C4

Maristella Winterfang

My dark skin flushed hot with suppressed rage outside the White Fang Banquet Hall as the registry official’s words echoed through my signal crystal. Thirty days for the full severance of the mate-bond to settle, and he thought he could drag me back into his bed whenever his Alpha blood surged.

I smoothed down the heavy velvet skirts covering my four-foot-five, full-figured curves, my dark eyes fixed on the entrance of the banquet hall. I had painted my lips deep crimson, letting my rich omega scent breathe freely without the suppressants I used to swallow just to keep Alaric Thorncroft’s territorial guards from noticing my true lineage.

A little wolf pup scurried out from the line of she-wolves waiting for meat, his eyes wide as he looked at my silver-trimmed cloak.

"Is the high-born lady waiting for the Alpha's hunt?" the pup squeaked.

I knelt, my small, wide hands reaching into my leather pouch to pull out a piece of sweet honey-cake, dropping it into his small paw. "No, little one. The Alpha's hunt is over."

Before the pup's mother could bow in thanks, the heavy roar of iron-shod hooves rattled the cobblestones of the Frostfang Capital Roads. Three massive black carriages bearing the crest of the Winterfang lineage slammed to a halt at the edge of Moon Beacon Square.

My blood spiked as the door tore open, revealing a five-foot-ten muscular warrior with eyes like burning charcoal.

"Torren!" I gasped, taking a fast step back toward the stone wall. "What is he doing here?"

Before I could turn to run into the crowd, four heavily armored Thornfield pack guards stepped into my path, their broad shoulders blocking every route of escape.

"Move!" I snarled, my claws extending half an inch from my fingertips as my omega wolf bared her teeth inside my chest.

The guards stood like solid granite, silent and unyielding.

I slammed my wide palm against the lead guard’s iron chestplate, trying to shove him back, but a massive, scarred hand clamped around my wrist from behind, pulling me flush against a chest as hard as oak.

"Release me, or I will tear your throat out with my jaws!" I hissed, twisting in his hold.

"Try it, little sister," the deep, thunderous voice rumbled directly above my head.

I looked up straight into the unblinking gaze of my elder brother, Evander Winterfang. Beside him, Torren Ashvale immediately lowered his head to the stone floor, avoiding my furious glare.

"Whose command do you follow, Torren?" I snapped at the Ashvale warrior. "Mine or his?"

"He follows the Lord of the Keep, Maristella," Evander grunted.

Without giving me a second to draw breath, Evander hauled my short, voluptuous body completely off the stone floor, slinging me over his heavy armored shoulder like a sack of grain while the surrounding she-wolves gasped in shock.

"Brother! This is ridiculous! Put me down!" I shrieked, my fists beating uselessly against his steel backplate.

"Overboard?" Evander snapped back at Torren, who was scrambling to pick up my dropped cloak from the dirt. "She vanished into the Thorncroft territory for three full sun-cycles without a word! Throwing her over my shoulder is mercy!"

Across the square, standing near the grand archway of the White Fang Banquet Hall, Dacian Wyrmwood froze in the middle of his pack negotiations. He stared at the commotion, his eyes widening as he recognized the short, dark-skinned female being dragged away by the highest warriors of the northern territories.

Dacian pulled out a communication crystal, taking a quick projection of my face before sending it directly to Alaric Thorncroft’s private signal.

Is this not the quiet Omega you keep tucked away in your lower quarters? Why is House Winterfang treating her like royalty?

Alaric was striding into the central keep of the Thorncroft Moon Dominion, his mind still reeling from the registry official’s severance warning, when his wrist crystal flashed with Dacian’s mark.

He tapped the screen, his dark brows drawing together in immediate disgust.

"Maristella?" he muttered under his breath.

Since when did my quiet, submissive mate paint her lips in deep red? She had always worn plain wool and kept her head low, never daring to show her full curves or look an Alpha in the eye. Now she was draped in fine velvet, her wide hips and heavy chest exposed to the entire capital while a broad-shouldered warrior carried her across the square.

A violent, possessive surge of Alpha jealousy ripped through Alaric’s chest, making his wolf snarl behind his ribs. She was still his mate. Her core had taken his seed, even if the pup had failed to hold. No other male had the right to lay hands on her frame.

He tapped his crystal, responding sharply to Dacian: That female is playing games to provoke my attention. Ignore her.

He turned to Fenric Hollowmere with a cold growl. "Take five pack guards. Track down where Maristella is being taken. If any male touches her skin, break his arm."

Inside the royal Winterfang carriage, I was tossed unceremoniously onto the deep fur cushions. I sat up immediately, pulling my skirts down and glaring at Evander, who took the bench opposite me.

"I will tell Lord and Lady Winterfang how you humiliated me in front of the capital," I spat, crossing my arms tight over my chest.

"Go ahead," Evander said, his harsh voice cracking with a sudden, painful edge. "Tell mother and father how you abandoned your lineage for an Alpha who treated you like dust."

The air inside the carriage went dead silent. Guilt stabbed deep into my gut, hot and suffocating. Three years ago, I had cut my blood-bonds, refused the royal succession, and ran off with Alaric because I believed he was my destiny.

"I was foolish, Evander," I whispered, my eyes burning as wet heat spilled down my cheeks. "I thought he would see me."

Evander’s stoic face crumbled. He reached across the gap, his large, calloused hand cupping the back of my head and pulling me onto his lap just like he used to when we were pups in the northern mountains.

"You are back now, Maristella," he rumbled softly, his thumb wiping the tears from my dark skin. "The Winterfang Keep is fully restored. No Thorncroft Alpha will ever make you bleed again."

I leaned my heavy head against his chest, feeling the thick, protective beat of my true pack's blood. "I just want to rest, brother. My wolf is so tired."

"Sleep, little Luna," Evander whispered, pulling a warm bear-fur shroud over my shoulders. "When we reach the Ancestral Keep, Lord Thorncroft will find out exactly what happens when you cross the true rulers of the north."

My eyes drifted shut as the carriage crested the high mountain pass, the seal of the Winterfang bloodline burning bright on the iron gates ahead, while Alaric’s desperate tracking scouts scoured the empty roads far below.