Chapter one

ARABELLA POV

Nine times, I had reached into the Moonbond box. Nine times, I had drawn a blank token.

In three days, I would draw again—and if the Moon rejected me a tenth time, I would remain unmated forever.

Perhaps, that's why tonight, I was riding Adrian in my bedroom-my hips rolling in a rhythm I’d perfected over nine years of practice-just as he liked it. Adrian’s hands gripped my waist-firm, possessive, but mechanical. Like a dancer who knew the steps by heart but had forgotten the music.

I arched my back, letting my head fall forward so my hair cascaded around us like a curtain. His breath hitched, and I clung to that sound like a lifeline. There. He’s still here. He’s still with me.

But his eyes-those storm-gray eyes I’d loved since I was eighteen years old-were fixed somewhere over my shoulder. At the ceiling. At the window. Anywhere but me.

"Adrian,” I breathed, slowing my pace. “Adrian, look at me.”

He did. For a moment, the mask slipped, and I saw something flicker there. Guilt? Pity? I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t want to know.

"When are you going to marry me?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t ask. Not tonight. Not when he was finally here, finally touching me after three weeks of excuses and cancelled dinners.

Adrian’s rhythm faltered.

Only for a second.

Then he smiled-that easy, charming smile that had made me fall in love with him -and guided my hips back into motion.

"Not now, Bella,” he murmured. “We’re in the middle of something.”

"It’s been nine years, Adrian.” I pushed desperately, even as my body screamed at me to surrender to the rising tide of pleasure. “Nine years of this, of us. I’ve waited… I’ve waited so faithfully. Don’t you think it’s time we made it official? Don’t forget the Moon Choosing Ceremony is three days, and if your name doesn’t appear—”

"Shh.” He sat up, wrapping his arms around me and flipping our positions in one fluid motion. Now he was above me, his body covering mine, his lips finding my throat. “Let’s not ruin this with heavy talk, hmm?”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to scream. But his mouth was on my pulse point, and his hips were moving again, and my body-traitor that it was-responded without permission.

"Just... just tell me you love me,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please.”

He kissed me. Deep and consuming. And when he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with lust but empty of anything else.

"I’m here, aren’t I?” was all he said.

**

When he finished, he groaned against my shoulder and went still.

I held my breath, hoping he would stay.

Hoping he would pull me into his arms, whisper something against my hair, or tell me that I was more than a secret he visited when it suited him.

Instead, he pulled out. Slipped off the condom with quick, efficient movements and walked toward the bathroom without looking back.

A moment later, water began to run.

I lay on the bed, breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling he had been fixated on moments ago. The ceiling of my room, in my modest estate on the edge of the pack’s territory. Because of course I couldn’t stay at his residence. That was reserved for Celine, the girl the Moon favored.

Celine, who got to ride beside Adrian on his wolf.

Celine, who lived in his home.

Celine, who wore his mark on her wrist after every Moonbond Ceremony.

Celine, who drew his name while I drew nothing at all.

The ache in my chest was so familiar now I barely noticed it.

In the Blue Moon Pack, every she-wolf between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five was required to attend the sacred Moonbond Choosing. During the ceremony, each girl reached into the choosing box and drew a silver token.

If a male’s name appears on the token in glowing letters, she gets to ride on his wolf.

If the token remained blank, the Moon had rejected her.

A rejected female was permitted to attend the ceremony again the following year. But only until she turned twenty-six.

After that, the choosing ended forever.

For nine consecutive years, I had stood before the pack with my heart pounding and my hands trembling with hope.

Nine times, I had reached into the box.

Nine times, I had pulled out a blank token.

And nine times, I had watched Celine draw Adrian’s name.

The first time it happened, I had been eighteen and foolish enough to believe the Moon had made a mistake.

The second time, I had convinced myself that fate was testing me.

By the third, the pack had started laughing.

By the fifth, people had begun calling me desperate.

By the ninth, even the pity in their eyes had disappeared. They no longer thought I was unlucky. They thought I was pathetic.

The cruelest part was that Celine never seemed surprised when Adrian’s name appeared.

She would step forward in her beautiful gowns, dip her hand into the choosing box, and emerge with a silver token glowing between her fingers.

"Prince Adrian Ashford," the token would announce.

The crowd would cheer.

Adrian would smile.

And I would stand a few steps away with an empty token burning in my palm.

Celine was my younger sister, though we shared no blood. Her grandfather, the head of the Vales family, had taken me in when I was a child.

Nobody knew where I came from.

Nobody knew who my parents were.

Nobody knew why I had been abandoned.

The pack only knew that I had no bloodline, no family name, and no claim to anything important.

Celine, however, was a Vale.

The Vales were respected. Wealthy. Well connected.

She had grown up surrounded by silk, jewels, and admirers. I had grown up knowing that every kindness shown to me came with an invisible reminder that I did not truly belong.

Even now, I was technically the daughter of the pack’s beta family.

But adopted was never the same as born.

The pack made sure I remembered that.

Adrian was the only exception.

Or at least, I had believed he was.

Adrian was the Bluemoon pack prince, the golden heir, and the only man I’d ever loved. He’d never openly mocked me for being an orphan. He’d never called me nameless or unwanted. When others whispered that I was chasing above my station, Adrian would simply remain silent.

That silence had been enough to keep my hope alive.

I had interpreted his lack of cruelty as kindness.

His willingness to sleep with me as desire.

His refusal to reject me as love.

How humiliating.

The shower stopped.

A few minutes later, Adrian emerged, dressed and perfectly composed. He smelled of soap now, as though he had washed away every trace of me.

I watched him button his cuffs.

"Are you leaving?” I asked.

"I have an early meeting.”

"You could stay.”

His hand paused.

I held my breath.

"I can’t.”

"Is it because of Celine?”

His expression hardened. “Don’t start.”

"I only asked a question.”

"And I gave you an answer.”

"No, you gave me another excuse.”

His eyes finally met mine. “You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

I almost laughed.

More complicated?

I had loved him since I was eighteen. I had followed him through training grounds, festivals, council dinners, and pack celebrations. I had waited years for a single clear sign that I mattered to him.

Now I was twenty-five, and I still had nothing except stolen nights and unanswered questions.

Adrian reached for the door.

"Three days,” I said.

He stopped.

"The choosing is in three days.”

"I know.”

"If my token is blank again, it will be over for me.”

His shoulders remained stiff.

"I’ll be unmarried forever.”

"That’s not my problem, Arabella.”

The words struck with such force that I forgot how to breathe.

Adrian seemed to realize what he had said, because his expression shifted slightly. But he did not apologize.

He did not come back to me.

He simply opened the door and left.

I turned onto my side and curled my fingers into the sheets. My body still carried the warmth of him, but my heart felt cold.

I had promised myself that this year would be different.

This year, the Moon would reveal Adrian’s name.

It had to.

Because if it did not, I had no idea what would remain of me.

My phone rang.

I frowned, reaching for it. The screen showed an unknown number, no name attached. I hesitated, then answered, bringing it to my ear.

"Hello?”

"Is this Arabella Vale?”

A man’s voice spoke on the other end—deep, calm, and unlike anything I expected. He spoke to me with a respect I almost never received, not even from people I knew.

"Who is asking?”

"I need to speak with you.”

“About what?”

“About who you truly are.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“What does that mean?”

“I know your real identity,” he said. “And I know that you have a family.”

The world seemed to stop.

A family? I had spent my whole life knowing nothing but being the adopted child, the girl with no past, no roots. The idea that there was more… that I wasn’t just the unlucky, nameless girl everyone saw...it pulled me hard despite my doubt.

“Why should I belive you?” I said, voice shaky.

“Meet me,” he said, ignoring my questions.“Tomorrow at the Silver Birch Restaurant. Eleven in the morning.”

My first instinct was refusal. I didn’t know him. This could be a trick, or some cruel joke the others had cooked up to humiliate me again. “No,” I said firmly. “I have no reason to meet a stranger–“

“I understand your suspicion,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “But you need to hear this. You believe you are an orphan with no history… but that is not true. Arabella, you have a family and they are looking for you.”

I was still suspicious. This could still be a trap. But what if it wasn’t? What if he was telling the truth? What if knowing who I really was could change everything—even what the Moon had written for me?

“Fine,” I said finally, my voice trembling just a little. “I’ll come.”