The air was a storm of raw power, hot blood, and the metallic tang of fear.
The rogue Alpha—a beast of corrosive yellow eyes and matted, black fur—was an immediate, feral threat.
It was stronger than a lone wolf, clearly driven mad by the scent of the newly awakened Moonfire power emanating from my skin. It didn't want the territory; it wanted me.
Rhys, in his magnificent gray wolf form, fought with savage efficiency.
Teeth flashed, bone crunched, and the sounds of the struggle were deafening.
He was clearly the strongest in pure wolf form, his movements calculated, focused entirely on neutralizing the threat away from me.
Kain, however, fought with his human weapons and supernatural speed. He danced around the periphery of the brawl, his blade a silver blur, slicing through the Rogue's thick hide and drawing dark, viscous blood.
His eyes, though fixed on the fight, kept snapping back to me, not in concern, but in a burning need to assess the power I now radiated.
"Stay down!" Crown commanded, grabbing my arm and yanking me behind the dubious cover of a thick pine tree.
He didn't shift; he stood over me, his human form radiating authority and danger.
"The Moonfire is like a mating call to the lost and the damned. You're a beacon, and we are not ready to defend a full-scale assault."
But I couldn't stay down. The sudden surge of raw energy was still pumping through my veins, making my muscles twitch and my breath catch.
The fight was a symphony of chaos, and the primal part of my mind, the part that had just been shattered open by the Alphas' touches, recognized the violence as necessary.
The Rogue Alpha roared, shaking off Rhys's attack and lunging again, this time aiming directly for the flimsy tree where Crown and I hid.
"Use it!" Kain screamed, his voice strained as he distracted the beast with a lightning-fast cut to its flank. "The power! You have to shield yourself!"
I didn't know how. I only knew that if that massive jaw clamped down on Crown, or worse, if it reached Rhys, the consequences would be dire.
I looked at the silver crescent mark on my wrist. It was pulsing wildly, radiating heat. I focused on the feeling—that liquid gold heat that had settled in my belly—and shoved it outward.
A silent, shimmering wave of brilliant blue-silver energy exploded from my palm, hitting the Rogue Alpha mid-air.
It wasn't a physical force like a punch; it was pure spirit.
The Rogue shrieked—a high, agonized sound that was abruptly cut short.
The beast didn't just fall; it disintegrated, melting into a pile of gray dust and ash that quickly scattered in the wind.
Its corrosive yellow eyes were the last things to vanish.
Silence descended, heavier than before.
Rhys immediately shifted back, his body slick with sweat and the Rogue's dark blood, his breathing ragged.
He looked at the patch of disturbed earth where the beast had been, then at me.
His eyes were no longer silver, but dark gray and filled with an almost terrifying respect.
Kain strode toward me, his blade dripping, and sheathed it without looking away from my face.
"Moonfire. Direct psychic incineration. Impressive." He didn't praise; he assessed.
"That," Crown said, grabbing my hand so hard I nearly flinched, "was the sound of the entire territory hearing the Moon Goddess's heir finally awaken." His voice was low, furious, and commanding.
"You are no longer safe. You are no longer in control. You are coming with us."
"There's no way I am following…."
Before I could protest, Rhys was already pulling his discarded clothing back on. He was all Alpha now, absolute authority in every gesture.
"There are others. Rogues, rival packs, the old guard—they will all smell that power. Your life is forfeit on common ground."
"You don't get a choice," Kain added, his hand gripping the back of my neck again, his touch now less erotic and more possessive.
"You are our mate. You are the Prophecy. You will come to the Palace."
••
The Alpha Palace was not a rustic manor; it was a fortress carved from obsidian and dark granite, sprawling across the highest mountain peak of the territory, looking down on Blackridge like a silent, powerful threat.
The Alphas drove me there in silent, agonizing tension.
They walked me through vast, echoing halls, past guards who snapped into instant bows, all of them—every single wolf—staring at me.
They weren't staring at the strange human woman; they were staring at the faint, silver sheen that I could now feel radiating from my skin, the Moonfire.
The dining hall was immense, dominated by a long table of polished black wood.
It was already set for a gathering of twenty or so people.
The air here was less wild and more concentrated—power, politics, and ancient lineage.
At the head of the table sat the King and Queen.
The King, a giant of a man with silver hair and eyes that were nearly black, was utterly silent. He didn't move.
He simply watched me with an intensity that made the hair on my arms rise.
The Queen, beautiful and severe, looked at me with open distaste.
The room fell quiet when the three of us entered.
"Sit," Crown commanded, gesturing to a seat directly across from the King.
I sat, acutely aware of the triple heat radiating from the Alphas who flanked me: Crown on my left, Kain on my right, and Rhys standing stiffly behind my chair.
The King finally spoke, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that hadn't been heard in the chapter:
"The triplets bring the human."
Triplets. I blinked. They looked nothing alike. Crown was regal, dark-haired, and possessed the bone circlet.
Kain was angular, red-eyed, and clearly the morally grey element. Rhys was solid, dependable, and possessed the calm strength.
The Queen cut in, her voice cold and aristocratic.
"She is not human, Father. She smells like a poorly cloaked deity. They are foolish to bring her here."
A sharp-featured woman with deep purple eyes, seated further down the table, gave a theatrical sigh.
This was the King's sister, Aunt Lydra.
"Foolish, perhaps, but necessary," Lydra drawled, examining me with a slow, appraising glance that felt predatory.
"The Mark of Three is upon her. She is the fabled Moon Goddess's Heir, destined to stabilize the line of succession." She clapped her hands together, the sound echoing sharply.
"The prophecy is fulfilled. Our three future Kings have claimed their single mate."
The announcement was met with a chorus of low growls and whispers of outrage from the surrounding table.
They knew. They all knew I was mated to three men—the very concept was an abomination to their societal norms, yet a requirement of their survival.
"A mate?" scoffed an older man two seats down.
"An orphan. A commoner. And a human—or so she appears—to bind the most powerful Alphas in history? An insult to the Bloodline."
"She carries the Moonfire," Rhys stated firmly, stepping forward to rest his hands on the back of my chair, a silent display of possessive defense. "That power supersedes lineage."
"Does it?" Aunt Lydra asked, her purple eyes glinting. She leaned forward, smiling with malicious sweetness.
"Then let her prove it. The scent of their bond is overwhelming, a blatant, intoxicating claim. But we have only heard claims. We have only seen a flash of light. How can we be certain she is truly claimed by all three, and not just the scent of one?"
She looked around the table, her eyes settling on a small group near her, whose eyes were strange—large, dark, and filled with a cold, slithering hunger.
Basilisks
I realized with a sickening jolt. Creatures who feed on the raw energy of high-intensity emotions, particularly those mixed with pleasure and humiliation.
"To finalize the bond and affirm the prophecy before this council," Lydra suggested, her voice rising to carry across the hall,
"let the Alphas claim her. In front of us all. Let them demonstrate the bond is real, raw, and unbreakable. If she is truly the heir, she will not falter. If she is a fraud, she will break."
A wave of assent rippled through the Basilisk group.
The rest of the pack members looked away, uncomfortable, but no one—not even the silent King—spoke out against the challenge.
They all wanted proof. And they all wanted to see the human commoner broken by the demands of their Alpha Princes.
I was paralyzed, the blood draining from my face. This was not the civilized dinner I had imagined. It was a public tribunal.
"Enough, Lydra," Rhys growled, his hands tightening on the chair.
But Kain's red eyes were already blazing. The Basilisk's energy was feeding his dark impulse.
He grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my head up and back until the tension in my neck was excruciating.
"She suggested a claiming," Kain murmured, his voice thick with a dark, primal need, ignoring Rhys's warning.
"And the bond demands it. We owe the court a spectacle, don't we, little one?"
Crown smiled, a slow, terrible smile that held no kindness, only possessive hunger. He leaned down and whispered hotly against my ear, his breath smelling of power and mountain air.
"You think you can run from us? You think you can hide what you are? You're ours, and tonight, everyone will know the cost of that claim."
Before I could summon a protest, Crown's hands were on me, tearing away the cheap diner dress.
The fabric ripped from collar to hem in a violent rush, the sound echoing sharply in the tense silence of the dining hall.
I was instantly exposed, bare skin meeting the cold, scrutinizing gaze of the entire Alpha court. Humiliation burned hotter than any sexual heat.
Kain's grip on my hair intensified, forcing my gaze to the room—to the Queen's icy disdain, the Basilisks' hungry, consuming eyes, the King's still silence.
This public exposure was the first, crushing blow.
Then, Rhys, abandoning his moral code for the demands of the bond, moved.
His massive body pressed against my back as his mouth slammed down onto mine. It was a deep, brutal kiss, meant to silence my shock, but the invasion only amplified the terror and the frantic needs of my body. It tasted of forced ownership, raw and desperate.
Simultaneously, Crown and Kain began their public, dominating claims.
Crown circled the table, his eyes locked with mine, and took my wrist—the wrist bearing the glowing silver crescent.
He brought the mark to his mouth, not for a kiss, but for a deep, suctioning pull. The act was deliberately sensual and violating.
A shock of electric agony shot up my arm, but the pain twisted instantly into a fierce, raw pleasure as the Moonfire surged out to meet his need.
My legs went weak, and I instinctively gripped the edge of the polished black table, my body arching against the combined weight and heat of the Alphas.
Kain, still holding my hair, leaned close and used his free hand to trace a line down my throat, over my collarbone, and then down to my breast.
His touch was scorching, possessive. He squeezed, hard, not tenderly, but as a brand of ownership.
"Look at them," he growled against my ear, his breath hot and demanding. "Look at who owns you now."
The sight of the court, the feeling of the Basilisk's icy greed feeding off the intense shame and spiraling arousal, became part of the experience.
It wasn't pleasure I felt, but a terrifying submission forced by the bond.
Rhys's body became a heavy anchor of possession, grounding me in the reality of the violation.
His hand moved from my waist to my inner thigh, the contact shockingly intimate, and the Alpha command in his touch was absolute: Yield.
His fingers were rough, seeking, and the instant he touched the point of my greatest need, a guttural sound tore from my throat.
It was the sound of the caged beast inside me finally submitting to the triple Alpha claim.
The three of them drove the Moonfire bond to its catastrophic peak, pushing me past the point of endurance, until the raw, psychic energy exploded in a blinding internal conflagration, feeding the Basilisks' hunger while simultaneously completing the claim.
I was claimed, humiliated, and utterly broken.
The Alphas finally stepped back, chests heaving, their eyes dark with a mix of primal
triumph, arousal, and self-disgust. The Basilisk eyes were dull now, their hunger sated.
I lay across the black table, shaking, exposed, and utterly devastated. I had been mated, claimed, and humiliated in a single, devastating act.
Rhys was the first to move, pulling a heavy velvet cloak from his chair and tossing it over my exposed body.
His eyes met mine, and there was a flicker of genuine remorse there, quickly overshadowed by his Alpha duty.
When it was finally over, and the three Alphas stepped back, their chests heaving, their eyes dark with a mix of triumph, arousal, and self-disgust, the room remained utterly silent. The Basilisk eyes were dull now, their hunger sated.
I lay across the black table, shaking, exposed, and utterly broken. I had been mated, claimed, and humiliated in a single, devastating act.
.
"Proof," Crown announced, his voice ringing with absolute, unchallenged authority. "The bond is real. The Moon Goddess's Heir is claimed."
I couldn't speak. I could only cling to the velvet, the heat of my shame making my cheeks burn.
Hours later, I was alone in a room that was less a bedroom and more a prison cell lined with silk. I had been cleaned, dressed in fine, unfamiliar cotton, and left.
I sat on the edge of the large, soft bed, staring into the dark. The humiliation was a raw wound, but beneath it, the Moonfire pulsed—stronger, more solidified.
A knock came at the door. I didn't answer.
The door opened anyway, revealing Kain.
His red eyes were dark, almost black, and his face was impassive. He walked straight into the room and locked the heavy door behind him.
"You performed," he said, his voice flat. He wasn't here for pleasure, but for business. "You gave them their proof. The King is satisfied, but the council is unsettled. You are not safe. Not even here."
He walked to the window, gazing out at the dark mountainside.
"What you felt tonight was just a taste of what the bond demands," he continued, not looking at me.
"The prophecy states that two of us will fall, but the third must survive to rule with you. The war for the throne has officially begun."
He turned back, his expression cold and calculating.
"I need to know what you saw. When you used the Moonfire to incinerate the Rogue, what did you see?"
I closed my eyes, remembering the Rogue Alpha turning to dust.
"I saw… nothing. Just the beast's fear. But I felt something else."
"What?"
"I felt the Basilisk eyes on me. And then I felt something that wasn't desire, and wasn't fear, but absolute power flow into me from those eyes."
Kain's impassiveness shattered. His eyes widened, truly shocked.
"Impossible," he breathed. "The Basilisk feeds on the energy released by the bond, it doesn't donate it."
He strode toward the bed, his predatory focus returning.
He grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand close to the lamp light. The silver crescent was glowing faintly, but beneath it, I could swear I saw a faint, new mark—dark, subtle, and shaped like a tiny, coiled serpent.
"The Basilisk Queen," Kain whispered, his voice laced with sudden, cold dread.
"She was feeding, but you were feeding back. The humiliation... the intense emotional trauma..."
He looked up at me, his face pale beneath the shadows.
"The emotional pain you suffered tonight didn't just solidify the mate bond. It created a dark conduit. They fed on your shame, but you took something far more dangerous from them in return. You have absorbed the power of the Basilisks, and you don't even know what you've unleashed."