Pain. Searing, all-consuming pain is the first thing that registers as I drift back to consciousness. My eyelids feel heavy as I force them open, taking in the stark white walls that seem to close in around me. The sharp smell of disinfectant burns my nostrils, making my already churning stomach flip. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a harsh glow across the standard-issue cream curtains and medical equipment surrounding my bed.
I'm alive. The thought hits me like a physical blow. The memories of the attack flash through my mind in violent bursts – claws, teeth, blood. So much blood. By some miracle, I survived, but as I try to shift in the scratchy hospital gown, every muscle screams in protest.
The steady beeping of monitors fills the silence as I strain to make sense of my surroundings. This isn't our pack hospital – the layout is wrong, the equipment too advanced, even the air feels different. Unfamiliar voices drift through the closed door, their muffled conversation setting me on edge. My heart rate spikes when the door opens, revealing two people: a doctor in crisp white coat and – my breath catches in my throat – him. My mate.
Time seems to stop as I truly see him for the first time. The chaos of earlier had hidden just how devastating his beauty is. Piercing blue eyes, the color of a winter sky, meet mine for a brief moment before darting away. His raven-black hair is a mess, as if he's been running his hands through it for hours, and the sharp line of his jaw could cut glass. He's wearing what must be Alpha clothing – dark, tailored pants and a black button-down with rolled sleeves that showcase muscular forearms. Everything about him screams power, from his rigid posture to the way he positions himself near the door, like he's planning his escape.
The doctor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and graying hair pulled back in a neat bun, approaches my bed. "Hello dear, how are you feeling?"
I lift my hands to sign 'I'm in pain,' but the doctor's confused expression tells me what I already feared – she doesn't understand sign language. Frustration wells up inside me as I look between her and my mate, hoping he'll translate. He stands there, stone-faced, refusing to meet my eyes.
"Can you speak, dear?" the doctor asks, her brow furrowing with concern.
I shake my head no, my hands moving to explain that I'm mute, but again, the signs mean nothing to her. The familiar feeling of isolation creeps in – the same feeling I get whenever I'm around people who can't understand me.
My mate finally speaks, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine despite its coldness. "She's mute. She uses sign language." He still won't look at me, his eyes fixed on some point above my head.
"Oh, I see," the doctor says, looking flustered. She holds out a notepad and pen. "Here, you can write down your responses."
My hands are shaking so badly I can barely grip the pen, but I manage to write: 'Elizabeth Smith, Dark Moon Pack. Where am I?'
The doctor reads my note, then exchanges a glance with my mate before turning back to me. "You're in the Alpha King's territory, honey. We need to contact your Alpha about your whereabouts."
The news hits me like a physical blow. The Alpha King's territory? My hands move rapidly in distress, signing 'How did I get here?' even though I know the doctor can't understand.
"I brought you," my mate says flatly, finally translating my question. He stands rigid by the door, as if he can't bear to be in the same room with me. The rejection in his stance makes my chest ache worse than my injuries.
Tears prick at my eyes as I think of home. My hands move frantically as I sign 'My mom must be worried sick about me.' The thought of Mom, and even Chloe, not knowing if I'm alive or dead makes my heart clench. Kevin's face flashes through my mind – my ex-boyfriend probably celebrating my disappearance with his new girlfriend. The betrayal still feels fresh, and combined with everything else, it's almost too much to bear.
My mate watches my signs with an unreadable expression before translating in that same cold voice.
"You're not going anywhere," the doctor says firmly, noticing my agitation.
I grab the notepad again, scribbling quickly: 'Please let me contact my mom. Let her know I'm okay.'
"I'll inform your pack Alpha," my mate says abruptly. "He can tell your mother." Without waiting for a response, he turns and strides out, taking his overwhelming presence with him. I didn't even get his name. The cold formality of his words feels like ice in my veins – why does he seem to hate me so much?
The doctor watches him leave with an unreadable expression before turning back to me. "Get some rest now. If you need anything, press this button." She indicates a call button within easy reach. "Someone will come right away."
I nod, too exhausted and frustrated to try writing anything else. She dims the lights before leaving, and in the sudden quiet, I'm left alone with my thoughts, the steady beep of monitors, and the growing certainty that my life has changed forever – I just don't know if it's for better or worse.
***
Two weeks have crawled by since I first woke in this hospital, and I haven't seen my mate once. The rejection stings, a constant ache worse than my healing injuries. Eva, my wolf, works tirelessly to heal the wounds, but the process is agonizingly slow. The deep gashes have only just begun to fade into pink scars that spider across my skin.
Finally, after fourteen days of staring at these suffocating white walls, I'm leaving. The jeans and white T-shirt the nurse brought feel like freedom after endless days in scratchy hospital gowns. My hands smooth over the soft cotton as I take one last look at the room that's been my prison.
When I step into the hallway, a man is waiting. He's handsome in a approachable way – warm brown eyes and an easy smile, sandy hair styled casually. He carries himself with authority, but it's different from the overwhelming power my mate exuded during his brief visit.
'Hello,' he signs fluently, surprising me. 'I'm Dante, but please call me Dan. I'm His Majesty's Beta.' His signing is natural, comfortable, like he's been doing it for years.
Relief floods through me at finding someone who can understand me. My hands move quickly as I respond, 'I'm Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Liz.'
Why would the Alpha King send his Beta to take me home? Maybe there's some political alliance between our packs I don't know about. The thought provides little comfort.
'Do you have everything?' Dan signs, glancing around.
'Nothing to take,' I respond with a wry smile. 'I didn't exactly pack for this trip.'
'Let's get you home then.' He heads for the door, and I follow, hope bubbling in my chest. Home. Mom's warm hugs, Chloe's infectious laughter, my own bed – I've missed it all so much it hurts.
But instead of heading to a car, Dan leads me down several blocks. The Alpha King's territory is stunning – streets lined with blooming cherry trees, sprawling mansions with perfectly manicured lawns, everything screaming wealth and power. People stop and stare as we pass, their gazes making my skin crawl. Some whisper behind their hands, others bow their heads slightly. I touch my scars self-consciously, but something tells me that's not why they're staring.
We stop at a massive mansion, its stone facade gleaming in the afternoon sun. Confusion twists in my gut as Dan heads for the front door.
'Excuse me,' I sign rapidly, 'why are we here?'
Dan's brow furrows. "I brought you home, like I said," he speaks aloud this time, watching my reaction.
My hands fly in agitated movements. 'This isn't home. I thought you were taking me back to my pack.'
"Why would I do that?"
'Because that's where I live!'
"This is your new home."
'I don't want a new home!' My signs become sharper, more forceful. 'I want to go back to my life, my family!'
"You don't have a choice." His voice is gentle but firm.
'Why not?' My hands shake as I sign.
"You're mated to the Alpha King."
The world tilts sideways. My hands freeze mid-sign. 'What did you just say?'
"You're the Alpha King's mate."
'That's impossible.' But even as I sign it, pieces start falling into place – the overwhelming power he radiated, the way people defer to Dan, the whispers and stares.
Dan watches my realization dawn. "I think you know it's possible. You just don't want to accept it."
'Of course I don't!' My movements are almost violent now. 'He's the Alpha King! The most feared wolf in existence! The stories about him...' My hands falter as memories of terrifying tales surface.
"I know you've heard stories about his ruthlessness," Dan signs, switching back to my preferred communication, his movements gentle and reassuring. "But he would never hurt you. You're his mate."
'I've heard stories about him hurting women.' My hands tremble as I form the signs.
"All lies," Dan signs firmly. "Our Alpha King might be cruel to his enemies, but he would never harm a woman, especially not his mate."
'You're sure?' The sign comes out small, uncertain.
"I guarantee it." His signs are strong, confident.
Some of the tension leaves my shoulders. 'Okay.'
"Now," Dan signs with a hint of humor, "let's get you inside before you catch cold. I'd rather not lose my head to an overprotective Alpha King."
My eyes widen in alarm, but Dan's grin tells me he's joking. At least, I think he's joking. As he opens the heavy wooden door, I can't help wondering what other surprises await me in this new life I never asked for.
***
After Dan's tour of what's supposedly my new home, I'm left alone in the Alpha King's mansion. The elegant two-story building should feel welcoming with its warm wood accents and plush furnishings, but instead, it feels like a beautiful cage. Moonlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the imported rugs and antique furniture. Every surface gleams with wealth and power, yet there's a coldness to it all – like a museum where nothing's meant to be touched.
I still don't even know my mate's name. Growing up in human schools meant no werewolf history classes, and though he looks a few years older than me, I doubt they would have covered current pack politics anyway. All I know are the whispered stories of his ruthlessness, each one more terrifying than the last.
The grandfather clock in the corner strikes midnight, its deep chimes echoing through the empty house. I've been perched on the edge of an expensive leather couch in the living room for hours, my stomach in knots. Eva paces restlessly in my mind, sensing my anxiety.
Then I catch it – his scent. The rich, intoxicating mixture of pine needles, winter air, and something uniquely him fills my senses. My heart pounds as I rise from the couch, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floors as I move toward the entrance.
He appears in the doorway like a dark angel, his presence filling the space completely. My hands lift to sign 'Hello' as I try to smile, hoping to ease the tension I can feel radiating from him.
His blue eyes, usually so striking, are like chips of ice as they land on me. "What are you doing awake?" The words cut through the air like a whip.
My fingers tremble as I sign, 'I was waiting for you.' My smile falters under his cold stare.
"Why would you wait for me? Do you need something?" Each word drips with disdain.
'No,' I sign, my movements becoming smaller, more uncertain. 'I just thought... as mates...'
"Your mate," he interrupts with a laugh that holds no warmth. The sound echoes off the walls, making me flinch.
'Yes,' I sign, though my confidence is crumbling. 'You are my mate.'
He stalks toward me, each step deliberate, predatory. I back up until I feel the cool wall behind me. "Yes, I am. But that does not mean I see you as my mate."
'What do you mean?' My hands shake so badly I can barely form the signs.
His face is inches from mine now, his breath fanning across my face as he snarls each word. "Let me tell you something. Being mates means nothing. I don't believe in mates, never will, never have."
The bond between us pulses with his rage, each word a physical blow. Eva whimpers in our mind, feeling the rejection deep in our soul. Tears blur my vision as I stare up at him, this beautiful, terrifying man the Moon Goddess chose for me. The same man I'd planned to reject before I knew who he was, before his presence became as necessary as breathing.
My hands move in a desperate question: 'Are you rejecting me?'
He leans closer, his scent overwhelming me, his eyes boring into mine. "No. I'm not." A cruel smile twists his perfect lips. "But you're going to wish I had."
The words hang in the air between us like poison. As he turns and strides away, leaving me trembling against the wall, I realize with crushing clarity – the stories weren't wrong about his cruelty. They just never mentioned he could break someone without laying a finger on them.
