ch. 7 Meeting the Parents

Aminda's PoV

As the helicopter descended, a sleek black Mercedes waited on the helipad, its polished frame gleaming beneath the sun. My eyes drank in the sight before me—wolves sparring in the open fields, laughter and growls echoing through the trees. It was a vibrant community carved into the forest’s heart, brimming with life and discipline.

The houses stood in perfect rows, charming porches framed with roses and ivy. But it was the mansion that captured my breath. If my home were a brooding Dracula’s fortress, this place was the image of a fairytale castle, its turrets rising against the blue sky. The gardens were a riot of color, roses in every hue surrounding a fountain that danced in the light. Aunt Marilla would have sneered—she only allowed imported black roses, which were elegant but lifeless.

I turned to find Kian watching me, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Do you like it?” he asked, eyes warm with curiosity.

“I love it. My place is much darker, more gothic,” I laughed, though my cheeks burned under his gaze.

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’re going to meet my parents now.”

The name itself filled me with a quiet dread. “Alpha King Korin and Queen Luna Annabel?”

He nodded proudly. “Yes.”

The car pulled to a stop at the castle’s grand entrance. River excused himself, leaving Kian to clasp my hand again before guiding me inside. The sharp click of my Louboutins echoed across polished marble floors, each step carrying me deeper into a world of elegance. Gilded frames and priceless artwork lined the walls; graceful sculptures stood sentinel in corners. How different this was from Marilla’s grim gargoyles and shadowed halls.

At last, we stopped before heavy oak doors. Kian leaned close, kissing me softly before pushing them open. Inside, King Korin sat behind a grand desk, dressed impeccably, his light-brown hair and sharp features echoing Kian’s. Beside him, Queen Annabel—poised in pearls and a Chanel suit—watched me with frosty precision.

Kian’s fingers brushed over the mark on my neck, then he spoke with unshakable pride.

“Alpha King. Queen Luna. This is my mate, Aminda Bettencourt.”

Both parents recoiled at my name. Annabel’s lips thinned, her voice trembling with disdain.

“A witch, Kian? You deserve a ranked she-wolf, someone worthy of your lineage.”

The words stung, though I had no desire to wear a crown. Still, I lifted my chin. “And what makes me unworthy of being Queen Luna?”

Kian’s arm slipped protectively around me. “Mother, enough. If you cannot accept her, you will lose me too.”

“Silence!” King Korin’s voice cracked like thunder. He dropped a heavy tome onto the desk, dust swirling into the air. “You both must see why this union can never be.”

Annabel paled as he flipped to a page inked with ancient illustrations—a silver-haired witch with violet eyes and a wolf prince whose features echoed Kian’s.

“This curse has endured for centuries,” the King said gravely. “The daughters of Hecate and the sons of Selene are forbidden to entwine. Every attempt ends in ruin.”

I leaned closer, unsettled by how closely the witch resembled me. “Tell us, King Korin. Tell us everything.”

And so he did. He spoke of the witch princess who once dared to seduce a wolf prince, of a rejected mate who cursed them to find each other in every lifetime only to bring destruction, never peace. My chest tightened as the story unfolded, a tragedy etched into both our bloodlines.

“That’s unfair!” I burst out. “The prince strayed, yet she was punished?”

The King’s face hardened. “Such is the way of curses, child. It does not bend to fairness.”

Kian’s grip tightened on mine. “This is superstition. Even if true, it cannot dictate our lives.”

But the King’s eyes burned into me. “Then ask your aunt Marilla why she never married. Once, her hair was silver as moonlight—until dark magic blackened it. She, too, has borne the curse.”

The revelation struck me like a stone. My pulse thundered as I whispered, “And the Wolf King of that era?”

“Killian,” Korin said, voice low. “He found no fated mate. They say he loved a witch, but she scorned him—rejected him so brutally he never recovered. He died alone, his crown passed to my grandfather.”

The resemblance to Marilla’s tale was undeniable.

Kian leaned forward, desperation in his voice. “Then tell us how to break it. There must be a way.”

The King shook his head. “If one exists, no record remains. Accept the truth: this bond can only bring ruin.”

My heart twisted. I already knew what duty demanded—Kian could never be mine. Yet when I looked into his eyes, burning with love and defiance, I faltered.

“It’s alright, Kian,” I whispered. “We must put our people first. I cannot abandon my crown, not while Alister lives. To protect you, I must rule.”

His hands cupped my face, his thumb tracing the mark as though memorizing it. It sent electric pleasure down my spine. “Aminda, don’t surrender us so easily. Fight for us.”

Oh, how I wanted to. But his father’s final words struck like a blade:

“If you intend to claim this witch as your Luna, you will never ascend my throne.”

I stepped back, my heart fracturing as I severed the space between us. “I’m sorry, Kian. Perhaps in another life.”

Tears blurred my vision. My heart screamed to stay. But instead, I summoned the ancient spell that had always been my shield and my prison.

The castle dissolved into smoke around me, colors twisting, collapsing in on themselves as the air folded in shimmering waves. The last thing I saw was Kian’s outstretched hand, his expression carved with grief.

Then—silence.

Cold marble gave way to the dark velvet of my own chamber in the Bettencourt mansion. The scent of black roses filled the air, cloying and cruel in its familiarity.

I staggered forward, my chest heaving, my magic still crackling faintly in the air around me. Alone now, truly alone, I sank into the shadows I knew too well.

“Forgive me, Kian,” I whispered to the emptiness. “This is how it must be.”