The mating ceremony was the kind that ballads might one day exaggerate , all gleaming moonlit silks, flickering silver torches, and the low, haunting hum of the pack's elders chanting blessings to the Moon Goddess.
Natalie stood before Alpha Damien, her spine straight, her expression flawless. The bond mark on her neck had only just begun to faintly glow from the completion of the ritual, but beneath her composed exterior, her eyes were cool, unreadable. The vows they exchanged were recited like a pact between strangers, each word deliberate and devoid of warmth.
When the ceremonial crown of intertwined silver branches and black wolf fur was placed upon her head, the gathered pack erupted into cheers and howls of approval. Yet neither she nor Damien softened. The air between them was taut, like a bowstring drawn and ready to snap.
Damien's hand closed over hers , the gesture expected of an Alpha with his newly bound mate , but there was no gentleness in his grip. His gaze was assessing, predatory, as though weighing her worth as the Luna who had been promised to him.
---
The reception was a feast fit for an Alpha's union: long wooden tables groaning under the weight of roasted boar, spiced venison, honey-drizzled bread, and goblets of crimson wine. Warriors in their formal leathers stood along the edges of the hall, betas and ranked wolves mingling with omegas who darted between guests to refill plates.
Natalie moved through the crowd with Damien at her side, her arm linked loosely with his. She could feel the stares from every corner ;some curious, some skeptical, and many filled with barely concealed judgment. The murmurs followed her like the shadow of a wolf through the forest.
"She's too quiet for a Luna.
They say she's from the outer territories… then why does she speak like a city wolf?
Look at her eyes… strange, aren't they? Not quite human"
She lifted her goblet and offered polite nods to those who met her gaze, acting as though she hadn't heard them. But she heard every word. Every whisper.
Damien spoke little during the reception, but his sharp eyes flickered toward her now and then, assessing her reactions, perhaps counting the lies that had brought her here.
When the final toast was raised and the warriors howled their approval, guests began slipping away in small clusters. Natalie's shoulders loosened slightly , until Damien's hand found hers again, guiding her out of the great hall toward the Alpha's private wing.
---
Their chambers were nothing like the crowded, noisy hall. The space was quiet, the air thick with the scent of cedarwood and the faint musk of wolf. Heavy pelts lay across the bed, and the stone hearth glowed faintly with embers.
Damien dismissed the omega attendants with a flick of his hand, the great oak doors closing behind them with a solid, final thud.
They were alone.
For a moment, the only sound was the soft crackle of the fire. Damien moved first, unfastening the clasps of his formal black leather jacket, revealing the edge of a pale scar that ran from his collarbone down to where it disappeared beneath his shirt. Natalie turned toward the polished silver mirror, her fingers working the hidden hooks of her ceremonial gown.
"You wore the Luna's crown well," he said at last, his tone as unreadable as his expression.
"It was heavy," she replied, her gaze fixed on her reflection.
He stepped closer, the weight of his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. "They say you were chosen for your strength… and your bloodline."
She let the words hang in the air, adjusting the silver clasp of her earring. "Is that what they say?"
"They say many things." He began to move around her slowly, like a wolf circling prey. "That you grew up in the mountains beyond our borders. That you can fight like a trained Beta. That your family's loyalty to the Blackmoon Pack is unshakable."
"And do you believe them?" She turned to face him, chin lifted.
"I believe in proof," he said. "And I have yet to see it."
Her lips curved faintly. "Perhaps you aren't looking closely enough."
"Oh, I am looking." His eyes locked onto hers, unblinking.
---
The questioning began like a hunt , deliberate, unhurried, each step designed to close in on the truth.
"
The questions continued — harmless enough on the surface, about her training, her travels, the packs she had visited. She dodged each one skillfully, deflecting when she could, answering vaguely when she must.
And then she slipped.
He asked, "What is your favorite flower?"
Without thinking, she replied, "The violet… my mother used to plant them outside our—" She stopped abruptly, too late.
"Our…?" His voice was soft, but it cut like a claw.
She smoothed her expression. "Our summer den," she finished, as though nothing had happened.
But she caught the flicker in his eyes — the small tightening at the corner of his mouth. He had noticed.
---
The silence that followed was heavier now, thrumming with something sharp and dangerous.
Damien stepped close enough that the heat of him brushed her skin. His gaze lingered on her face, then slid down the line of her throat, as though memorizing where her pulse beat.
"You wear your secrets well," he murmured.
"Perhaps because I have none worth keeping," she replied evenly.
A humorless sound left his throat — not quite a laugh. "We'll see."
Turning away, he began to unlace his cuffs with unhurried precision. The crackle of the fire filled the space between them, the sound of two wolves circling without striking.
Natalie stood still, feeling the weight of the night pressing into her bones. She had survived the ceremony, the whispers, and his first round of questions. But something in his eyes told her the real tests had yet to come.
Damien stopped at the window, his silhouette framed against the silver light of the moon. When he spoke again, his voice was so low she almost missed it.
"You are not," he said quietly, "the princess they promised me."
The words landed like a killing blow , silent, sharp, and irrevocable.
And in the glow of the dying fire, Natalie felt the first true chill of life beside the Alpha of the Blackmoon Pack.