Chapter Thirteen
Danae
The ceremonial grounds are breathtaking, but I can’t appreciate them. Not fully. The grand space at the base of the mountain is decorated with lanterns and colorful banners, and servants dressed in crisp uniforms move gracefully, offering refreshments to the seated guests. Everything looks perfect, but I feel like an intruder in my own union ceremony. The mountain looms above us, its jagged peak hidden by mist. A quiet reminder of what lies ahead.
I wander toward my parents, who are seated in the front row. My father looks up as I approach, his warm brown eyes crinkling with affection. He pats my head softly, the way he always did when I was a little girl, and I feel a pang of homesickness so deep it nearly knocks me over.
“How have things been, my dear?” my mother asks, her voice calm but probing. Her sharp gaze feels like it pierces right through my facade. I force a smile, though it feels brittle.
“Everything’s fine,” I reply lightly, hoping she believes me. How can I tell her the truth? That Silas confuses me, frustrates me, and infuriatingly makes my heart race all at once. That Joseph sends a friendly warmth through me that I wish was more than just friendly. That Adriel, my intended brother, makes me feel like I’m the only girl in the world. How do I tell my mother that I’m walking into this union with more doubts than I’ve ever had in my life?
My father grunts, satisfied, but my mother narrows her eyes slightly. I know she can sense I’m holding something back, but thankfully, she doesn’t press further.
I excuse myself and head toward my brothers, who are grouped near the edge of the seating area. Their presence is like a glass of cool water to my fired up nerves. Jerome, always the loudest, spots me first. He breaks into a wide grin. “Well, look who’s about to be the newest bride in the world!”
The others laugh and join in with playful jabs. Mathis, our eldest, shakes his head at their antics and steps forward, his expression serious. “You okay, little sister? You don’t seem like yourself.”
I hesitate but finally admit, “It’s been challenging. I miss home. I miss all of you.”
Mathis squeezes my shoulder, his steady presence grounding me. “You’ll be okay. You’re stronger than you think.”
“Yeah,” Jerome adds with a wink. “Besides, you’re about to be married to a hotshot Alpha. What’s not to like?”
Damien and Constantine chime in, their playful teasing easing some of the pressure that’s built up within me. Robin, my youngest brother, steps forward and hugs me tightly. “I miss you too,” he whispers. “But you’ll do great. You always do.”
Their support lifts my spirits, even if just a little. But then the Jorg family arrives, and the atmosphere spins.
Adriel is the first to catch my eye. He walks by with that infuriating smirk of his, giving me a teasing wink that makes my stomach flip. I don’t respond, but I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.
More members of the Jorg family follow, their arrival formal and imposing. The butlers make introductions, but it’s impossible not to notice the way they exchange glances, subtle but pointed. When Silas’s parents arrive, the curtness in their tone is unmistakable. They’re polite, yes, but it’s clear they’re not thrilled about this union.
I feel a lump form in my throat.
They think I’m not good enough. Because I’m just a recessive Omega from another city. Who can blame them?
The priest’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts, announcing that the ceremony is about to begin. My heart pounds as he calls for Silas and me to shift to our wolves and step forward.
Shifting into my wolf form is always an odd sensation, like shedding one skin and stepping into another. My senses sharpen immediately, and I’m acutely aware of every gaze on me as my parents lead me forward. Silas is already there, his wolf form striking and powerful, and I can’t help but notice how his sleek, dark fur gleams in the sunlight.
When the priest tells us to release our pheromones, I hesitate for a fraction of a second. But then I let go, and the moment both our pheromones are in the air, it’s like the world tilts on its axis.
I can’t believe it.
A perfect match.
The bliss is overwhelming, sparks fly, and the euphoria of a perfect match is undeniably consuming our wolves. My wolf wags her tail and hops in excitement, and to my surprise, Silas’s wolf mirrors the gesture. I can’t believe it. Neither, it seems, can the crowd. Gasps ripple through the audience, and the priest’s voice booms, “It appears we have a perfect match.”
Silas’s wolf nudges mine gently, and we begin the trek up the mountain.
The climb is brutal.
The terrain is steep and uneven, the rocks slick from a light mist that clings to the air. My wolf isn’t used to this kind of environment, but I push myself to keep up with Silas, who moves with effortless grace.
When we reach the halfway point, he shifts back into his human form. He mentioned we’d do this when he lectured me about the details of the ceremony a few days ago. We’d go halfway as our wolves but will have to climb the rest of the way with our bare human hands. I follow his lead, shifting back too, though it takes a moment to steady myself.
And then it hits me… he’s completely naked.
I try not to stare, but it’s impossible not to notice the sheer strength in his broad shoulders, the defined lines of his torso. My face burns.
For the briefest moment, I see an intense look wash over his features as he looks at me. It’s so masculine and so raw that my breath hitches. But he shakes it off just before it lingers long enough for me to say anything.
He clears his throat and says, “I’ll get the ceremonial clothes.”
He turns his back to me, walking towards where I assume these ceremonial clothes are. But now, my eyes have lost all control. They fall on his figure helplessly.
The sight almost makes me salivate. His back is rugged and muscular, and I can almost feel my fingers running over it. His quads and glutes are firm, thick, the ripped muscles bouncing with each step.
I turn away just in time as he grabs some clothes nearby and turns back, walking towards me.
He hands me a strip of fabric that barely qualifies as clothing, and I quickly wrap it around myself, doing my best to cover what little I can. He dresses too, though the loincloth does little to hide his physique.
I hate that he’s so fucking hot. I hate that it’s having an effect on me.
And it’s not just that.
I can still feel his pheromones lingering, and goodness gracious, it is taking everything in me not to react. The rigid timber scent sends a rush of desire that gives me the urge to tighten my hips around him.
And as I look at him, I notice it. Through the thin cloth, a bulge forms. It’s clear my pheromones have done a number on him too, but he shuts it down quickly.
“It’s going to rain soon,” he says, his voice curt. “Come on. We need to keep moving.”
The climb grows steeper, the rocks sharper, and the rain starts to drizzle. My fingers ache, my arms tremble, and my breaths come in sharp gasps.
Silas, climbing ahead, stops and looks back. “Come on! Keep up! Why are you so far behind?”
I grit my teeth. “I’m trying!”
He shakes his head. “I’d be at the top by now if you weren’t slowing us down. Hurry up before the rain gets worse.”
Oh, fuck you!
The irritation bubbles over, and I shout back, “What kind of ceremony is this, anyway? This is ridiculous! Archaic! Completely unnecessary!”
He doesn’t even turn around. “You can keep complaining, or you can climb.”
His dismissive tone only fuels my frustration. “What’s this supposed to prove? That I can climb a mountain? How does that make me a better mate?”
He finally glances back, his expression unreadable. “It’s tradition. If you don’t like it, maybe you should’ve stayed in your city.”
The words sting, but I press on. By the time we reach the top, I’m wet from the drizzling rain, exhausted, and barely able to stand. Silas barely spares me a glance before tossing the bag onto the rocky ground and walking toward the cave. He’s barely out of breath, his stride as confident and effortless as if we’d just taken a leisurely stroll.
I, on the other hand, collapse onto my back, panting, my fingers aching from the climb and my legs trembling. The rain starts to pound down relentlessly, and I can feel it soaking through the flimsy ceremonial cloth we’re wearing.
“Get up,” Silas calls over his shoulder, his tone flat, almost bored. “We have to light the ceremonial fires in the cave. Our families will see the fires from below, and then they’ll know we’ve passed the test.”
I roll my eyes, muttering under my breath, “Of course we do.” But I push myself up, wobbling slightly as I find my footing. I follow him into the cave, my teeth chattering as the sudden shelter from the rain provides little comfort against the chill that has seeped into my bones.
Silas crouches near a fire pit we find inside the cave, pulling out flint and a small bundle of dried wood from the bag. His movements are quick, efficient, and maddeningly calm.
He strikes the flint until sparks leap to life. The flames catch, licking at the damp air of the cave, and he passes the flint to me without a word. I take it, my fingers brushing against his briefly before I light the second pit. The fires flare, their heat pushing back the chill that clings to the stone walls.
For a moment, I let my eyes linger on the flames. But his voice breaks the stillness as he pulls dried meat and two bottles of water from his pack. He hands me some of each before settling back, his gaze fixed on me.
"Traditions like this have kept my people strong for generations," he says, his tone almost patronizing. "That’s why we have so many strong Alphas and Omegas. So maybe think twice before you start calling it unnecessary."
The way he talks like he’s always got the final word. It grates on me so much.
“Oh, really?” I snap, my voice rising. “Then why are the strongest Alpha and Omega from my city not here? Even the White Wolf is from my city!”
He scoffs, his tone dripping with condescension. “Having strong pheromones and being physically strong aren’t the same thing.”
The words land, obnoxious as ever but tolerable. It’s what he says next that sets my blood on fire.
“I mean, you would know. You were so much bigger and stronger than all the Omegas back in your city that they had to ship you here just to find a mate.”
My breath catches. For a second, I’m too stunned to respond. Then the rage takes over.
Without thinking, I fling a handful of meat at him. He ducks just in time, but the shock in his eyes is clear.
“Danae, what the hell?!” he shouts, his voice echoing off the cave walls.
I’m already on my feet, pure rage propelling me forward. “You fucking asshole!” I yell, swinging my arm at him.
But he catches my wrist, his grip firm, almost bruising. His eyes lock onto mine, a storm brewing in their depths.
“Yeah,” he snaps. “I’m the only fucking asshole who accepted you!”
My chest heaves as my heart pounds in my ears. I’ve never felt this angry before in my entire life, and that’s saying something, given the kind of men I’ve encountered.
I don’t know if it’s the rage or my body defending me with my hand still firmly in his grip, but my pheromones surge out, completely on reflex. They fill the air between us, and I can see his eyes blink rapidly, clearly caught off guard.
When he steadies himself, he is …different. His muscles are more taunt than before, his body looks like it’s become more ripped in an instant, his veins popping into view.
His grip on my wrist grows tighter, but it’s different. It’s not defensive now. It’s more possessive, sending that darn lustful pang through me. I hate how I can still feel this way, even with how infuriating he is.
And then, like an animal let loose, he pulls me into him.
Our lips collide in a kiss that’s wild, beastly, and full of all the anger I’ve bottled up. It’s messy and hard, teeth clashing, breaths tangling, and right now, I don’t care about anything else.