Chapter 7

Gideon’s POV

The car tires rumbled along the loose gravel as the road leading to Silvermoon narrowed, meandering through a dense forest on either side. Even now, in broad daylight this close to a pack border, the scent of rogues filled the air. I could see shining eyes blinking in the shadows, too afraid to approach the Alpha’s vehicle, but always there, always watching.

“The rogues here are bold,” my Beta, Tegan, said in a low voice. His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “And there are many of them.”

Yes. That was precisely the problem.

Last night had been a blur, but there were still parts I remembered. I recalled drinking at the inn along the road with Tegan—we were a little more than halfway to Silvermoon, stopping for the night to rest before the last leg of the journey. I’d been a quarter of the way through my third whiskey when I suddenly felt it.

That… pull.

I’d recognized it the moment it happened. My mate was on the other side of that silver thread, and I didn’t hesitate. In wolf form, I’d raced through the forest at breakneck speeds until I found her.

She was surrounded by rogues, calling for help through a bond that hadn’t fully formed. And when I’d chased them off, she’d kissed me and offered herself to me, right there on a slab of cold stone beneath the blue light of the rare moon.

I couldn’t help myself. The rest was a haze. I vaguely recalled making love, the soft flesh of her neck giving way beneath my fangs like a ripe apple. She’d tasted sweet, so sweet, and the moment the bond snapped into place, everything suddenly felt… right.

The thing was, I couldn’t recall anything about her appearance. Her face was a blur, my vision a haze from the effects the moon had on the fresh mate bond. I’d been part animal then, and it was all muddled now.

All I remembered was her silver hair cascading across the stone as I’d pulled her into my arms.

Silver. Even brighter than the moon. Like the Goddess herself.

I’d gotten the mindlink in the wee hours of the morning, before any sane male would be awake.

My potential fiancee was dead.

The woman I was supposed to take from Silvermoon as my wife had died mysteriously in her sleep. No cause of death could be discerned by the pack coroner. My Beta broke the news.

I should have woken the woman. I should have taken her with me. But there was a moment, as I looked down at that silver head of hair in the early morning light, her face turned away from me, that fear overtook all logic.

Because if I brought her with me…

What would the curse do to her?

I told myself that I would find her again. Once I took a Silvermoon bride and broke the curse. Then, and only then, could I safely seek out my fated one and bring her to live with me in Nightwolf.

That was ,assuming she still wanted to be with the Wife Killer.

That was what they called me. As if I’d had any hand in all of the women I was supposed to marry suddenly dying in their beds, just like the last one.

I never had anything to do with it. Hell, I’d tried to stop it. But that was the Demonblood curse; powerful and ancient, and only able to be broken by a Silvermoon bride.

It was an ancient pact between our two packs; in order to keep the family curse at bay, my ancestors held up a marriage agreement between Silvermoon and Nightwolf. During the wedding ceremony between the packs, the Silvermoon priestesses would cleanse the curse, keeping it at bay for another generation.

But things changed over centuries. Silvermoon and Nightwolf grew distant, too focused on their own politics to remember the pact. The tradition died out, and now here I was, the third Nightwolf Alpha in a row to suffer the effects of the curse. My father and grandfather had both died from it in the end. It was a miracle I had been born at all.

So now, here I was, driving to Silvermoon in search of a bride. Alpha Ryan had agreed to the pact; Silvermoon was in dire times due to the declining territory and the heightened rogue population in the area. Nightwolf was still strong and large. It was a simple exchange; a woman to break the curse for resources and protection.

I didn’t want it. Especially not now that I knew I had a fated one out there, somewhere, perhaps in danger amongst the rogues. But the pack elders insisted; Nightwolf couldn’t lose another Alpha. My pack needed me, and that was the most important thing right now, even if marrying another she-wolf (one who probably hated me already just on reputation alone) felt like betraying the silver-haired woman I’d only gotten to spend one night with.

But I told myself that I would just fulfill the marriage agreement. That was it. My heart belonged to my mate. Once the curse was broken, I would divorce whichever she-wolf married me—assuming she mate it to the wedding day—and search for the silver-haired woman.

That was the decision I made as the road carried us up toward the Alpha house, where a crowd had gathered.

The pack was even smaller than I expected, a smattering of run-down houses and buildings scattered haphazardly across a small hillside. The Alpha house at the top of the hill was the only redeeming feature of the pack; a large brick building that had clearly been kept up perfectly while the houses around it crumbled and needed fresh coats of paint.

Alpha Ryan was exactly who I pictured. Tall, handsome, young, but there was something about him that made my wolf snarl. I wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, and I didn’t care to find out.

Tegan put the car in park, and I got out. The entire pack had gathered, it seemed.

I recalled last night being close to this territory, so I sniffed the air, scanning the crowd as I approached the Alpha. I didn’t see the silver-haired woman anywhere, nor did I scent her on the air. Perhaps she wasn’t a part of this pack after all. But what would she have been doing so close to their territory?

“Alpha Gideon.” Ryan spread his arms wide, smiling as he walked down the path toward me. He clasped my hand in both of his and shook it firmly. “I’m so glad you finally made it.” He lowered his voice a little. “Don’t worry. The situation with your previously promised bride is being quietly handled. I’ll discuss it with you in private.”

“Glady,” I said, following him as he began walking me toward the house. A hundred or so eyes followed us, the entire pack utterly silent. Off to the side, I saw a group of what I assumed to be slaves—a tradition that was outlawed in most packs but apparently alive and well here in Silvermoon—standing huddled together.

“Of course,” Ryan was saying, his hand on my shoulder, “any she-wolf would be honored to marry an Alpha such as yourself, and you are welcome to choose any that catches your eye—”

“Ryan!”

A woman suddenly pushed through the crowd of slaves, limping, wearing a tattered blue dress. It looked like it was once beautiful, but now muddy and ruined. A cut was still bleeding above her brow.

Alpha Ryan ignored her entirely, although I caught the way his shoulders tensed just a little as we passed.

“Ignore her,” he said. “She’s just a slave.”

“Ryan!” She repeated. “Ryan, please—”

Her words died the moment I whipped my head around to look at her. All the other Omegas and slaves averted their gazes, as was expected of those in their rank. But she lifted her chin and met my gaze steadily, without deferring.

For a moment, I swore her hair glinted silver in the light. Just for a second. But it was enough to make me stop in my tracks and stare.

Could this woman be my mate?