The Kiss 

Chapter Four

The elder lowers his hands.

“It is done.”

A murmur spreads through the clearing, low and uneven, like the pack is exhaling all at once. The ceremony is over. The alliance is sealed.

And now comes the part everyone has been waiting for.

I feel it before I hear it—the shift in the air, the quiet tension tightening instead of loosening. Wolves lean forward. Eyes sharpen. Whispers rise, barely contained.

The Moonlight feels harsher now, like it’s exposing more than blessing.

Kael turns to me fully.

His hands are still wrapped around mine, warm, steady. His expression hasn’t changed—still calm, still respectful, still trying to make this as gentle as possible.

But the world doesn’t see gentleness.

The world sees a claim.

The elder’s voice carries again. “Seal your vows.”

My stomach drops.

Of course.

The kiss.

For a moment, the clearing feels smaller, the air thinner. I can feel hundreds of eyes crawling over my skin. Some curious. Some approving.

Some… not.

“She doesn’t look thrilled,” a voice mutters somewhere to my right.

“Nightwyn princess,” another says under their breath. “Let’s see if she can really belong here.”

My jaw tightens.

I don’t look toward the voices. I don’t give them the satisfaction. But the words land anyway, settling like stones in my chest.

Kael must hear it too.

His thumb brushes over my hand again, a quiet reassurance.

I lift my eyes to him.

He leans closer, slowly, giving me time. Giving me the choice to pull back.

He doesn’t rush me. Doesn’t grab. Doesn’t demand.

And somehow that makes this harder.

Because he deserves more than obligation.

The world holds its breath.

I lean in too.

The kiss is soft. Brief. Respectful.

Nothing like the dramatic claiming gestures I’ve seen at other pack ceremonies. No possessiveness. No display.

Just contact.

But the moment his lips touch mine, a wave of sound rolls through the clearing. Applause. Low howls of approval. Wolves marking the alliance as real.

And beneath it—

Discontent.

I hear it in the quiet scoff from somewhere in the Raventhorn crowd.

“He looks too gentle.”

“They gave him a political bride instead of a mate.”

“Let’s see if she’s strong enough to stand beside a Beta.”

Each word scrapes.

My cheeks burn, not from the kiss—but from the realization that I am being evaluated like an asset they aren’t sure will be worth the trade.

Kael pulls back, but his hands don’t leave mine.

He looks at me—not searching, not suspicious. Just steady.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly, low enough that only I can hear.

I nod.

Because what else can I do?

But the truth is, I feel like I’m standing in the center of a battlefield, not a wedding.

And I make a mistake.

I glance to the side and my eyes instantly find him.

Darian hasn’t moved.

He stands exactly where he did before, dark suit flawless, posture rigid, expression unreadable. The Moonlight catches in his grey eyes, but there’s no approval there.

No warmth.

Just distance.

And something else.

Assessment.

It feels like being weighed.

Measured.

Found lacking.

Heat floods my face, sharp and humiliating. I look away instantly.

Why do I care what he thinks?

Why does his opinion feel heavier than the crowd’s?

The elder gestures toward the gathered packs, beginning the formal declarations of unity, but the atmosphere has shifted. The alliance may be sealed, but acceptance is another thing entirely.

A group of Raventhorn warriors stand together near the front. One of them doesn’t bother lowering his voice.

“Let’s hope she’s stronger than she looks.”

My spine goes straight.

Kael’s hand tightens around mine.

And for the first time tonight, I feel something different from him.

Not gentleness.

Steel.

He turns his head slightly toward the voices, not fully, not confrontational—but enough.

Enough to make it clear he heard.

Enough to make it clear he disagrees.

Enough to make it clear I am under his protection now.

Something shifts in the crowd. Not silence—but caution.

I swallow.

This is what it means to marry into another pack.

Not warmth.

Not welcome.

Scrutiny.

Expectation.

Judgment.

The elder finishes speaking, declaring the formal unity of Nightwyn and Raventhorn lands. The crowd begins to move, tension breaking into motion, but the eyes on me don’t disappear.

They follow.

We step down from the altar together, hands still linked. My dress brushes the ground, heavy, unfamiliar. I feel exposed without knowing why.

Kael leans closer.

“Give them time,” he says quietly. “They’ll see.”

I nod again.

But I don’t know if I believe that.

Behind us, I feel it again—that steady, unmoving presence.

I don’t look back.

But I know Darian is still watching.

Not like the others.

Not judging my posture. Not measuring my strength.

Something else.

And that scares me more than the whispers ever could.

Because the pack might doubt me.

But the Alpha?

He already looks like he’s decided something about me.

And I don’t know what it is.