Sorin
Once again, I stood at the bottom of the staircase, waiting for my mate. Only this time, everything had changed.
We were a team now—working together to restore true bonds between Alpha and Omega, to unwrite a thousand years of lies one pack at a time. The scribes in my study had already filled half a dozen scrolls with the old ways, the true ways, everything
Marianne and the soothsayer had confirmed.
It would take time to mass-produce the writings, longer still to persuade other packs to abandon what they’d been taught for generations.
But the work had begun. The Moon Goddess had given me Aliana, and I would not disrespect her blessing by moving slowly out of fear.
We were the embodiment of how the Goddess had designed us to be.
Equals.
Her scent reached me before my eyes did—warm, rich, unmistakably hers, threaded now with something new beneath it, something that made Malakh go quiet and reverent every time he caught it.
Then I saw her, and the vision stole what little composure I had left. My hand rose to my chest without thought, resting flat over the ink there—over her name, permanent now, inked into the place I’d kept empty for years.
She wore a deep red gown, cut in the same lines as her mating ceremony dress, but where that one had glowed gold, this one glittered black—beading dark as a moonless sky scattered across blood-red silk.
Red and black. Our colours, worn like a declaration.
The pewter-and-ruby crown sat low beneath her veil, catching what little light slipped through the windows.
“Whoa,” someone breathed behind me, and the whispers started before she’d even reached the final stair.
My eyes dropped to her belly—soft curves hidden beneath layers of fabric, our daughters tucked safely out of sight. Damn this celebration. Damn every Alpha filling my compound tonight, watching her, cataloguing her. But diplomacy came first. It always did, in the beginning.
Once more I found myself captured by the kohl rimming her eyes, thick and smoky, drawing every gaze toward them.
This time they glowed bright red beneath the paint—not with fever, not with the fury of a wolf recognising a threat, but with something warmer.
Something that had never once looked at me with doubt since the day she woke from death.
“My love,” I whispered, lifting her hands to press my lips against each one, bowing my head low. “My Luna Queen.”
She tipped my chin up with two fingers and leaned in before I could straighten. I met her halfway, kissing those red-stained lips, tasting the faint sweetness she’d left there.
“My Alpha King,” she murmured against my mouth, stroking my cheek with her thumb. “Let’s do this.”
In my mind, I was already commissioning three more crowns for my daughters. They would remain my forever princesses—once I’d slaughtered their mates. Sadly, only in my mind.
Aliana sighed.
She always knew when my thoughts turned homicidal.
? ? ?
The most powerful packs had been invited. The invitation extended to their mates, pups, and immediate family. Most of my pack were in attendance, mingling beneath strings of lantern light that swayed gently in the evening breeze.
Many more remained hidden, snipers positioned along the compound’s outer walls, their presence a quiet insurance policy no guest needed to know about. Only a fraction of my officers moved openly among the crowd, doing slow, deliberate rotations.
We made our way through the gathering as I introduced Aliana to families she’d only ever heard about in passing—names from old treaties, old rivalries, old debts. Silk and gold thread caught the last of the evening light.
Somewhere, a string quartet played something low and unobtrusive, the kind of music meant to be background rather than centrepiece.
While the pleasantries continued—handshakes, bows, careful compliments about the celebration—I found myself quietly taking stock of the male pups scattered throughout the crowd.
By the Moon Goddess, they’re pups. You cannot give them the death stare, she exclaimed through our link, and I felt her arm tighten around mine in warning.
They’re the future enemy, I replied, my gaze settling on the Grimclaw spawn.
He couldn’t have been more than six or seven, dressed head to toe in black—black suit, black tie, small polished shoes that probably cost more than most of my pack earned in a month. His eyes were dark and unreadable, watching the adults around him with a stillness no child his age should have.
I think he looks cute in that little black suit and tie, Aliana interrupted, entirely unhelpfully.
Look at that one there. To the right, Malakh said.
I followed the direction and found the Wintercrest Luna cradling a small, swaddled bundle against her shoulder, rocking gently as she spoke with another guest.
That’s a girl, I told him.
Exactly. Look how ugly it is. Our three will be stunning.
Aliana choked on her strawberry lemonade beside me, coughing hard enough that several nearby guests turned to look.
I began rubbing slow circles against her back, taking the glass from her trembling hand while she recovered, appalled amusement written all over her face.