LOGINSkye’s POV
I still couldn’t believe it. Damian is my mate. I am his mate. Even now, hours after the bond snapped into place like a cruel joke from the Moon Goddess herself, the words felt like smoke in my mouth—too unreal, too impossible to shape into truth. It sounded like a lie every time I whispered it to myself, like some fever dream dreamt up by a desperate girl who’d spent too many nights wondering what it would feel like to matter. I sat curled in the farthest corner of my room, knees pulled to my chest, fingers tangled in the sleeves of my oversized hoodie. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding. My wolf wouldn’t stop pacing. And my thoughts—goddess, they were spiraling like a storm with no end in sight. Because how could he be mine? The same Damian who never spared me more than a passing glance during training. He was always at the front, commanding attention with his brutal strength, his sharp eyes, his perfectly controlled movements. Every trainee watched him and idolized him while I lingered in the shadows, bruised and ignored, just another weakling omega no one wanted to spar with. The same Damian who let people overlook me. I was invisible to most of the pack, and he had never once stopped it. Not when they pushed past me in the dining hall, not when they snickered behind my back, not even when I was knocked down during combat drills and left to get up on my own. He had seen it. I know he had. He was the Alpha’s son. He saw everything. He chose to ignore it. And now… he was mine? Or worse… I was his? The bond felt heavy in my chest, like a chain I hadn’t asked for. My wolf whimpered every time I tried to push the thought away. She wanted him. She ached for him. But me? I didn’t even know how to feel. Confused. Angry. Ashamed for wanting someone who had never once made me feel like I belonged. The Moon Goddess must be cruel. Twisted, even. She waited until I finally felt strong and felt free to tie me to the one person who had always reminded me of my place. Out of every male in the pack and every soul in this world—why him? He looked at me like I was a problem. Like the very idea of being tied to me offended him. And maybe it did. I was an orphaned omega, pack charity. I had no rank, no name worth mentioning. Nothing to offer an Alpha but my blood and my bond. He didn’t say anything that night. He didn’t have to. His silence was enough. I stumbled back to my cabin after the run, pretending I hadn’t felt it. Pretending that the pull inside me wasn’t screaming to be closer to him. That my body hadn’t burned with the need to touch him, to belong to him. It was humiliating. Because I’d dreamed of having a mate like anyone else. Someone who saw me. Who chose me—not because of rank, or strength, or duty but because of who I was. Someone who would wipe away the years of being overlooked and whispered about and laughed at. I was curled in the farthest corner of my room, knees drawn tight to my chest, sleeves of my hoodie stretched over my hands. The fabric still smelled like old soap and pine—the only comfort I had left as my heart threatened to crack open inside my ribs. My wolf, Lyra, wouldn’t stop pacing. She pushed against my skin like she wanted out again, like she still hadn’t accepted that the run was over. But for me, the storm hadn’t ended. It had just begun. How could he be mine? Damian Wolfe. The Alpha's son. The future of the pack. The same boy who walked through the world like it owed him something and somehow always gave it. I remembered him standing by the fire, gold Alpha mark glowing under his collar, laughter spilling from his mouth like power itself. The whole world tilted around him, and he didn’t even notice. He was everything I wasn’t. And he had never noticed me. He never spared me more than a glance during training. Never offered a hand when I was knocked down. Never told the others to stop when they whispered omega mutt behind my back. He stood there while they shoved past me in the dining hall, looked the other way when I limped off the sparring mat, bloody and humiliated. He had eyes like a hawk—sharp, all-seeing. I know he saw it. He just didn’t care. “And now… I was his?” I mumbled softly and bit my lower lip to stop myself from thinking the impossible. I wanted to scream. To cry. To demand answers from a Moon Goddess I wasn’t sure even listened. Because if Damian was my mate, then what did that mean for me? Would he reject me? Would he claim me out of obligation? Or worse, would he mark me and keep me hidden away—his dirty little secret the pack wasn’t allowed to talk about? No. I couldn’t live like that. I couldn’t survive being bound to someone who made me feel like nothing. A knock sounded at the door, sharp and purposeful. My wolf stirred, immediately alert. I didn’t have to ask who it was. I could feel him just outside. His presence pressed against the bond like a pressure in my ribs. Damian. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Another knock. “Skye,” his voice came through, low and rough. Just hearing it made my stomach twist into anxious knots. “Open the door.” I stayed silent. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d go away. Maybe if I pretended none of this was real, the bond would dissolve and I could go back to being invisible. But I knew better. “Skye,” he said again, softer this time. "Please."The castle had always been filled with warmth and laughter, but this time it buzzed with an entirely new kind of energy. The twin daughters of King Damian and Queen Skye were about to enter the Royal Academy. It was the very place where the heirs of noble houses were trained in leadership, combat, history, and the fine arts of ruling.Luna and Sol were born only minutes apart, but their personalities could not have been more different. Sol, the eldest by a breath, was bold and spirited, the kind of girl who walked with her chin lifted and her eyes gleaming with confidence. She had inherited Damian’s sharp gaze and Skye’s stubbornness, a combination that made her naturally magnetic to anyone around her. Wherever Sol went, chatter followed.Luna, on the other hand, was her mirror in appearance yet opposite in spirit. She was quiet, reserved, and far more content to stay in the background. She often hid behind Sol’s shoulder in social gatherings, speaking only when spoken to. Her shyness
Dorian's POVThe academy had become like a second home to me. Its stone walls and tall towers looked intimidating from the outside, but inside, it was alive with chatter, footsteps, and the smell of ink and parchment. By now, almost everyone knew my name. Not because of my family or title—though being Damian’s son carried its own weight—but because I had made a reputation for myself. I was always at the top of the class. The professors loved me, the students either admired me or envied me, and I carried myself with the quiet confidence that came from years of discipline.Still, none of it really mattered to me. The praises, the stares, the whispers that followed me down the hallways—I took them all in stride. I was my father’s son, yes, but I didn’t want to live in his shadow. I wanted to make my own mark, to succeed in my own way.That was my world. Neat, organized, predictable. Until she walked in.It happened on an ordinary morning, during Combat Strategies. I had taken my usual se
Skye’s POVThe castle never felt like mine in the beginning. When I first stepped into its vast halls—stone walls rising higher than the eye could see, chandeliers dripping with golden firelight, corridors stretching endlessly like rivers carved from marble—I felt small, almost like an intruder in a life that wasn’t meant for me. I was an orphan once, an omega shunned by the pack, called weak, fragile, unworthy of belonging. Yet here I stood now, Queen of the Lycans, wife to the King whose very name inspired awe and dread—Damian Velaris.But over time, the cold grandeur of the castle softened. The walls no longer loomed; they embraced. The echo of footsteps down the halls was no longer lonely—it was filled with laughter, with tiny feet scampering, with the music of a family built from love. Now, when I walked these polished floors, I didn’t feel small. I felt rooted, like the stones themselves recognized me.Every morning began the same way: sunlight spilling through the high-arched w
Damian’s POVEver since we were children, I’ve loved Skye.The first time I saw her is burned into my memory as clearly as the scar across my palm. My father carried her into our home one stormy evening, a bundle of torn blankets in his arms. She was so small, so fragile-looking, her hair tangled and damp, her lips pale. The scent of fear clung to her like smoke, so sharp it made my wolf restless.But it was her eyes that caught me. Wide, dark, searching. Not the eyes of a child who had lived safely, but of someone who had been running far too long. A cornered creature that expected the world to strike again at any moment.I later learned her parents had left her to die in the woods. My father’s patrol found her half-frozen, her breath shallow, a trembling shadow of what a pup should be.That night, as thunder cracked and rain beat against the windows, I sat in the hallway outside the chamber where they laid her down to rest. I couldn’t explain it then—I was too young—but something sh
Skye's POVThe morning of my coronation dawned with a silence so heavy it almost pressed down on me. The sun rose like molten gold over Crescent Valley, casting its light across the palace spires, making them shimmer as though the heavens themselves blessed this day. Yet, despite the brilliance outside, my heart thudded wildly, my breath uneven.After my father passed away, everything in my life shifted. His absence was a wound that would never fully heal, an emptiness in my chest that no crown, no ceremony, no power could ever fill. But grief had not come alone—it carried with it the weight of duty, the chains of responsibility he left behind. As his only heir, I was next in line to ascend to the throne.The thought still felt surreal.Me—the girl everyone once called “omega.” The outcast no one wanted near. The one who had been mocked, shunned, pushed aside, told I would never matter.And yet, today, I was about to be crowned Lycan Queen.Even saying it in my head made me dizzy.Dam
Skye's POVAfter Eva and Ethan’s visit, the garden slowly returned to its natural stillness. The laughter faded like the soft settling of petals, and only the sound of the wind rustling through the hedges remained. The tea had gone cold on the table, untouched after all the excitement. The sun had started to dip lower, casting long shadows across the white stone paths.Damian and I were left alone, just the two of us—and our Dorian.The garden was more than just a space to me. It was my sanctuary. I was the one who designed its layout, chose each flower bed, and insisted on planting the crescent moon blossoms around the marble fountain. It felt like a piece of me lived in every corner of it. Sometimes I’d wander here when my thoughts grew heavy or when Dorian’s endless energy wore me down. It had become our family’s safe place.We walked hand in hand beneath the canopy of blooming vines, the scent of lavender and fresh earth lingering in the air. Dorian was a few steps ahead of us, hi
I didn’t even remember how my back ended up pressed to the cold wall of Damian’s room — or maybe it wasn’t his room. Maybe this was just another corner of the house he owned… or controlled.All I knew was that his hands were there. On me. Around me.My breath caught the second his lips crashed into
Skye’s POVThe first thing I noticed when I woke up was the silence.Not the usual, faint hum of maids moving about the hallways or the clinking of dishes from the kitchen — just… silence. My head was pounding from last night, the taste of regret and something far more dangerous still lingering on
Skye’s POVI was furious. Not the playful kind of mad where you pout until you’re given chocolate. No — this was the kind of anger that simmered in your gut, hot and poisonous, until you couldn’t think of anything else.Damian hadn’t said a single word to me all day. Not after what happened last ni
Skye’s POVI woke to the faint warmth of sunlight spilling through Damian’s curtains, the kind of light that made dust motes dance lazily in the air. For a moment, I didn’t move. My cheek rested against the pillow that smelled like him—woodsy and faintly smoky, as if the forest clung to him even in







