chapter 11

The corridor outside the ballroom was dark, the ornate lanterns dimmed to a softer, more intimate glow. As the guests’ laughter and music faded behind them, Knox guided Lydia through the hushed fifth-floor hallway toward his office. Their footsteps echoed on the polished wood. The tension was still fresh—but now a different kind of quiet filled the air, one that held possibility.

“Where are we going?” Lydia asked. She didn’t know what he was doing.

Knox smiled a little—for the first time she’d seen him smile, and it was... cute. She quickly tore her eyes away from him. She was starting to get bewitched.

“Can’t you just follow me and stop asking?” he said and stopped to look at her.

Lydia pulled her hand from his grasp and folded her arms across her chest.

“I’m not an easy wolf to lure. I need to know where you’re taking me. Can’t I ask again?” She shot him a stubborn look that made Knox pause, maybe amused by her defiance—or her beauty. But either way, Lydia was stubborn as hell and she was standing her ground.

Finally, Knox raised a hand and pointed to the door behind him.

“Here.”

She looked behind him and saw the wooden door. It was closed. She hadn’t noticed it before. When Emily had shown her to her suite, she’d seen the layout—her room on the far right, Knox’s room beside hers with another room in between that she assumed was Emily’s. Across from hers was a grand set of double doors—larger than the others—but she hadn’t paid them much mind. But now, here was a door she hadn’t seen, and he was leading her to it.

“What is this place?” she asked, eyeing him.

Knox shook his head. “I think we should find out,” he said. “Shall we?”

Lydia looked at him, then nodded.

When he opened the door, Lydia stepped inside and took in the space: a perfectly symmetrical two-seater office. One desk, two chairs, two sides facing each other. Deep mahogany wood. Heavy drapes pulled back just enough to show the view of the forest beyond. On one side, Knox’s black leather chair—sturdy and commanding. Opposite it, a smaller velvet armchair covered with a soft fur throw. The walls held old pack banners in dark royal blue and silver. A large window framed the trees, and a narrow shelf displayed leather-bound tomes and old scrolls—family records. At the center of the desk, resting on a plush mat, lay an ancient knife. Its handle was carved with intricate Celtic knotwork that glinted in the lantern light.

Lydia’s breath caught. Everything in this room spoke of power, history, authority—and purpose.

Knox stepped inside, closing the door gently behind them. He leaned back against his chair, studying her. She remained quiet—still bundled in her green gown from the ceremony. He exhaled softly as if weighing his next words.

“So this is your office?” she asked, still taking in the beauty.

He nodded. “Was. Now it’s ours.”

Lydia looked at him. “Ours?”

“Yes. From now on, we’ll be sharing this office.” He pointed to the second chair.

Lydia’s eyes moved to it. It wasn’t as big as his, but it was pink, and soft fur was draped over it.

“What’s this?”

“Your chair. I figured it might hurt your back to use a chair like mine, so I ordered something more… girly.”

Lydia gave him an irritated look. “I’m not the kind of girl who prefers pink. It’s a weak color. Change it. I prefer yours.”

Knox looked at her, amazed.

“But Emily said you might like—”

“That’s Emily,” Lydia cut him off. “I’m Lydia. And I’m a girl born from a warrior and raised as one. So, please—I prefer yours.”

Knox nodded. Kai laughed in his mind.

“Ha ha ha, you met your match,” the wolf teased.

Knox shut him off and faced the beautiful but strong-willed girl in front of him.

“Why… did you want your suite tonight?” he asked gently. “You deliberately chose not to come to mine.”

Lydia crossed her arms. A flicker of something—stubbornness, resolve—shone in her eyes. “Because,” she said evenly, “it’s clearer this way. We’re not mates. We shouldn’t pretend otherwise. Sleeping together, even as Alpha and Luna in the same room… would make things harder. People would assume. Expectations would shift.”

He studied her quietly, a small, sad crease forming between his brows. Then he straightened and shook it off.

She was right.

“What were you thinking…?” Kai growled in his head. “She’s not our mate. Don’t forget—we’re only pretending, to protect the pack.”

“Right,” Knox said aloud. He looked down, bracing himself. “I get that.”

Lydia dared a glance up. Was that sorrow—or disappointment—in his eyes? Whatever it was, he masked it quickly. He stepped around the desk and lifted the silver knife from its resting place. The lantern light danced along the blade.

“It’s ancient,” he said. “Hundreds of years old. One of my family’s ceremonial tools. We use it to bind new members into the Blue Moon Pack.”

Lydia’s heart began to pound. “You want me to… join the pack?”

He nodded and placed the knife flat on the desk. “Yes. Temporarily—until we figure out what’s wrong with your scent and your wolf. You’re considered Luna… and my mate. If we can’t even mind link each other or connect with the pack, they’ll get suspicious. And that could cost us. Don’t forget—some of us are Lycans. The rest are wolves. But Lycans can sniff things out quickly.”

Lydia looked at him. She understood what he meant. She’d forgotten—this pack wasn’t all werewolves. Some were Lycans, and yet they lived together, though that was rare. Lycans were stronger, faster, more agile. And it was the first time she’d seen a pack like this. Harold and Eddie were Alphas of other packs… and Lycan princes?

Did they attack and take over this one?

She shoved the thought aside. Now wasn’t the time to ask. Later, maybe. For now, she had to focus.

Knox lifted the knife again, turning it so the light caught the knot patterns. “It cuts both ways—literally. You and I share blood now. This is only done when we can’t mark each other. Since we’re not mates.”

He paused, his eyes searching her face. “But I want this for you. As protection. So the pack doesn’t question. So you have rights here. So I’m responsible for you.”

She didn’t speak. He wasn’t asking for permission—he was declaring intention.

“You can refuse,” he said gently. “But if you really want to stay—really want my help—this is how it happens.” He set the knife on the mat again. “Come here.”

Lydia’s blood hummed in her ears. She stepped forward and placed her hand palm-up next to his. He mirrored her movement. The knife lay between them—a symbolic, necessary barrier.

He inhaled slowly, lifted his wrist, and pressed the blade beneath. Lydia watched as a line formed, and blood beaded, then dripped into her open palm.

He then slid the blade across her wrist. She gasped. Pain flared—hot and sharp. She stared at the line of blood, and then at her hand over his. Their blood mixed. It would heal quickly—shapeshifters always did—but without Circe, she felt hollow. It hurt more than it should have. Empty. But she forced herself to stay grounded.

They pressed palms together. Warmth radiated from the contact. His chest trembled, emotion flashing in his eyes: regret? hope? pride? Something unspoken.

He cleared his throat and began the ancient rite, his voice low and steady:

“I, Alpha Knox Black, Lycan Prince of Wales of the Lycan Kingdom, welcome you, Lydia Michael, into the Blue Moon Pack. You are forever bound—with pain, with blood, and with life—to this pack until you are ready to sever the ties.”

Each word pulsed through her like electricity. When they separated, he wiped their hands with a soft cloth. Her throat tightened. Her skin burned. Was this real?

He sat back. “You’re one of us now.”

Lydia swallowed. Her voice was raw. “Am I… accepted?”

His face softened. “Yes.” His eyes gleamed. “Rest assured, Lydia. I won’t let anything harm you. And I’ll help bring back your wolf—bring back your scent. I promise.”

Her chest rose and fell slowly. She exhaled and met his gaze. He gave her a full, unguarded smile.

This man was giving her hope. Hope she hadn’t expected to find. He made it sound easy—but she knew better. He was trying to calm her.

“You can resume as Luna… tomorrow morning,” he said. “Get some rest.”

Lydia nodded and turned to leave, but he reached out and caught her arm gently.

“Thank you,” he said. “For trusting me… again.”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I should be thanking you. First, for saving me at the Alpha Ball. You saved me from disgrace—and from disappointing my father and pack. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there.”

Knox smiled. “I know. And I don’t know what my brothers or the pack would think if I hadn’t seen you there. You were like a blessing. Even my father can’t complain now.”

Lydia shuddered at the word—his father. The Lycan King. She’d heard stories. Her dad had spoken of his cruelty. Would she meet him soon? What would he be like?

“I’m sorry. You should go now,” Knox said, releasing her hand.

She nodded, closing her eyes for a quick breath. “Good night.”

She stepped out and closed the door softly behind her.

She walked slowly to her room. The cut on her palm was already healing. Circe was still there, but she didn’t know how to reach her. Lydia sighed. So much pain, so much pretending. If only she could get her scent back. She couldn't rely solely on Knox. She had to fight for herself.

But not tonight.

Just as she reached her door, Knox’s office opened. He headed downstairs. Lydia stared after him until he disappeared.

Where was he going?

She stepped inside her room.

Not her concern. They were fake mates anyway.