Three days had passed quicker than I ever expected, and now I was seated in my room, staring at my own reflection. All dolled up. All perfect according to my mother's command as she controlled everything.
Every piece I wore, from my earrings to the soles of my shoes, had been handpicked by her. And as much as I hated to admit it, she had a good eye. The dress was beautiful, elegant, even comfortable… yet every stitch felt like a warning and a reminder that I waa to become a Luna to someone I had never met.
This was it. I was going to get married.
The car ride felt like a blur. We drove through the night, the road lit with streetlights that looked like falling stars, guiding me toward the place where my future waited.
As I began to walk down the aisle, my hand subconsciously gripped my father's arm. The guests present were no more than thirty, most of them faces I recognized...people my mother had insisted on inviting. Their whispers faded into the background as my pulse grew louder in my ears.
My gaze lifted, eager to know the man I was about to marry, to see if he was old, ugly, or, God forbid...fat. But the man waiting for me was none of those.
And when his eyes met mine, recognition slammed into me so hard I almost stumbled. My breath caught in my throat.
It was him.
The man from the club.
His black hair looked as though he had run a hand through it carelessly, yet it fell in a way that made him look effortlessly sharp. His suit was tailored perfectly, hugging broad shoulders and a lean frame with an ease that screamed confidence. Tattoos curled just above the collar of his shirt, teasing at skin I knew I shouldn't be staring at.
But it was his eyes that held me still dark, dangerous, the kind of eyes that warned you to stay away even as they pulled you in. Eyes I had not been able to forget since that night.
And now, here he stood. My husband-to-be.
We finally reached the altar, and my father placed my hand into the man's bigger, steadier hand that clasped mine with a quiet dominance. Even beneath the veil, my nerves roared through me, every breath shallow, every heartbeat louder than the last.
The priest cleared his throat, his voice carrying easily through the small gathering. "We are gathered here tonight to witness the joining of these two souls in marriage." His words were ceremonial, rehearsed, but they made my spine straighten anyway.
The vows were exchanged, simple but binding. When it was his turn to speak, his voice was low and deep, carrying with it a command that made the fine hairs at the back of my neck rise.
Then, his hand lifted. With slow deliberation, he brushed the veil back from my face, revealing me fully to him, and for the briefest moment, the entire world fell silent. His eyes burned into mine, unreadable, and I forgot how to breathe.
The rings came next. His fingers slid the band onto mine. I did the same for him, though my hands trembled as I tried to steady the simple gold circle on his finger.
The priest smiled, almost warmly. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
My palms were damp, and he knew it—he hadn't let go of my hand. My heart spiked as he leaned down toward me, lips close enough that I felt the heat of his breath. I braced myself for the inevitable kiss, but instead, he tilted just slightly, his mouth brushing my cheek instead.
His whisper was meant for me alone. "You might be pretty, but you are not the type of woman I'd ever love to kiss," he murmured, his tone smooth.
The sting was immediate, sharp enough to lodge in my chest. I had thought...naively_ that recognizing him, remembering his small act of unexpected kindness three days ago, meant something. That maybe this wouldn't be a prison, but a chance. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.
But it seemed I was a fool.
He leaned back, angelic smile gracing his lips, as though he had just sealed his vows with a kiss. To the guests, it looked perfect. To me, it felt like a warning.
Why would he say that to me? Why was he even marrying me?
After our marriage was officially sealed on paper, we walked down the aisle as a couple now. The guests rose to their feet, watching us with eyes that weighed and measured, as though I was an offering laid at the Alpha's feet.
Unlike human weddings, werewolf unions were never followed by grand feasts or lingering celebrations. Once vows were spoken, the couple was left alone—to bond, to mark, to claim. But there would be nothing to claim here. Nothing to celebrate. Not in this farce of a marriage.
We were not even mates. And while he was Alpha of the largest and most powerful pack I was nothing more than the daughter of a family with no leadership, no real standing in our own pack.
I forced a smile, looping my hand gently around his arm as we walked past the rows of watching faces. Yet beneath the veil of music and soft clapping, whispers threaded through the air.
"Such a waste of power… the Alpha deserved better."
"Look at her—pretty face, but no wolf. She'll never stand at his side in battle."
"She's no less to a human. How can a Luna lead when she can't even shift?"
The words sliced deeper than they should have. I had heard them endlessly before, but today, on the day I was bound to a man I barely knew, they struck like claws across my heart. To them, I was unworthy—not fit to walk beside an Alpha, not strong enough to bear his weight, not wolf enough to be his mate.