Chapter 1 #3
Silver eyes. Sharp. Piercing. Something dark flickered there, something just as dangerous as the bond tugging between us.
My breath hitched. I should have moved. Should have broken the moment before it unraveled any further. But I couldn't.
Not with my body still humming. Not with his hands still hovering near my waist. Not when my wolf sighed at the contact, whispering a single, damning word in the back of my mind.
Mate.
His fingers twitched—as if he felt it too. And then, just as swiftly as he had caught me, he let go.
I staggered back, my pulse roaring in my ears, my body betraying me with its lingering warmth.
"Careful," he murmured, the word so low I barely caught it.
One might think he actually cared. But I knew better.
I forced myself to breathe, to ignore the way my skin still burned. Straightening my spine, I lifted my chin, matching his cold indifference. "I didn't need your help," I bit out, ignoring the lie in my own words.
Draven's gaze flicked to my lips for a fraction of a second. Then, without another word, he turned away, his attention shifting to his warriors. They stood stiff and silent, their expressions unreadable. Did they ever speak?
An older woman stepped from the pack house, her silver-streaked hair pulled back, her sharp eyes missing nothing. "Alpha."
Draven inclined his head. "Mirella."
The woman turned to me, her gaze sweeping over me with clinical precision. Draven didn't bother with introductions.
Decency? What was I thinking? I doubted such a thing existed in his bones.
I forced a polite smile. "Greetings, Mirella. It's nice to meet you. I'm—"
"Luna," she interrupted, her voice flat.
No smile. No warmth. Just a nod. Something in my stomach twisted. Was this the coldness I'd have to endure for the rest of my life?
This made the idea of marriage to the Demon King far worse than I'd imagined. I could handle a monster. But a home without warmth? That was a fate I hadn't prepared for.
Draven turned away. "See to her needs."
Something inside me snapped.
"That's it?" My voice was quiet, but it cut through the silence like a blade.
Draven stopped. His shoulders tensed slightly, but he didn't turn.
"What else do you want, princess?"
The way he said it—my title dripping with disdain—sent a strange heat crawling down my spine. It shouldn't have mattered. But the way my stomach clenched betrayed me.
I took a slow step forward. "You're not going to welcome me into our home? Show me around? Maybe even our room?"
This time, he turned. His silver eyes locked onto mine, sharp and unreadable. My wolf stirred, drawn to his presence like a moth to flame.
"That is what Mirella is here for."
I glanced at Mirella, who was now staring into the distance, her expression blank. "As newlyweds, shouldn't we be bonding?"
His eyes darkened. "Make no mistake, Elara. This is not a real marriage. I'm fulfilling a promise to your father—nothing more. Remember that."
I flinched. Not because his words surprised me—but because they still hurt.
I had never expected love. But I had hoped for a home. A husband who might at least acknowledge my existence.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my expression to ice over. "I won't forget my place, Alpha."
His jaw tightened. For a second, I thought he might say something else. But then—
"Alpha." A deep voice interrupted.
A tall, broad-shouldered man approached, his dark hair streaked with silver. He greeted Draven with a nod before turning to me. "Luna."
His tone was polite, even respectful. But not warm. I nodded back.
Draven started to turn away—then hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second. It was quick, barely noticeable, but I caught it. The way his fingers curled slightly at his side, as if resisting something.
Then it was gone, replaced by the same indifferent coldness.
"Alpha Draco is waiting for you," the Beta informed him.
Draven nodded sharply and strode away without another word. The moment he disappeared into the fortress, the silence pressed in, heavier than before.
The pack wolves still didn't meet my gaze. I inhaled slowly, then exhaled. Suddenly, I missed home. Missed laughter. Missed the feeling of belonging.
I blinked hard, pushing the sting from my eyes. I would not cry.
Mirella cleared her throat. "Please follow me, Luna."
And I did.
She led me through the fortress, the corridors long and empty, lined with black stone and torches that barely cut through the gloom. The air was thick with silence.
We climbed a spiraling staircase. The higher we went, the colder it became.
When we reached the top, Mirella stopped before a massive set of wooden doors. She pushed them open, then stepped aside without a word.
I took a slow step forward, my gaze sweeping the room.
A massive bed stood at the center, draped in furs. A fireplace rested against the far wall—unlit. Thick curtains covered the windows, blocking out what little light remained.
Everything was pristine. But untouched. Like no one had ever truly lived here.
I turned to Mirella. "This is my room?"
She nodded.
I hesitated. "And the Alpha's?"
Her expression didn't change. "On the other side of the hall."
Draven couldn't have made it more obvious that I wasn't welcome here. My chest tightened. From the beginning, he had no intention of treating this as a real marriage.
Fine. I expected nothing less.
Forcing a breath, I moved toward the windows and pulled the curtains back. The view stretched across Silverpeak's endless, dead expanse. I looked at my reflection in the glass.
Small. Alone. Unwanted.
I clenched my fists. "Silverpeak is very different from Emerald Vale."
Mirella didn't react.
I turned to face her. "Has it always been like this?"
She hesitated. Then, with careful politeness, she said, "It is how it has always been."
I exhaled. "You can go. I'll be fine."
Mirella hesitated, then gave a small bow and left.
The door closed behind her. And for the first time since leaving home—I was alone.