CHAPTER 4 – Claimed by the Beast[Part 1]

Sleep didn’t come.

I lay on the narrow servant’s pallet in the tiny room they finally locked me into, eyes wide open, staring at the cracks in the ceiling.

Every time I closed them, I saw Lucian’s face under the Moon—eyes silver, lips saying, "I reject this bond."

Every time I swallowed, I felt Kael’s thumb ghosting over my throat, his voice murmuring, *Once I mark you, no one will ever touch you again without bleeding for it.*

I didn’t know which memory hurt more.

By the time grey seeped into the sky, my body was lead, and my thoughts were frayed raw.

The door banged open at dawn.

“Up,” a maid snapped, already moving to strip my pallet. “We don’t have all morning. The Alpha of Blackthorn won’t want to wait for his new Luna.”

Her words hit like a slap.

Luna.

My throat tightened. “I’m not—”

“You will be in an hour,” she said briskly. “Move.”

They treated me like a task, not a bride.

I was hauled to a washing chamber, undressed with rough efficiency, dumped into a tub barely warmer than the air. Soap stung every cut and burn; I bit my lip and let them scrub until my skin smarted.

A different wolf might have screamed, scratched, and fought.

I just sat there and endured because that was what omegas were trained to do.

When they finally deemed me clean, they toweled me off and shoved me into a dress I didn’t recognize.

It was simple compared to Selene’s golden gown, but still finer than anything I’d ever worn: soft ivory fabric that clung to my ribs and hips, falling in a straight line to my ankles. No jewels, no elaborate embroidery. It's just a narrow sash of deep black silk at my waist—the Blackthorn colors.

My hair, usually braided out of the way, was left loose for once. It fell in damp waves down my back and over my shoulders. One of the maids made a face at the ends, which were uneven where I’d cut them with kitchen shears.

“Good enough,” she muttered. “He’s not marrying you for your fashion.”

She fastened a thin, plain silver chain around my neck. It lay cold over my collarbones, catching on the faint, still‑tender skin where the mark should have been.

When they finally stepped back, one of them frowned as if surprised.

Under the bruises, the burns, the exhaustion…I almost looked like a girl instead of a servant.

“Don’t get ideas,” she said, catching my expression. “He’s not your prince.”

No. He was something much, much worse.

They marched me through the palace in silence.

The grand hall had been cleared of last night’s feast and ceremony. Only a handful of high‑ranking wolves were present now: Rowan on his throne, Lucian at his side, Selene a little behind him, Nyra, a few betas and alphas.

And Kael.

He stood near the center of the hall, dressed in black again. Not full armor, this time—dark leather trousers, boots, a fitted black shirt rolled at the forearms, revealing corded muscle and old scars.

He looked even more dangerous out of metal.

My steps faltered when I saw him alone in that wide, empty space.

The guard behind me gave me a shove.

I stumbled forward.

Kael watched me come.

His gaze roamed from my bare feet to the hem of the ivory dress, up over my hands twisted in the silk sash to my throat and face. Nothing showed in his expression, but his eyes lingered a fraction of a second longer on the spot where the mark should be.

Nyra stepped up between us, hands folded.

“This will be brief,” she said softly, words meant for both of us. “The Moon has already bound you once. This is…an adjustment.”

Her jaw tightened on the last word.

Rowan’s voice boomed from the throne. “By the Goddess’s will and king’s decree, we bind Aria of the Moonfang Pack to Alpha Kael Draven of Blackthorn. Let the contracts speak.”

A scribe stepped forward with a parchment, reading something about alliance, bloodline, and compensation.

“Transferred.

In exchange for troops and support.

To be considered property of Blackthorn once the rite is complete.”

The words blurred in my mind, a more formal version of what I’d already heard: I was being sold.

Nyra’s voice cut through. “Alpha Kael. Do you accept this wolf as your mate before the Moon?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“I accept,” he said.

Nyra’s eyes flicked to me. “Aria.”

My mouth felt dry as dust. “Do I have a choice?”

Her gaze softened for the briefest second. “Not in this hall,” she murmured. Louder: “Do you accept this wolf as your mate before the Moon?”

Lucian watched me like a hawk, expression cold. Selene looked ill, fingers twisting in her skirt.

Rowan’s stare weighed heavy, daring me to defy him.

I thought of running. Of saying no. Of forcing them to drag me out, kicking and screaming.

I thought of being declared rogue, hunted, dragged back, or killed.

I thought of Kael’s words: *Monsters don’t bow to princes. Once I mark you…no one will ever touch you again without bleeding for it.*

My throat worked.

“I accept,” I whispered.

Nyra’s shoulders sagged the tiniest bit. Then she stepped back.

“Then seal it,” Rowan said. “We don’t have all day.”

Kael moved.

He walked up to me, each step measured. I wanted to step back, but my feet stayed rooted.

He stopped close enough that I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes.

Up close, his presence was suffocating: all smoke and pine and something wild coiled under his skin. The hall, the king, the prince—all seemed to fall away until there was only him.

“Look at me,” he said quietly.

I did.

His eyes weren’t soft. But they weren’t cruel either. Just very, very intent.

He lifted a hand and brushed my hair aside, exposing the side of my neck. The air felt cold on that bare skin.

“You know what comes next,” he murmured.

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He dipped his head.

His lips brushed the spot first, a hot whisper of breath and warmth that sent a strange little jolt through me. My fingers clenched in the fabric of my dress.

Then his teeth sank in.

It wasn’t gentle—but it wasn’t torture either. A sharp, decisive bite that pierced skin and sent a line of fire racing out from that point.

I gasped, breath catching.

The pain lasted only a moment. It was drowned almost immediately by a rush—heat, power, a weight settling around my shoulders like a cloak. A different thread snapped taut between us, darker and heavier than the one Lucian had given, then torn away.

Kael’s tongue stroked over the wound once, lapping away the blood, sealing the mark with warm wetness that made my knees wobble.

The bond surged.

It wasn’t the blinding, delicate silver of the first one. This felt like molten iron, hot and unyielding, anchoring me to him.

Voices rose in the hall.

“Done.”

“It’s done.”

“Kael Draven has a mate.”

Nyra lifted her voice. “By the Moon’s light and the blood shared, the bond is sealed.”

I heard a faint, pained inhale from the dais.

Lucian.

The marks binding mate‑threads didn’t disappear quietly. Whatever was left of the broken silver bond between us felt that new iron line snap over it.

For a heartbeat, something in my chest stuttered—two mismatched beats colliding—then the older echo recoiled, curling up and away, leaving the new one dominant.

Kael straightened.

My neck still tingled where his teeth had been. The skin throbbed, neither pure pain nor pure pleasure.

He glanced up at Rowan. “Satisfied?”

“For now,” the king said. “Take your Luna and return to Blackthorn. We’ll send the signed contract and agreed supplies after you. The realm expects your support when we call.”

Kael’s mouth twisted slightly. “Of course, brother.”

Lucian’s fingers dug into the rail of the dais. For a moment, his gaze locked with mine—cold, distant, but beneath that, something raw and furious.

I looked away first.

Kael turned back to me and, without warning, stooped.

One strong arm slid behind my knees, the other around my back. He lifted me easily, like I weighed nothing, cradling me against his chest.

I gasped, hands flying to clutch his shirt.

“Wh—what are you doing?” I hissed under my breath.

“Carrying my Luna,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“That’s not— You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said. “I want them to see.”

He raised his voice slightly. “Blackthorn’s Luna leaves with me now.”

Gasps flared around the hall. Some scandalized. Some were impressed. Some…relieved.

No one had ever carried me before.

Not like this. Not in front of everyone.

Lucian stared, knuckling bone‑white on the rail.

Selene’s eyes shone with unshed tears.

Rowan said nothing. His jaw was tight, but he didn’t object.

Kael carried me out through the great doors, past the servants who dropped into hurried bows, through the courtyard toward the waiting horses.

“Put me down,” I muttered once we were clear of the throne room, heat crawling up my face. “I can walk.”

“I know you can,” he said. “But they need to see you leave as mine, not their discarded problem limping away.”

His arms didn’t loosen.

Outside, three massive horses waited. Kael set me on one—an enormous black stallion with intelligent eyes and a temperamental snort—then swung up behind me in one fluid motion.

His body was heat and hard muscle at my back, one arm banded around my waist to hold the reins, the other braced on the pommel.

“Breathe,” he murmured near my ear when I went stiff. “You look like you’re about to be executed.”

“Aren’t I?” I said tightly.

He huffed what might have been a laugh. “You’d already been condemned the moment the Moon pointed at you.”

He clicked his tongue. The stallion surged forward.

The palace, the grove, the city began to fall away behind us as Kael rode out with a handful of his Blackthorn warriors. Wind tore at my hair, whipping it across my face. I squinted into the cold, tears tracking from the corners of my eyes.

My life, such as it had been, vanished behind us with every pounding hoofbeat.

There was no turning back.

***

By the time the sun crested the mountains, Blackthorn Keep filled the horizon.

It wasn’t pretty.

It was huge and dark, built into the side of the mountain like it had clawed its way out of the stone: high black walls, sharp‑angular towers, banners snapping in the wind—silver wolf heads on a field of black.

It looked like Kael: hard, scarred, dangerous.

As we rode through the massive gate, wolves turned to look.

Some bowed, fists to hearts. Others watched curiously. None looked surprised to see their Alpha carrying someone.

Their eyes slid over me: the dress, the mark on my neck, Kael’s arm around me.

“Alpha brought home a Luna.”

“About time.”

“She’s small.”

“Moon‑marked, though. Look at her neck—”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I ducked my head.

Kael dismounted first, then reached up and gripped my waist, lifting me down as if I weighed nothing.

His hand lingered an extra heartbeat before he let go.