ログインCiara had one job: secure her engagement to the Alpha's heir. She failed. Rejected at the mating ball and left to freeze in the snow by her own father, she's saved by the last person she expected—Draven Stormclaw, the notorious bastard son everyone fears. His price for her rescue? Marriage. He claims he wants the scandal. A way to humiliate the brother who cast her aside. But the way he looks at her—the careful touches, the fierce protection, the warmth hidden beneath his cold reputation—tells a different story. As Ciara is pulled deeper into Draven's dangerous world, she begins to suspect he's hiding something. That his reasons for saving her run far deeper than revenge. But with her eighteenth birthday approaching—the day she'll finally sense her true mate—time is running out for secrets. Because some bonds are written in the stars. And some are forged in snow and desperation.
もっと見るCiara's POVMy face burned where his hand had connected. The skin felt hot, swollen, throbbing with each heartbeat. "You will learn—" my father snarled above me.Something inside me snapped.All the frustration I had been holding in for days—for years—rushed through me like wildfire. The rejection. The snow. The way he spoke about my mother today, using her memory as a weapon while defending the woman who had tried to erase her.It felt as if fire was rushing through my veins, hot and wild and unstoppable.My wolf surged forward.I had always kept her contained, controlled, obedient. A proper lady did not let her wolf take over. A future Luna maintained composure at all times.But I was not a future Luna anymore.And I was done being obedient.The shift tore through me. Bones cracked and reformed. Fur erupted across my skin. My vision sharpened, colors bleeding away into shades of gray as my wolf's senses took over.I lunged.My father froze, his fist still raised in the air. He had
DRAVEN'S POVAn hour prior.The Alpha's study smelled of old leather and older pride. I stood before my father's desk with my hands clasped behind my back, the picture of filial respect. It was a role I played well when necessary—the dutiful bastard son, grateful for whatever scraps of acknowledgment fell from the legitimate heir's table."Father," I said, inclining my head. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."Alpha Gareth Stormclaw looked up from the documents scattered across his desk. Even at his age, he cut an imposing figure—broad-shouldered, silver-haired, with the same black eyes that had marked both his sons. Those eyes studied me now with the wary calculation of a man who had learned long ago that nothing I did was without purpose."Draven." He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight. "It has been some time since you requested a private audience. What brings you here?""Curiosity, mostly." I moved to the window, looking out over the pack
Ciara's POVHis eyebrows rose. "Just like that?""Just like that." I held his gaze, refusing to let him see how my hands trembled beneath the sheets. "You want to marry me. I need protection. It seems a fair exchange.""Fair." He tasted the word like wine, his eyes never leaving mine. "How remarkably pragmatic of you. And here I thought you might require more convincing. Perhaps some dramatic declarations or false promises of affection." There was something almost rueful in his tone, as if he wished those things were possible."I am not a child," I said, though part of me felt exactly like one—lost and frightened and desperately out of my depth. "I know this is not about love. You have your reasons for wanting this marriage, and I have mine for accepting. That is enough.""Is it?" He leaned closer, bracing one hand on the headboard above me. This close, I could see the flecks of silver in his black eyes, like stars in a night sky. His other hand lifted, hovering near my face as if he
Ciara's POVI woke to unfamiliar softness.For a moment, I lay still, disoriented, staring at a ceiling that was not mine. Dark wooden beams crossed overhead, and between them, painted constellations gleamed in silver leaf.The bed beneath me was too large, too warm, the sheets too fine. Nothing about this room belonged to my father's house.Then memory returned in a rush. The rejection. The snow. Draven's black eyes looking down at me.I sat up too quickly. Pain lanced through my temples and my body screamed in protest. Every muscle ached like I had been beaten, and my fingers and toes burned with a terrible pins-and-needles sensation that made me gasp."Careful, miss."A young woman appeared at my bedside, her hands gentle as she eased me back against the pillows. She wore a simple gray dress with a white apron, her dark hair pulled back in a neat braid. A maid."Where..." My voice came out hoarse, raw. "Where am I?""Lord Draven's residence, miss." She poured water from a crystal p












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