Lorelei POV
The second I was born, they labeled me a curse.
"Hold her down."
My twin sister, Callista, loomed above me with a knife glinting in her fist, pure hatred burning in the green eyes we shared.
"What do you think you're doing?" I managed to say, the words scraping out of my throat despite the two guards pinning my arms and legs to the cold stone floor.
Before I could blink, her palm cracked across my cheek. My head snapped to the side, and my vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall.
"You don't speak until I permit you," she hissed, leaning so close I could smell the jasmine perfume she always wore. "Everyone keeps whispering how alike we look. I'm just fixing that little problem."
But how could we not look alike? We were mirror images. The same pale blonde hair spilling like liquid moonlight. The same emerald eyes that should have meant sisterhood instead of this nightmare. Our faces were identical… except hers was flawless, pampered like the Beta daughter she was born to be, while mine was gaunt, hidden beneath dirt and rags, thinned down like the slave I had grown into.
Her lips curled into something vicious. Suddenly, she fisted my hair, yanking my head back so hard my scalp burned.
"First, the hair," she said.
Before I could twist away or beg, the cold steel of the blade bit into a thin strand at my nape. Then another. And another. I watched in horror as my long strands — one of the few features that could never be hidden — fell to the stone floor around me. I watched as they pooled at my knees like something dead.
When the last long strand dropped, she stepped back, admiring her work like an artist.
"There," Callista purred, twirling the knife. "Now no one will mistake you for me ever again. You're just the cursed runt. The thing they should have drowned at birth. But that face…"
Her expression darkened again, and a shiver ran down my spine as she stepped closer.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Callista, please—"
"Shut up," she hissed, pressing the edge of the blade to my cheekbone, right where our dimples would match if she had ever smiled at me without cruelty. "I hate you."
I forced my eyes shut, bracing myself for what was coming.
"What's going on here?"
A male voice cut through the tension, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps.
I recognized it instantly.
Jaxen.
Relief loosened something tight in my chest as I opened my eyes to find him standing in front of us.
At that, Callista turned to him, her expression shifting seamlessly into the smile she wore whenever she needed to charm her way out of trouble.
"Jaxen," she purred, gracefully tucking a strand of her flawless blonde hair behind her ear. "I was just teaching the servant a little lesson. You know how she is. Always causing trouble."
"With a knife to her face?" Jaxen pointed out.
Her expression flickered for a fraction of a second before smoothing out again.
"She's a maid," she repeated, tightening her grip on the knife. "Don't tell me you're siding with a servant."
"I'm not," Jaxen quickly corrected, his eyes darting toward me for a brief second before returning to Callista. He stepped closer to her, placing one hand on her shoulder while the other gently pried the knife from her grasp, forcing her fingers open until the blade slipped into his palm. "But even maids have limits. Pack law says no permanent disfigurement without council approval. You know that."
At that, Callista's smile returned. She leaned into Jaxen's touch in a way that made my chest tighten with a pain far sharper than the blade ever could.
"You're right, of course," she said softly, lowering her lashes in perfect imitation of remorse. "I let my temper get the better of me. I'm sorry."
Jaxen nodded once, then stepped back, breaking contact. "Go to the Great Hall. Your father is looking for you. I'll deal with this."
Callista's eyes brightened, triumph flashing before she could hide it. "Of course," she purred, smoothing her dress with graceful hands. She tossed her perfect blonde waves over one shoulder and glided toward the door as if nothing had happened.
"You two, leave us," Jaxen added to the guards.
They exchanged a quick glance, then released me completely. They bowed their heads and backed out, slamming the heavy door shut behind them.
Now it was just the two of us.
Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet, brushing the jagged strands of my cut hair from my damp skin and ragged dress. Loose pieces clung to me like proof of what had just happened.
"I look hideous, don't I?" I muttered, my voice smaller than I meant it to be.
I felt painfully aware of him standing there, watching me with that unreadable expression. I couldn't see my reflection, but with how brutally Callista had hacked at it, I knew the uneven chunks had to look ridiculous. Like a broken doll someone had tried to repair with a dull blade.
"It's just hair. It'll grow back."
Jaxen finally spoke, stepping forward and closing the distance until he stood right in front of me.
I searched his face for any hint that he was lying, but his blue eyes softened almost instantly. Those eyes.
Jaxen Reed. Six feet of lean muscle. Dark hair that fell just messy enough to make him look dangerous. And those piercing blue eyes that had haunted me for years. Not only was he the Alpha's son and heir to the Silver Fang pack, he was also my mate.
The one I felt the second I turned eighteen.
The one who felt it even stronger. So strong he could barely stand to be in the same room with me without his control slipping.
For over two years, we had pretended to be strangers. Strangers in front of the pack. Strangers in front of Callista. Strangers even when we were alone.
Because my parents had suppressed my wolf to "protect" Callista, the bond felt weaker on my end. Just a faint tug in my chest, easy to ignore if I forced myself to.
But he had always been kind to me, even before we knew. Small things. A look. A word. A hand steadying me when no one else bothered.
And because of that, I had let myself believe, just for a second, that maybe the Moon Goddess hadn't completely abandoned me.
Without hesitation, Jaxen's hand wrapped around the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in the jagged remains of my hair. He pulled me toward him hard, crashing his mouth down on mine, kissing me like he was starving.
Because he had been. The last time we'd been this close was over two months ago.
I gasped into his mouth, and he deepened the kiss. My hands flew to his chest, curling into his shirt and dragging him closer as the bond roared to life inside me.
Heat coiled low in my belly. Even without my wolf, I felt it. The pull. The need. The way my skin burned everywhere he touched.
He groaned, his hand sliding under my thighs and gripping hard as he lifted me like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, and he pinned me against the wall, slowly grinding his hips so I could feel exactly how hard he was for me.
A broken sound left my throat.
Then his mouth left mine, trailing down my jaw to my throat. When his lips reached the place meant for the mate mark, his fangs grazed my skin.
I tilted my head back, baring my neck completely, every cell in my body screaming yes.
Two years. I had wanted his mark for two years. Needed it. Needed to belong to someone who actually saw me.
But then he froze.
His fangs hovered, trembling against my skin.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling back just enough to look at me.
His hands cupped my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones like I was something fragile he might shatter.
I exhaled slowly, feeling the fire inside me turn cold.
"Your coronation is in two months," I said, my voice cracking despite how hard I tried to steady it. "What difference would it make if you marked me now?"
"Two months," he repeated, clenching and unclenching his jaw. "When I become Alpha, I'll rewrite the laws that keep you in this dirt. I'll mark you in front of the entire pack. No one will be able to deny it. No one will dare challenge you. You'll stand beside me as Luna. Not as a secret. Not as a maid. Not as the cursed twin. As mine."
His words hit like a promise wrapped in barbed wire. Beautiful. Painful. Everything I'd ever dreamed of — and everything I was terrified I'd never have.
"Two months," I repeated, but this time it was barely more than a whisper to myself.