5.

Damian Moretti was exactly like he’d seemed on the news.

Cold, handsome, and imperceptible.

He had dark hair that was artfully combed and styled. His face was all sharp angles, smooth cheekbones, a harsh jawline, and dark grey eyes that held absolutely no emotion.

He was remote, even when he took my hand and finally stared into my eyes. There was a moment where the grey of his gaze shone with a glimmer of gold, but I assumed it had something to do with the reflection of the light and my eyes playing tricks on me.

And I wouldn’t get the chance to confirm that since he didn’t look my way the rest of the ceremony.

Damian spoke only when it was his turn to say his vows, and his voice was unfeeling, but it rumbled through me, lighting up something deep in my body that didn’t make sense. Attraction. Of course I was attracted to him. He was—like all werewolves—an absurdly handsome man, and I was human. Of course I was feeling… something.

Eventually, the vows were said, the rings exchanged, passages read by the priest, and it was time for the kiss.

“…by the power vested in me by the Council of Humans and Heaven, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The priest stepped back and gestured toward us both. “You may now kiss the bride.”

My heart stuttered in my throat when Damian leaned forward. Nothing in his face gave away his feelings as he lifted my veil, dipped his head, and pressed his lips against mine.

Claps broke out, drowning out the sound of my gasp as sparks and heat flew from where our skin met. His hand rested on the small of my back, large and warm, sending goosebumps erupting all over my body.

I think I trembled, leaning into his touch. I could have sworn his lips parted further, covering mine more fully but then he stepped away, and my body felt awfully cold.

I turned quickly to the crowd and forced a smile, but when I turned back to Damian, he was gone.

I blinked in confusion. He truly wasn’t there. I couldn’t even glimpse his departing back as the guests swarmed me, led me away from the altar, and roped me into conversation.

“I hear you’re a pianist,” one of them said.

She was a werewolf. They all were.

And they were all scrutinising.

I knew those expressions. Human high society wasn’t so different from werewolf high society, it seemed. They scanned me up and down, noses upturned, sniffing faintly, I guessed this was a werewolf thing. I caught the briefest flash of a sharp canine, a sneer, before it disappeared.

They had taken it upon themselves to judge me, and they’d found me unworthy.

If I were here as myself, I probably would have snapped back. But I was Daria. Calm. Shy. Easygoing Daria.

Fuck. This was going to be difficult.

“I am,” I replied, smiling softly at the she-wolf. “I also dance a little.”

“How… charming,” she said, her smile sharpening.

“You’re a lot frailer than I expected,” another remarked.

Well, compared to them, I was. Werewolves were tall; even the women stood somewhere above five foot ten on a good day.

“How is she supposed to bear the heir of a powerful werewolf male?” someone whispered. Barely.

“She won’t, obviously,” another replied with a chuckle. “You heard what happened to the last few that tried.”

A chill spread down my spine, and I glanced at their faces to see if they were joking. They weren’t. They seemed extremely pleased with the idea of me dying in childbirth.

They circled closer, and the attempt at cordial questions became outright insults.

“Your family must truly love you if they gave you out just like that,” one of them said sarcastically.

“I don’t think—” I started.

“You should be honoured,” a male voice said, drawing closer to me than was probably polite. “That our alpha is giving any time at all to a human like you. I wonder if he’d let us play around with you first.”

I spun around to face him, indignation burning on my face. “I would appreciate it if you stepped back, sir.”

I glanced over his shoulder to see if Damian was anywhere nearby, but there was no glimpse of his dark head or stiff posture. The man only got closer, and just when I was about to reach out and actually hit him, someone shouldered past him and placed a firm hand on my elbow.

“That’s enough,” the man said. His voice was gruff, and a long, terrifying scar ran down the right side of his face. His gaze swept over the small group. “If you’ll excuse me, the bride is needed elsewhere.”

He didn’t give them a chance to respond and simply dragged me away, out of the circle of rude werewolves.

“This way,” he said quietly.

I let out a shaky sigh. I didn’t know who he was. I was too relieved to care.

We exited through a side corridor, the noise of the reception dulling behind us. The halls were cooler, quieter, lit by low sconces that cast long shadows across the stone floors.

“Thank you for helping me,” I said when we got outside and he released me, taking a step back.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice professional.

He was a large man with a buzz-cut head and dark eyes hidden behind dark shades. He led me to where a car was waiting, flanked by two security vehicles. One in front, one behind. The driver opened the door without a word.

“Where are we going?” I asked, pausing and glancing at the large man. “Who are you? Why did you bring me here?”

“My name is Riccardo. I was assigned by Alpha Damian to be your personal bodyguard,” he replied. “I’m taking you to your new home. Your parents have already had all your personal items moved.”

“Bodyguard,” I muttered. I looked around me, there were guards everywhere and even the wedding had been crawling with security. Just before the door shut, I asked, “Isn’t this too much security?”

“You’re Luna now, Mrs. Moretti. You’ll have to get used to it,” he replied, and shut the door.

The drive passed in silence. I watched the city blur past the window, lights streaking softly. I shut my eyes and tried to keep myself very calm. Eventually we arrived, of course, the Alpha’s house was deep in werewolf territory and the drive took a while. I opened my eyes to gawk at the manor that was twice as big as my parents and swallowed deeply.

Staff appeared the moment I stepped out of the car, bowing and murmuring, “Luna.” Riccardo left me there to be ushered inside and toward what I assumed was my suite. From there, everything passed in a blur, and I struggled to control the panic rising in my chest because there really was no escaping this.

I was stripped of my gown and led into a bath filled with scented water and rose petals. My hair was washed, my body primed and shaved, and then I was dried. The maids dressed me in lingerie and handed me a dressing gown to wear in the meantime.

By the time they were done, night had fully settled.

I was then escorted to Damian’s room, not far from mine, and left alone. I sat on the bed, trying to tamp down the anxiety coiling in my stomach. I quickly slipped out the pills my mother had pressed into my palm before the ceremony and swallowed them dry. They would stop me from conceiving. I wrung my hands as I waited for my new husband.

Minutes ticked by. Or hours, I wasn’t sure. My heart raced in my chest, and nausea churned low in my stomach. Eventually, fatigue won out over anxiety, and I fell into an uneasy nap.

I woke when a maid knocked and poked her head through the half-open door.

“I apologise, Luna,” she said softly. “You may return to your room. Your husband won’t be returning tonight.”