Chapter 3: The Master Suite

The heavy mahogany door of the Alpha’s quarters clicked shut, locking out the whispering hallways and Victoria’s burning gaze.

The master suite was vast and imposing, built from raw grey stone and dark walnut. A massive stone fireplace dominated the far wall, its flames crackling softly and casting dancing shadows across a king-sized canopy bed. The air in the room was saturated with Ethan’s scent—cedar, ozone, and the faint, bitter edge of mountain pine.

Lyra pulled her hand free from Ethan’s grip the moment the lock engaged. She took three steps backward, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"You didn't tell me I’d be staying in your room," she said, her voice echoing slightly in the high-ceilinged space. "There are dozens of guest rooms in this estate."

Ethan unbuttoned his coat, tossing it carelessly onto a leather armchair. He turned to face her, his broad chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths.

"Guest rooms have locks on the inside," Ethan said coolly, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp black shirt to reveal forearm muscles corded with strength. "And guest rooms aren't monitored by my personal guard. You're a banished rogue, Lyra. Did you expect a red carpet and a key to the front gate?"

"I expected basic human decency," she retorted, crossing her arms tightly across her chest to stop her hands from shaking. "Or have you completely forgotten what that feels like since you put on that crown?"

Ethan’s eyes flared amber. In a fraction of a second, he crossed the room. The sheer speed of an Alpha’s movement was breathtaking; before Lyra could even register the shift, Ethan was standing directly in front of her, his presence looming over her like a thundercloud.

"Do not test my patience tonight," he growled low, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. "I just stood in front of the entire pack council and declared a convicted poisoner as my temporary Luna. My position is being challenged by three northern packs, rogues are gathering at our southern border, and half my Elders think I've gone mad. I am not in the mood for your defiance."

Lyra refused to back down, lifting her chin to meet his terrifying gaze. "Then let me go see Leo! You got what you wanted—you humiliated Victoria, you shocked the Council, and you dragged me back into this nightmare. The least you can do is let me see my brother!"

"You will see him tomorrow," Ethan said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "After the Elders sign off on the temporary blood pact."

"The blood pact..." Lyra swallowed hard, a cold knot forming in her stomach. "You were serious about that?"

"An Alpha cannot simply point at a woman and claim her as Luna," Ethan replied, stepping even closer until the toe of his leather boots brushed hers. The heat radiating off him was stifling. "The Council demands proof of a bond. Tomorrow morning, before the sun reaches its peak, Elder Vance will cut our palms. We will spill our blood onto the pack stone and seal the contract."

"And what happens when the Harvest Moon passes?" Lyra asked, her voice dropping into a tense whisper. "When Victoria heals and you don't need me anymore?"

A dark, unreadable emotion flickered across Ethan’s sharp features. He reached out, his long fingers catching her chin in a surprisingly gentle grip. His thumb traced the lower curve of her lip, sending an unwanted spark of warmth straight to her core. Her inner wolf stirred, whining softly at the familiar touch.

"When the Harvest Moon passes," Ethan whispered, his eyes dropping to her mouth before snapping back to hers, "you get your brother, your clean slate, and your exile back. You can return to your quiet little human life and pretend none of this ever happened."

"Good," Lyra choked out, trying to ignore the sudden, sharp pang in her chest. "Because I can't wait to leave."

Ethan’s grip on her chin tightened just enough to remind her of his strength. His smirk was sharp and entirely devoid of warmth. "Liars should practice their expressions in a mirror, Lyra. Your wolf is screaming for mine right now."

He released her so suddenly she almost lost her balance. Turning on his heel, he walked toward the large adjoining bathroom.

"Take the left side of the bed," Ethan called out over his shoulder, pausing at the doorway. "And don't bother trying the windows. The drop is eighty feet onto solid rock, and my guards have orders to shoot anything that moves after midnight."

The bathroom door closed, followed by the sound of running water.

Lyra let out a long, shuddering breath, her knees finally giving out. She sank onto the edge of the plush velvet sofa near the fireplace, wrapping her arms around herself.

She looked toward the massive bed, then at the fire burning in the hearth. Three years ago, she would have given anything to be in this room as Ethan's Luna. Now, she was here as a prisoner, playing a dangerous game of pretend with a man who hated her, surrounded by enemies who wanted her dead.

She looked toward the closed bathroom door, hearing the water stop. The contract wasn't even signed yet, but as she listened to Ethan's footsteps approaching, Lyra knew the real danger wasn't the pack council or Victoria.

The real danger was surviving the storm raging inside the Alpha's bedroom.