The moon always looks different on ceremony nights.
Too close.
Too knowing.
Silver light spills over the courtyard of the Owlblood Pack's hall, turning the marble steps into a river of bone-white stone. Every ranked wolf in the territory is here, rows of black coats, gold jewelry, and whispered hunger. The air thrums with power and scent: dominance, excitement, fear. And somewhere in that storm stands me.
Lyra Hale. The girl the Moon Goddess matched to the Alpha.
My palms are slick inside the ceremonial gloves. The silk feels too fine for what's about to happen. Around my throat, the thin chain that marks an unclaimed mate feels suddenly heavier than iron.
At the front of the gathering, Alpha Kael Draven steps into the circle of moonlight. Even before he speaks, every wolf bows instinctively; his aura rolls across the courtyard like thunder. Broad shoulders, dark hair brushing the collar of his formal coat, eyes the color of frozen smoke. He looks carved from stone and just as distant.
I try to breathe through the bond, to steady the wild pulse that insists he's mine. But the pull tightens instead, tugging at my ribs, whispering that I belong to him whether I want to or not.
The Elder's voice echoes through the night.
"By the ancient rite of the Moon Goddess, we witness the joining of fated mates. Lyra Hale of the Owlblood, and Kael Draven, Alpha of…."
"Enough." Kael's voice slices clean through the ritual words.
Every head turns. The Elder's mouth hangs open. My heartbeat stumbles once, then races.
Kael looks at me really looks. The bond snaps taut, heat flashing through my skin. My wolf whines inside, reaching for him.
Then he speaks the words that end my world.
"I reject you, Lyra Hale. Before the Goddess, before my pack, before this moon, I reject the bond."
For a heartbeat, I don't understand.
Then the pain hits.
It isn't heartbreak; it's electricity. The mate bond twists inside me like something alive, screaming against what he's done. My knees buckle. Gasps ripple through the crowd. Someone murmurs that the Goddess herself will strike him down.
She doesn't.
He stands there unmoving, unflinching as I fall.
Hands grip my arms, helping me upright. My vision blurs, silver and black. I catch the scent of cedar and cold rain, his scent and it only makes the agony worse.
"Lyra," the Beta whispers, pity in his eyes. "Say the words. End it."
I can't. My throat won't work. The rejection is supposed to break the link, but the bond claws at me, desperate, furious. It refuses to die.
Kael turns away as if I'm nothing but a formality finished. "The ceremony is over."
"No," I choke, voice raw. "You can't…."
"I already have." His gaze flicks back to me, cold and perfect. "You were never meant to stand beside me. The bond is a mistake."
The pack parts as he walks past. No one meets my eyes. The air seems to drain from the courtyard.
When he's gone, I press a hand to my chest. The ache doesn't fade. It burns hotter, as though the rejection only trapped the bond instead of breaking it.
Somewhere deep inside, my wolf howls.
That night, I run.
Past the outer gates, past the carved stone arch where generations of Owlblood Alphas have sworn their vows, I run until the forest swallows me. Branches lash my arms, cold air tears at my lungs, but still the pull remains, Kael's scent trailing behind me like smoke.
The Goddess is cruel. She tied me to a man who wants nothing but freedom from me.
I stop by the riverbank, collapsing to my knees. The water mirrors the moon in shattered pieces. My reflection looks feral: eyes bright gold, lips trembling, veins lit with silver fire.
"Why didn't it break?" I whisper to the night.
The wind doesn't answer. But something else does.
A pulse, faint, unmistakable through the bond. A heartbeat that isn't mine.
Kael's.
He feels me.
Even now.
Days blur. I wander until the forest thins and the world beyond the pack's border begins, roads, human scents, distant lights. Each step away should make the bond weaker, but instead it tightens. When I close my eyes, I see him: the shape of his jaw in the moonlight, the way his power filled the courtyard.
Every heartbeat drags me back to that moment.
At night, the dreams start.
I'm in the hall again, the moon pouring through the glass roof, Kael's hands on my skin. The rejection fades; the bond takes over. His breath brushes my ear; his voice says my name like a promise he can't keep.
Lyra.
I wake gasping, drenched in sweat, body aching with need that isn't entirely my own.
The bond has turned feral.
A week later, the storm hits.
Thunder growls across the sky as I search for shelter near the northern cliffs. Rain soaks through my jacket. The forest hums with danger, but something else moves through it, something familiar. A scent of cedar and lightning.
Kael.
I should run the other way. Instead, my feet betray me, carrying me toward him.
Lightning flashes and there he is, standing on the ridge, soaked to the skin, eyes burning silver under the storm.
We don't speak. Words mean nothing when the bond screams louder.
He steps closer. The rain can't wash away his scent; it clings to me, heavy and intoxicating. Every instinct I have rises to meet his.
"You shouldn't be here," I manage, though my voice trembles.
"I could say the same." His jaw tightens. "The bond…."
"…won't die," I finish for him. My chest heaves. "You did this, Kael. You made it worse."
Lightning cracks again, and suddenly he's in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him. His hand lifts, fingers brushing a strand of wet hair from my face. The touch burns.
"I thought rejecting you would set us free," he says, voice low, raw. "Instead, I can't breathe without you."
The bond flares hot, blinding. I feel his pulse, his desire, his guilt. It's too much.
"Then stop fighting it," I whisper.
For a moment, I see the war in his eyes—the Alpha and the man tearing each other apart. Then the decision breaks him.
He pulls me against him, mouth crashing down on mine, the world vanishing in a surge of heat and thunder.
He doesn't hesitate. He grabs me, pressing me against his chest, and I feel the hard weight of him, every inch of him pressing, claiming. His mouth crashes down on mine, hungry, demanding, and I moan, nails digging into his shoulders. His hands roam with ruthless intent gripping my ass, sliding under my shirt, cupping, kneading, teasing. I arch into him, every touch setting fire through me.
His lips trail down my neck, biting, sucking, leaving marks that sting deliciously. "You're mine," he growls into my ear, and I shiver violently. I can feel his pulse against my cheek, his desire pressing into me, raw and unrelenting.
He pushes me down onto the wet earth, hands steady, commanding. One of his hands slides under me, pressing, teasing, and I gasp, trembling, arching my hips into him as he moves over me. Every slow, hard thrust drives me wild, and I cry out, voice lost in the storm. His mouth finds mine again, teeth grazing, tongue claiming, biting, marking. I feel myself shatter piece by piece under him.
He bites my shoulder, teeth sinking just enough to leave a trail of fire, marking me as his. "Mine," he growls, over and over, and I can't stop whimpering, can't stop clinging, can't stop needing him. Every thrust, every brush of his hands, every low, rough growl sends me higher, untethered, completely his.
The storm rages above us, but the storm inside me is louder. I moan, scream, tremble, and when I finally come, it's with him buried deep inside me, holding me, filling me, claiming me in every way. My cries are mingled with his low groans, our bodies slick with rain and sweat, tangled in raw, unbroken need.
When it's over, he collapses against me, chest heaving, arm tightening around me in possession before he pulls back slightly, jaw hard, eyes stormy.
When the storm finally fades, we lie tangled on the forest floor, the air heavy with rain and regret. His arm tightens around me once, then he pulls away, expression carved from stone again.
"This changes nothing," he says quietly. "I still rejected you."
The bond hums between us like a live wire. I know he's lying. I can feel the truth beating in his chest.
Maybe the ceremony ended that night but something else was born in its place. Something wild. Something that refuses to die.
I turn from him, wrapping my torn cloak tighter around me. "Then may the Goddess damn us both," I whisper.
Behind me, Kael doesn't answer. But when I walk away, I feel his gaze like claws on my skin.
The bond pulls once more painful, desperate and then snaps back into silence.
For now.