Sherry's POV

The Alpha house was too loud.

That was my first thought every year at the Moon Festival. The festival was always mandatory, a display of pack unity like they said, but to me, it was just hundreds of werewolves crammed into one space, their energy and scents making my head throb. I was the Alpha's daughter, Sherry, yet I felt so out of place like I didn’t belong here.

I had found my usual safe space. The space by the library entrance where the lights weren’t reaching. It was close to a snack table, which provided a social shield. I didn’t have to move around much.

My dress, a shimmering blue thing my mother insisted upon, felt heavy and scratchy. I hated the color blue, yet I was forced to act like it made me pretty and graceful. Instead, it just felt like a spotlight. The dress caught every single stray light beam making people look at me, every now and then.

Every time I shifted my weight, I felt exposed. I shouldn’t feel this way. I was supposed to be confident, graceful, a suitable prospect for a future Luna. Instead, I just felt awkward.

“You look like you’re waiting for a doctor’s appointment, Sherry.”

My breath hitched. My mother, Camilla.

I turned slowly. “Mother, I’m just taking a moment.”

She didn't look pleased. 

Her own dress was perfect, her posture flawless. “A moment that has lasted forty minutes. Beta Eric is across the room. He would have noticed you hadn’t move. You are not here to hide. You are here to interact. To establish yourself.”

My stomach tightened. Eric. Even the mention of his name made my pulse quicken in a stressful, irritating way.

“He’s busy,” I muttered.

“Everyone is busy. But Eric is the Beta. He’s the most important bachelor here. He will be Viktor’s right hand. You need to be seen in his vicinity.”

Before I could sink into the usual spiral of self-doubt, Viktor arrived, his presence instantly grounding me. He placed his warm, heavy hand on my shoulder. 

“Mother, give her a break,” Viktor said, his voice less heavy than hers. “She’s not a show pony. Go mingle. I need to talk to Sherry about the patrol schedules for tomorrow.”

It was a lie, but it worked. Camilla gave me a look of pure exasperation but moved away, going back to the same group she had walked away from.

I let out the breath I had been holding. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he squeezed my shoulder. “Just try to look less like you’re actively planning an escape. It’s too obvious.”

I knew he was right, but my eyes were already drawn, as they always were, across the vast room. And they were on him.

Eric Thorne.

He was the opposite of me in every way that mattered. He wasn't just in the room; he owned the room. He was tall, powerfully built, and his tailored suit did nothing to hide the easy confidence of a top-tier wolf. His dark hair was messy, and his amber eyes shone when he laughed.

He was currently talking to a small group near the fireplace, one arm resting casually on the mantel. He was magnetic. He was flirting, he was serious, he was laughing again—he was effortless. He reeked of authority, of being completely in control of his world.

I watched him. That was what I usually did. I watched him engage with everyone else. Right now, he was leaned in, focusing all his energy on a vibrant, red-headed girl named Lilah. She giggled, touching his arm, and Eric responded with a direct, appreciative look.

It was just a confirmation: he was wild, confident, social. I was timid, bookish, quiet. We existed on opposite planes of reality and I felt the familiar, dull ache of being perpetually out of place.

Viktor followed my gaze. “He’s too much for you, Sher. Too much noise. Too much attention. You don’t need that kind of hassle. Just ignore him.”

I didn’t argue. I had already decided that for myself years ago.

Then, Eric finished his conversation. He stood up straight, his gaze sweeping the room. It was a quick check, an assessment of the room.

And then his eyes stopped.

They landed on my hidden corner. On me.

I froze. The background noise of the party seemed to drop out. His look wasn't flirty or kind; it was just an acknowledgement. Then, to my dismay, he started walking toward us.

“He’s coming over,” I hissed at Viktor, gripping my glass.

“So what? He’s the acting Beta, I’m the acting Alpha. We have to talk,” Viktor whispered back, though his stance shifted slightly, becoming less casual.

Eric approached. Up close, he was overwhelming. The heat from his body, the scent of smoke and cedar, the sheer force of his presence—it was all too much for my small corner.

He stopped a foot away, his smile turning warm and genuine. “Viktor. Good. I was hoping to steal a word. How are you enjoying the mandatory fun, Sherry? Still preferring the written word to the spoken, I assume?”

My cheeks burned. “I’m fine, thank you, Eric.” My voice was shaky.

He chuckled. The sound was deep and rich. “The diplomat. Listen, Viktor, the Beta training schedules need a quick review before next week’s shift. Can we meet tomorrow? I’ll send you the final drafts tonight.”

“Sounds good. But I wanted to talk to you about the eastern patrol path, actually. We had a problem with the new drone surveillance—” Viktor was instantly immersed in the discussion, turning his focus entirely on Eric.

I took a grateful step back, hoping to disappear. I watched them talk, two powerful men discussing powerful things. As Viktor leaned forward to emphasize a point about the map grid, Eric shifted to keep the conversation private.

He moved an inch closer to me.

The velvet lining of his suit jacket brushed lightly against the bare skin of my arm.

A white-hot, agonizingly powerful electrical surge slammed into my chest, radiating out through every nerve ending. My breath vaporized. The sound of the party—the music, the chatter, the clink of glasses was instantly overpowered by silence.

I wasn’t just hit; I felt my very soul being ripped open and fused to his. The overwhelming scent of him—primal, essential, mine engulfed me, drowning every other sensation. A dizzying wave of terrifying rightness washed over me, a relief so profound it felt like ecstasy. This was the truth, the only truth, and it hurt with the violence of its arrival.

My body involuntarily spasmed, a sharp, choked gasp escaping my throat.

Eric froze.

His conversation died. The arm that had casually been near mine was now twitching, millimeters away and his entire frame went rigid. He was staring at me, his amber eyes wide, pupils blown out to black, reflecting the exact same blinding terror and ecstasy that was consuming me. His confident mask was shattered and he was breathing in short, desperate bursts.

He searched my face, and I searched his, neither of us capable of movement, pinned by the force connecting us.

The word was not a thought; it was an instinct and a painful whisper torn from my lungs.

“Mate.”