Page 5

FIVE

SELENE

S elene woke to the distant sound of steel boots outside her door.

She kept her eyes closed at first, not because she was tired—sleep had come in fits and starts—but because the moment she acknowledged the room around her, the moment she let her mind remember where she was and what had happened, the dam inside her would crack.

But it was already too late for that, wasn’t it?

The soft rustle of furs against her skin was unfamiliar. The bed was too large, too firm. The ceiling above her was arched stone painted in shadows from the flickering hearth. Wolf sigils carved into the beams stared down like watchers.

This was not a guest chamber.

This was a cage dressed as courtesy.

Her hand shifted beneath the blanket, and her fingers brushed bare skin.

It pulsed. A soft, persistent ache just beneath her collarbone.

The Mark.

Not a dream. Not some ritual fantasy fueled by old shifter folklore. It was real—burned into her skin, her blood. Irrevocable. Binding.

Her eyes opened.

The room was dimly lit, heavy curtains drawn across narrow windows. A small table near the fireplace held untouched food, a pitcher of something herbal. Everything was neat, controlled, like the space had been curated for someone about to break. Or someone who already had.

She sat up slowly, the fur-lined blanket slipping from her shoulders.

Beneath the thin shift they'd given her to sleep in, the skin over her heart felt tight, raw. Her fingers hovered over it but didn’t touch.

His mark. Their bond. Not by choice.

They’d made her his. In a way that was more than what she had initially agreed to. In front of a whole damn court. Her blood had bled into their sacred stone, and now, to them, she was no longer Selene Morwen. She was Kael Fenrir’s bonded mate.

Property.

The thought sent a sick heat crawling down her spine.

You’re the key to peace, her father had said.

He had to have known.

He knew their beliefs. Knew what the stone could do— had done . And he’d let her go like a lamb on a leash, trusting that she’d play her part well enough not to get torn apart.

“Damn them,” she whispered, voice raw.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of the blanket, squeezing until her knuckles turned white.

She felt him. Even now. Not with words or thoughts, nothing as clear as that.

But he was present in her skin. A second heartbeat.

A static hum at the back of her mind. There were moments it flared—like when she was dreaming, or half-asleep.

She could feel his agitation, the sharp edge of his awareness. It bled into her without permission.

She wanted it gone.

The door creaked.

Selene shot upright.

But it was just one of the guards—massive, silent, his armor etched with the sigil of House Fenrir. He didn’t look at her. Just nodded once and stepped aside as a servant entered behind him.

The girl was barely older than Selene, dark-haired with nervous fingers.

“I—uh—was sent to help you dress. For the… audience.”

Selene raised a brow. “Audience?”

The girl nodded. “You’re to be presented to the court today. As the bonded of the heir.”

The words hit like a slap.

“Of course,” Selene muttered, sliding off the bed with controlled precision. “Can’t waste a fresh spectacle.”

The servant moved efficiently, laying out garments—layers of silver and dark crimson silk. Nothing sheer or suggestive, but it still felt like a costume. A coronation for a crown she never wanted.

As the girl helped braid her hair, Selene’s mind drifted.

Kael.

He’d come to her chamber last night.

No guards. No witnesses. Just him.

She’d expected arrogance, some smug alpha declaration of ownership. But instead… he’d looked just as trapped as she felt. Haunted. Like the mark on his skin was eating him alive from the inside out.

He hadn’t tried to touch her. Hadn’t spoken cruelly. He hadn’t even asked her to play along.

He’d just looked at her like he didn’t know if she was his salvation or his executioner.

She had no idea who she was either.

But it didn’t change anything.

This bond, it violated her. Branded her. It stole her choice before she’d ever known she had one.

And she would find a way to break it.

Even if it killed her.

“Do I need to kneel?” she asked dryly as the girl finished lacing her boots.

The servant startled. “W-what?”

“For this little performance. Do they expect me to bow to the Alpha King or just let them inspect the merchandise from a distance?”

The girl’s eyes widened. “I—I don’t know…”

Selene forced a smile, soft but brittle. “Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of experience performing.”

Her father had trained her well. She’d learned to keep her back straight and her voice even while old men argued over treaties. Learned to sit silent while power-drunk officials discussed strategy like it was a chessboard and she was one of the pawns.

But not this time.

Not again.

By the time they led her from the guest quarters, her mask was back in place. Calm. Controlled. Unreadable.

Two guards flanked her, neither speaking.

They passed under archways carved with runes she didn’t recognize, the scent of frost and pine thick in the air. The citadel pulsed with life—servants moving quickly, shifters watching her with narrowed eyes.

Some curious.

Some resentful.

Some hungry.

She kept her gaze forward. Shoulders square. If they wanted to gawk, let them.

Let them see she wouldn’t flinch.

But as she neared the high doors of the court, her pace faltered.

Because she could feel him.

Kael.

Somewhere on the other side of that door. Like a cord pulling taut. Like a tide dragging her closer.

She squared her jaw and stepped into the light.