001. THE PROPOSAL

AYLA

Ayla lay helpless in bed, her soft moans rising in the dark as something wet, skilled, and sinful moved between her thighs. She arched into the touch, her body burning with need. A man’s tongue danced deeper, tracing slow circles over her most sensitive place. Her hands clutched his hair, gripping as if it were the only anchor in a world spinning with desire.

He chuckled, low, dark, primal. The sound of a wolf savoring his prey.

Her breath quickened. Heat built deep in her core, coiling like lightning before a storm. Her legs trembled, her toes curled, and her body tightened as if pulled taut by invisible threads. Her heart thundered in her chest.

And then, she shattered.

A cry tore from her lips as liquid heat spilled from her, waves of pleasure crashing through her body. The man drank from her like a starved beast at a sacred spring, the tips of his silver hair brushing her inner thighs. His glowing eyes gleamed like twin moons.

He rose slowly from between her legs, towering over her like a god descending from the heavens. Her dream-self lay stunned beneath him, chest heaving, barely had time to look up. When her gaze landed on him fully.

She gasped.

The length between his legs… no, it wasn’t possible. Thick, pulsing, terrifyingly large.

He reached for her hips.

He was going to…

“No!”

She screamed.

And then, she woke up.

Ayla bolted upright in her bed, her breath catching as if she’d surfaced from deep water. Her skin was drenched in sweat. Her nightgown was drenched with sweat. Her pulse throbbed at her throat, wild and shaken.

“What was that?” she whispered into the silence, her voice raw.

She pressed trembling fingers to her burning cheeks. Her inner thighs were damp with proof of what had just happened, of what her body had experienced in sleep. Her lips parted as realization hit.

She had never felt anything like that before.

Never imagined it could feel… like that.

She shook her head, pulling herself from the memory. That was not real. Dreams meant nothing. And besides, she had no time to think about pleasure. Not in this house. Not in this life.

She moved quickly to the bathroom, stripping off her nightgown and stepping into the warm water in the wooden bath. She lowered herself into it. The water soothed her skin, but not her soul. The strange ache in her chest remained.

Something felt… off.

Like the dream wasn’t just a dream. Like something, or someone, had touched her through it.

She ignored the thought, dressed simply in her long white healer’s robes, braided her long golden hair, grabbed her bag of herbs and tinctures, and stepped out of her room.

But before she could reach the stairs, a voice echoed below.

“Ayla.”

Her feet froze.

Her father.

He never called her by name unless something was wrong.

She steadied her breath. “Yes, Father?”

“Come to the parlor.”

She hesitated.

Her wolf, Maya, stirred inside her. “Be careful.”

“Always,” she replied silently, then began her descent.

The parlor was bright, golden morning light streaming through tall windows. Dust danced in the rays, drifting like lazy fireflies. Her father sat in his favorite chair, cloaked in authority and exhaustion. On either side of him, Selene and Maggie lounged like painted dolls, both dressed in powder blue silk. They looked like blooming orchids, fragrant, fragile, and false.

Their smiles were sweet.

Too sweet.

Ayla’s grip tightened on her healer’s satchel. That kind of smile had never been meant for her.

“Come, sit,” her father gestured to the empty chair beside him.

She didn’t move. “I prefer to stand.”

His expression didn’t change, but the tension in the room changed, dense and suffocating.

“I need a favor,” he said.

Her eyebrows lifted. He never asked for favors.

“If someone’s ill, I’ll help,” she said cautiously. “That’s my duty.”

He gave a bitter chuckle. Even Selene let out a cruel little laugh behind her hand.

“No,” he said. “This is… different.”

He looked away, toward the hearth, though no fire burned there.

“Our pack is dying, Ayla. The harvest failed. Rogues have attacked our caravans. We owe more gold than we can ever repay. I’ve tried everything, deals, alliances, begging neighboring alphas. Nothing worked.”

His voice lowered. “But one offer remains.”

Her heart began to race again.

“What offer?”

“The Sea Moon Kingdom,” he said. “They’ve promised protection. Food. Trade. Gold enough to save us.”

Ayla frowned. “Why would they offer that… for nothing?”

He met her gaze. “They seek a bride for the Alpha King.”

Her breath caught.

“And they want one of my daughters.”

The world stilled.

She looked at Selene, beautiful and proud. Maggie, graceful and soft-spoken.

Her lips parted. “Then why am I here?”

Her father looked at Selene.

“They chose Selene. But she… declined.”

Ayla’s fists clenched at her sides.

Selene’s smile gleamed. “I told Father you’d be a better match.”

“You offered me?” Ayla’s voice trembled.

“You’re kind,” Selene said sweetly. “Quiet. Not as pretty, but sweet. The perfect wife for a king.”

Her wolf snarled inside her. She wants you gone.

“Why not Maggie?” Ayla snapped.

“She’s engaged,” her father said simply, brushing it off like dust.

Ayla took a step back. “So you decided to give me away?”

He leaned forward. “You could be a healer queen. You could help more people than you ever imagined. And save us all.”

Her voice cracked. “None of you would do it. But you’ll send the daughter you barely look at?”

His face hardened. “They’ll arrive in two days. If you refuse, we lose everything.”

She stared at him, her father, who had never once praised her, never shown her affection, now asking her to sacrifice herself like livestock at the altar.

Her body still ached with the memory of that dream. Her lips parted.

“Then start preparing to lose.”

She turned to leave.

“Think carefully, Ayla,” Selene called, her voice sing-song and sharp. “The Alpha King of the Sea Moon Kingdom doesn’t take rejection lightly.”

Ayla didn’t answer. She pushed open the front door, stepping into the warm morning air.

The sky above was cloudless, a pale blue canvas stretching toward infinity. Birds called in the trees. The wind carried the scent of pine and old magic.

But she barely noticed it.

Her heart still beat too fast.

And as she stared into the distance, one thought whispered through her mind:

If the dream meant anything…

Could it be tied to this?