Chapter 5: Taken By The Beast

**Eirian's Pov**

They gave me one final night.

One night in my small, cramped, childhood room, with its cracked ceiling and the window that never shut properly.

By sunrise, preparations were already underway. Women came carrying fabric, needles, and thread. Elder Cormain sent a written list of instructions for the ceremony.

My mother moved around the house with efficiency, looking every bit like a woman preparing for a celebration, rather than the actual truth, she was selling off her youngest daughter.

She never once knocked on my door.

I sat on my bed, still wearing the blue dress from the night before, and listened to the pack waking outside as voices drifted in from the open window.

"How long do you think she'll last?”

I froze, my ears pricking to catch every word.

"Three months, maybe. You know Lycan Vorath Kane doesn't keep things he has no use for."

A man's voice answered. "I heard his last political bride was found dead in the Northern Woods. They said she tried to escape."

"Can you blame her?" another voice laughed. "He once wiped out an entire council because they questioned one of his decisions."

“The omega can’t even speak. Imagine being trapped in that fortress, alone with a beast like him, and unable to scream for help.”

They laughed it off casually. I couldn't take it anymore, I crossed the room on shaky legs and slammed the window shut. But the stories didn't stop; they followed me all through the day. The women preparing my dress for the ceremony spoke loudly outside my door.

According to them, Vorath Kane had broken a man's spine with his bare hands for crossing into his territory without permission. He had stripped three noble families of power and scattered them to distant settlements for failing to pay tribute.

One woman claimed his fortress was cold and lifeless, filled with stone walls and endless silence. Another said he had never found a real mate because no woman had ever been strong enough to survive his standards.

The hardest part wasn't what they said. It was why they said it. They weren't trying to scare me. They simply didn't care whether I heard.

My feelings didn't matter.

By afternoon, the pressure inside me had become unbearable. I needed somewhere private where I could fall apart.

I slipped out from the back door and headed for the narrow stretch of woodland behind our fence. I used to hide there as a child whenever home became too overwhelming. I sat down at the base of an old ash tree, buried my face in my knees, and released everything I had been holding together.

It wasn't exactly crying; it felt larger than that. Heavier. A shaking that racked my whole body, my shoulders jerking in short waves, my throat burning with silent sounds I refused to release.

I mourned for the bond that had torn open in my chest the night before and hadn't finished hurting. I mourned the parents who never truly loved me and had handed me over without hesitation and relief on their faces. I mourned the nineteen years of being unwanted, invisible, and cursed.

For one fleeting moment under the full moon, the Goddess had made me believe I had finally found happiness, but then she had taken it away and delivered me to a monster who would probably kill me.

I cried until there was nothing left and the shaking ceased. I just sat there with wet cheeks and dirt on my dress.

"I thought I'd find you here."

I looked up, my heart skipping a beat, only to see Lirien, bending to sit beside me.

She was the baker's daughter. The only person in the pack who had never treated me like a disease. For years, she had simply talked to me as though I was normal. She was the only one who saw me.

She pulled a blade of grass from the ground, twirling it between her fingers for a while without saying anything.

"Are you scared?" she asked, gently nudging my shoulder.

I pursed my lips and nodded.

“That’s understandable,” she whispered. “I’d be terrified too.” She offered a small, sad smile. "My grandmother says most of the stories about the Lycan King are exaggerated. She says powerful men make people nervous, and nervous people turn rumors into legends."

I stared idly at the trees. Her words helped a little, just not enough.

“I know it’s not much,” she added, squeezing my hand. “But it’s what I’ve got.”

She stayed with me until sunset. When someone called from the house, she wrapped her arms around me. The hug was brief but fierce, and I didn’t realise how much I needed it until now. No one ever hugged me.

"Whatever he turns out to be," she whispered against my hair, "You're still you. Don't forget who you are."

Then she was gone. I sat there for a little longer before finally returning home.

***

The ceremony was nothing like the mating ceremony. It was held in a small altar room inside the courthouse with a handful of required witnesses. Everyone looked like they were eager for it to be over.

My parents stood near the entrance like distant strangers. Elder Cormain presided over the ceremony as Vorath waited at the altar in the same dark coat he had worn the night before. His expression revealed nothing.

I walked toward him alone with no company, crossed the stone floor in a badly sewn dress that didn't fit properly, and stayed beside the Lycan King, focusing on the candle flame burning on the altar because it was easier than looking at him.

Elder Cormain began reciting the binding vows.

Then Vorath faced me and stretched his huge hand towards me, palm upward. I hesitated for a brief moment before placing my trembling hands in his as his fingers closed around mine.

At once, a sudden pulse ran through me. It was a strange sensation that raced from my palm up my arm and into my chest, almost as if another heartbeat was moving beneath my skin.

My breath caught in my throat.

Across from me, Vorath froze. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but I felt it. He had sensed it too. His grip didn't tighten or loosen, but somehow his attention sharpened, as if every part of him had suddenly become alert.

Mate.

The voice returned. The same voice that had spoken before, the one buried deep inside me. My hand trembled, shaking like a leaf, just as the candle flame leaped higher, twice its normal size, before settling.

Elder Cormain faltered mid-sentence.

My gaze dropped to my arm as warmth spread from my wrist to my elbow. A glowing mark was beginning to appear on the inside of my forearm, a crescent-shaped symbol forming in soft silver light.

The sacred marriage mark.

I turned sharply toward Vorath. The same symbol was appearing on his arm, line by line, burning itself into his skin.

For the first time since I met him, Vorath actually reacted. He stared at the mark on his arm and snapped his gaze to mine. This was the first hint of emotion I've seen him display as his mask of indifference slipped.

His golden eyes widened.

In that moment, real terror seized me.

How could this even happen?

I had not just been handed over to a beast; my soul had been bound to him.

Why did the Moon Goddess hate me so much?