Page 5 of The Onyx Covenant (The Lunaterra Chronicles #2)

Damien plays along beautifully, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of my back as he leads me toward a less crowded area. I catch a glimpse of my parents across the room, my father deep in conversation with some dignitary, while my mother watches me with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“I should be careful,” I murmur. “My parents are watching.”

“Mine, too,” Damien admits. “Though they’re probably thrilled to see me talking to someone from a proper pack family instead of hiding among the potted plants.” He tilts his head, studying me. “You know, you have the most fascinating eyes. Like twilight captured in?—”

“Mooncrest.”

The deep voice comes from directly behind me, dark and dangerous and achingly familiar. Damien’s expression shifts from playful to wary as his eyes lift to meet those of the man standing over my shoulder.

“Shadowmane,” Damien acknowledges, his arm tensing beneath my fingers. “I was just?—”

“Leaving,” Theron finishes for him, stepping to my side. He towers over both of us, radiating the kind of lethal grace that reminds everyone he’s not just a man in formal attire but a predator in a thin veneer of civilization. “Alone.”

The command in his tone makes Damien hesitate, clearly torn between gentlemanly obligation to stay with me and self-preservation. I decide to spare him.

“It’s all right, Damien,” I say, squeezing his arm once before releasing it. “An old friend who’s forgotten his manners, nothing more.”

Theron’s jaw tightens exactly as I’d hoped it would.

“If you’re certain,” Damien says, skepticism clear in his tone.

“She’s certain,” Theron growls, his hand closing around my upper arm. Not painfully, but with enough pressure to make his intentions clear.

Damien gives me one last questioning look, which I answer with a nod.

“A pleasure meeting you, Lady Mooncrest,” he says, backing away with a formality that feels like armor. “Perhaps we’ll continue our conversation… later.”

The subtle emphasis makes Theron’s fingers tighten infinitesimally on my arm. Damien turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving me alone with the wolf who broke my heart.

“Get your hand off me,” I hiss, quiet enough that only he can hear.

“We need to talk,” he responds, equally quiet but with an undercurrent of barely contained fury. “Now.”

I glance around, aware of curious eyes watching our interaction. Making a scene would only draw more attention, something neither of us can afford.

“Fine,” I concede, yanking my arm from his grasp. “But not here.”

Without waiting for his response, I turn and stride toward the nearest exit, a set of glass doors leading to a balcony. My skin burns where he touched me, anger and something far more dangerous coursing through my veins.

I burst through the doors onto the balcony, gulping the cool air. Solmane sprawls below, but I barely register the view. I twist around toward Theron as he steps through the doors behind me, shutting them.

“How dare you?” I spit. “You have no right to dictate who I speak with.”

Theron’s eyes gleam dangerously. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“Why would you be jealous?” I counter, standing my ground despite the urge to retreat from his overwhelming presence. “You don’t care about me, remember? I’m the enemy .”

“Is that what you think?” His tone drops. “That I don’t care?”

I don’t wait for his response, turning and pushing along the long balcony that circles the building, needing distance from him. We’re alone out here, and for a moment, I pause, my knuckles on the railing white with the effort of holding myself together.

“Lyra.”

Of course he followed me. Of course he couldn’t let me escape.

“Go away, Theron,” I say without turning. “We have nothing to say to each other.”

“I disagree.” His response is closer now, just behind me. “We have a year’s worth of things to say.”

I spin to face him, anger easier to embrace than the alternative.

“Like what? Like how you were betrothed to another woman while stringing me along? Like how you never bothered to tell me the truth? Or maybe you’d like to explain why you’re here without her. Did she finally see through you, too?”

Pain lashes across his face, quickly masked. “Is that what you think happened?”

“I know what I saw.”

“You saw what my father wanted everyone to see.” He takes a step closer, and it takes everything in me not to retreat. “If you had stayed, if you had let me explain?—”

“Don’t.” I hold up a hand, unable to bear whatever justification he’s crafted. “I don’t care anymore. You made your choice, Theron. Live with it.”

I take a step away.

“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be running from me right now. You wouldn’t be looking at me the way you are,” he continues.

“And how exactly is that?” The words come out harsh, edged with the pain I can’t quite hide.

“Like you still love me.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Like you hate that you do.”

My heart stutters painfully in my chest. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” He reaches out, his fingers hovering just shy of touching my cheek. “Tell me you’ve forgotten everything between us, and I’ll leave you alone. Tell me you don’t feel this, and I’ll walk away.”

I open my mouth to say exactly that, to cut the last thread binding us together, but the lie sticks in my throat.

“Where’s your mate?” I ask instead the question that’s been burning inside me since I first saw him alone.

His hand drops. “I don’t have one.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “What happened? Did you kill her off already?”

“If you must know,” he says, “she rejected me after my father arranged it. Apparently, the honor of being Magnus Shadowmane’s daughter-in-law wasn’t worth risking her life. She said she’d heard stories about my father and feared I was exactly like him.”

This revelation catches me off guard. Of all the reasons I’d imagined for his broken betrothal, this wasn’t one of them.

“She was afraid of you?”

“Of becoming another of my father’s victims by proxy.” His expression softens slightly. “Not that it matters. I never intended to go through with it, Lyra.”

“And now you know the feeling of rejection,” I say, unable to process his claim that he never meant to mate with her. It’s too much, too late.

“I knew how it felt the night you walked away from me.” The raw honesty in his tone threatens to unravel my defenses. “I’ve known it every day since.”

We stand frozen in a moment that feels balanced on a knife-edge. The city hums below us, and between us stretches a year of silence and pain.

Suddenly, Theron flinches, his eyes widening as he glances down at his wrist. I follow his gaze, confused, then gasp when I see what’s captured his attention.

Around his wrist, a band of polished onyx shot through with veins of silver pulses with an inner light that grows stronger by the second.

A manacle—the binding used in the Harvest Ritual to connect champions to their chosen Omegas.

“What’s happening?” I whisper, staring at the glowing manacle with horrific realization dawning. “Your manacle… it’s activated. Here? Now? In the middle of the United Houses Luncheon?”

Before I can process what’s happening, Theron lunges forward, his movements predatory and precise. His hand clamps around my left wrist, grip like iron—not painful, but a clear statement that I won’t be escaping. His skin burns against mine, fever-hot with magic and intent.

I try to wrench away, but the gleam in his storm-gray eyes tells me it’s exactly what he expected. Something cold and heavy materializes against my skin—a perfect twin to the manacle on his wrist, binding us together with ancient, ruthless magic.

“What have you done?” I snarl, watching in horror as my manacle begins to pulse with sickly light, matching the rhythm of his. White-hot pain shoots up my arm like a lightning strike, tearing a scream from my throat.

Theron doesn’t flinch. There’s no shock on his face, only dark satisfaction as he watches the manacles connect.

“Why would you do this?” I demand, pacing now, yanking at the cruel metal as if I could tear it from my flesh. “How could you?”

Theron steps closer. “You know why.”

“This shouldn’t even be working,” I hiss, still pulling against the bond. The pain has receded, replaced by a pulsing warmth that terrifies me more. “We’re from opposite packs. No one has ever matched from Elios and Umbra in the Harvest Ritual. These manacles only bind champions to Omegas from their own pack, so one pack takes the Onyx Covenant positions.”

A cruel smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “And yet, here we are.”

“Take it off,” I demand.

“I can’t,” he adds, and for a moment, I think I hear regret beneath the steel in his words, but then his eyes darken, almost black now. “Maybe this is simply the Shadowed Moon’s will, bringing darkness to light.”

“Don’t you dare,” I spit. “Don’t invoke your cursed moon when you’ve trapped me in this. The Veiled Moon would never sanction such a betrayal.”

“Isn’t it more of a betrayal to disappear for a year?” he asks, following as I try to put distance between us on the balcony. The manacles pull taut, forcing me to stop. “I went to our meeting place every week, Lyra. You never showed.”

“You made your decision,” I bark, the memory of seeing him with her flashing before my eyes.

“And now I’m undoing it,” he growls, stepping closer until I’m backed against the railing. His scent—pine needles and winter frost with smoky amber—surrounds me, achingly familiar. “This challenge gives me the right to claim what should have been mine all along.”

“By adding me to this dangerous fucking ritual without my consent?”

“I’ll keep you protected,” he promises, and he lowers his lips to my ear. “No harm will come to what’s mine.”

“You’re insane,” I whisper, hating how my body betrays me, leaning toward him even as my mind screams to run. “The Alphas will kill us both for this.”

His laugh is dark velvet. “Let them try. We’re guarded by the Onyx Covenant rules.”

The manacle pulses again, and beneath the anger and fear, a dangerous thrill courses through me, the wolf in me responding to the irrevocable claiming, my traitorous heart remembering what it was like to be his. The moon priestess in me knows this bond is forbidden, but the woman I am wonders if it’s true that fate has drawn us together.

Theron’s fingers brush against the ceremonial markings on my face, a touch that’s almost tender despite everything.

“You can hate me for this, Lyra,” he murmurs. “But I won’t lose you, and you cannot deny what flows between us.”

Gods help me, I can’t.

The doors to the balcony burst open behind us, and we spring apart. Theron’s father, Magnus, stands framed in the doorway, his crimson eyes taking in the scene with frightening calculation. Behind him, my parents appear, my father’s face a mask of confusion that rapidly turns to horror as his gaze locks on our wrists. They all pour out onto the balcony.

“Theron?” Magnus snarls. His tone is directed at his son, but his murderous glare is fixed on me.

“Father,” Theron begins, stepping slightly in front of me in a protective gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone.

“Lyra, are you all right?” My mother’s voice breaks through the tension, her eyes wide with disbelief. “How is this possible?”

My father pushes past Magnus, reaching for my arm to examine the manacle. “This is outrageous,” he growls, looking up at Theron with pure hatred. “An Umbra champion cannot claim an Elios Omega! It violates the most sacred rules of the Harvest!”

“Yet the magic has accepted the claiming,” my mother observes quietly, her fingers hovering over the glowing band. “Look… the patterns match perfectly.”

She’s right. The silver veins running through both our manacles have arranged themselves into identical patterns, pulsing with the same rhythm. According to everything I’ve ever been taught about the Harvest Ritual, this shouldn’t be possible. The Alpha and Omega team must be from the same pack, ensuring the winner comes from only one pack to take over the Onyx Covenant.

“I will have this undone,” Magnus declares. “The Onyx Covenant will hear of this perversion.”

“They can’t undo it,” Theron replies, standing his ground despite the threat emanating from his father. “Once the manacles have accepted the pairing?—”

“You dare to lecture me on ancient law?” Magnus cuts him off, taking a menacing step forward. “This is a deliberate insult to our pack. To claim an Elios wolf, and not just any Elios—the daughter of their Alpha?”

My father turns to Magnus, his anger momentarily redirected. “If anyone should be outraged, it’s me. Your son has trapped my daughter in a ritual that could get her killed!”

The full weight of the situation settles on me. I’m bound to Theron Shadowmane. We will face the trials together, our lives literally dependent on each other’s survival. After a year of heartbreak and hatred, fate has forced us back together in the cruelest possible way.

“This changes nothing,” Magnus blurts out. “You still need to present yourself with your… chosen Omega at the Onyx Covenant by midnight to begin the Harvest Ritual.” He spits the words chosen Omega like they’re poison. “As for this… abomination…” His gaze shifts between Theron and me, contempt evident in every line of his face. “The Onyx Covenant will decide what to do about it.”

With that, he turns and stalks back into the ballroom.

My parents remain, my father looking as though he might physically tear Theron limb from limb, my mother’s face unreadable as she studies our bound wrists.

“I need to speak with my daughter,” my father says finally, the tightly controlled rage behind his words making me flinch. “Alone.”

“We can speak in the adjacent room,” my mother suggests, gesturing to a small antechamber back inside the building. “The binding allows for up to fifty feet of separation.”

The thought of being able to put even that small distance between us brings momentary relief until I remember that this invisible tether will remain for the duration of the Harvest Ritual.

“I’ll wait here,” Theron states. “But don’t go farther than the next room. The pain starts gradually, but it becomes… intense.”

My father’s jaw tightens dangerously, but he nods once, sharply, and nudges me toward the antechamber. The moment we cross the threshold, I feel it—a slight tugging sensation at my wrist, not quite painful but definitely present. A constant reminder that I’m no longer completely free.

“What has he done to you?” my father demands the moment the door closes. “How is this even possible?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, my own shock still making it difficult to think clearly. “The manacle activated, he grabbed my wrist, and…” I gesture helplessly at the glowing band.

“And the magic accepted it,” my mother finishes, her eyes fixed on the manacle with unsettling intensity. “This is unprecedented. In all the history of the Harvest that I’m aware of, there has never been a cross-pack claiming. And there’s a reason for that—to ensure the team who wins will be the one pack that takes control of the Onyx Covenant for the next ten years.”

“It’s forbidden!” my father explodes. “He’s trapped our daughter. The trials are designed to be lethal. How many participants don’t return each decade? And now she’s bound to the son of our greatest enemy!”

“I’m right here,” I remind them, frustration cutting through my shock. “And I can handle myself. I’m not some helpless Omega who needs protection.”

Both my parents turn to look at me incredulously.

“Lyra,” my mother says carefully. “You don’t understand what this means. The Harvest Ritual isn’t just a physical challenge. It tests the bond between Alpha and Omega, forces them to work together in ways that?—”

“That require trust,” I finish for her. “I know the stories.”

What I don’t say—what I can’t say—is that Theron and I once had that trust. Before he shattered it. Before I spent a year trying to hate him.

“We need to get back to Wolfhaven immediately,” my father decides. “The Onyx Covenant might be able to dissolve this binding. If a partner requests removal on grounds of inability or unfairness, it’s not too late. And Theron can still continue the games on his own.”

I don’t say anything, as I’m still in shock myself.

My father curses, a rare display of raw emotion from the usually composed Alpha.

Mother turns to me, her expression softening slightly. “Lyra, is there something you’re not telling us about you and the Alpha’s son?”

My heart stops for a beat, then races to catch up. Does she know? Has she somehow figured out what happened between us?

“What do you mean?” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady.

“The ancient magic wouldn’t have accepted such an unprecedented pairing without… something binding you already. Some connection.” Her eyes are too knowing, too perceptive.

“There’s nothing,” I lie quickly, even as the manacle seems to warm against my skin as if contradicting me. “He’s the enemy. Always has been.”

My mother doesn’t look convinced, but before she can press further, the door to the balcony opens. Theron stands in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space.

“We should go,” he says. “My father has already left for the portal back to Wolfhaven.”

My father steps between us, a growl building low in his throat. “You’re not taking my daughter anywhere.”

“With all due respect, Alpha Mooncrest,” Theron responds, his tone careful, “neither of us has a choice now. If we don’t present ourselves to the Onyx Covenant by midnight, we’ll be disqualified, and the binding will remain until the Harvest Ritual concludes anyway. Our best chance is to go through with this.”

My mother places a restraining hand on my father’s arm. “He’s right. Let’s go back and talk to the Covenant.”

For a moment, I think my father might attack Theron, consequences be damned. Then his shoulders slump fractionally, defeat and fury warring in his eyes.

“If anything happens to her, if she comes to any harm because of you or your pack, there won’t be a place in any of the kingdoms where you can hide from me.”

Theron meets his gaze unflinchingly. “Understood.”

My mother steps forward, taking my hands in hers.

One thought cuts through all others—tonight, the man who broke my heart has bound our fates together irrevocably. What scares me most isn’t the deadly trials ahead of us; it’s the treacherous hope buried deep in my chest that refuses to die.