest ridge before my legs gave out. The burn of the mark had faded to a dull throb, but the echo of Kaelen's presence still sat heavy behind my ribs. His thoughts were distant—just enough to feel him, not enough to hear.
Until I felt something else.
Another presence.
Not Kaelen.
Not pack.
Older.
Colder.
Watching.
I blinked into the dark. Pine needles crackled. My wolf bristled inside me. A scent moved through the trees—smoke, earth, the metallic bite of blood. Not fresh. Not old. Worn. Like it had lived there forever.
And then he stepped out of the shadow.
Tall. Bare-chested. A claw scar across his collarbone. Dark hair wet with rain. His eyes weren't gold like Kaelen's. They were storm-grey, pale and rimmed in shadows. A rogue's eyes. A wolf with no allegiance.
But my bond flared. Not from recognition.
From warning.
His voice was deep and quiet, the kind that didn't need to rise to be heard.
"You've got the Thorne mark."
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
He stepped closer. One boot, slow and deliberate, cracking twigs beneath him like necks.
"You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should you," I finally managed. My voice was rough, cracked.
"You're not pack."
A smirk tugged at his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"No. I'm something worse."
He stopped three feet from me. My knees screamed to run again. My wolf didn't.
She was… curious.
And angry.
The man looked me over, eyes lingering on the raw scar between my neck and shoulder. I thought he'd ask if it hurt.
He didn't.
"He forced it, didn't he?" he asked, voice low.
I blinked. Stared.
He nodded once, jaw tight. "Kaelen always was a bastard for ceremony."
"You know him?"
The smirk vanished.
"I'm his brother."
The air thinned.
I'd heard whispers. Rumors. That the Thorneblood Pack had once had two heirs. That one had been exiled after challenging Kaelen's authority in the Blood Trial.
They said he disappeared into the woods.
They said he went mad.
No one ever said his name.
"Ruvan," he said, like he'd read the question in my face.
"You shouldn't be here, Luna."
The way he said Luna was different. No reverence. Just bitter irony.
I bared my teeth. "Don't call me that."
A beat passed. His eyes flicked to my throat again.
"You don't wear it like one."
I should've run.
I should've remembered that I was alone, marked, and vulnerable.
But I didn't.
Instead, I stepped forward, just once.
The bond in my neck throbbed, furious. Kaelen's presence flared across the mark like fire on oil.
But Ruvan didn't flinch. Didn't step back.
"You came out here to die?" he asked.
"No," I said. "I came out here to choose."
He tilted his head. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze.
"Choose what?"
I met his eyes dead-on.
"To mark you."
Silence. Even the trees seemed to recoil.
"You don't want that," he said.
"No. But I need it."
I could feel the blood pulsing in my mouth. My wolf stirred. She knew. Another bond might kill me. Might kill him.
But I'd rather be split in two than live as Kaelen's leash-bound pet.
"Let me," I whispered.
"Let me break it. Let me break him."
Ruvan didn't move.
He didn't growl.
He just looked at me—like I was something he'd never seen before. Not prey. Not threat. Something worse.
Something free.
He nodded once.
And offered me his throat.
I bit him.
And the bond screamed.