C2

"Elira Stormveil, guide Lady Blackwynd to the upper den."

My racing pulse instantly steadied when Vickon gave the command.

A sudden, overwhelming instinct surged through my veins, and before my rational mind could stop me, I lunged forward, wrapping my arms tight around Vickon's broad, powerful shoulders in a desperate embrace. "I am going to protect you, Alpha. I swear it on my blood."

It was a reckless, clumsy hold, but breaking the pack boundary to feel the heat of his skin was the closest I had ever been to him in either of my lifetimes.

The moment my scent crashed against his and the scent of winter pine and raw dominance filled my lungs, my skin flushed hot with embarrassment. I tore myself away from his heavy chest and bolted toward the stone stairs without looking back.

Safely inside the upper corridor, my face still burned with heat, my mind spinning with anxiety over my own wild impulses. Vickon was a lethal True Alpha who executed any wolf that dared breach his personal space without submission; would he declare me a rogue for touching him?

Downstairs in the grand hall.

Vickon remained frozen long after my shadow vanished past the landing of the stone staircase.

Protect him?

The phantom warmth of my touch still lingered against his fur collar, offering a strange, intoxicating comfort he had never felt from any pack member. No wolf in the Dominion had ever spoken those words to him.

Standing by the hearth, Zyric Fenwolf fought to keep his jaw from dropping.

The Alpha wasn't unleashing his feral aura? He wasn't shredding the female to pieces?

Last mooncycle, when another high-ranking lady tried to scent-mark him by force, Vickon's growl shook the valley and he nearly tore her throat out before throwing her to the guards.

Upstairs.

Elira Stormveil, the senior pack matron, led me toward the rear of the stone fortress, her cold disapproval radiating through her rigid posture.

I stopped dead at the threshold of a small, cramped chamber. "You expect me to sleep here?"

I knew every inch of Moonhollow Ridge from my years of captivity in the previous life, and this room was nothing but a low-tier omega bunk, leagues away from the Alpha's private quarters.

Was I not supposed to be the high-ranking lunar mate of the Blackwynd Moon Dominion?

Elira's expression remained tight and unyielding. "Your arrival was unannounced by your pack elders. We have not cleansed the master suite of silver toxins, so you will have to survive in these quarters for the night."

Her tone carried the weight of an elder wolf who answered only to the Alpha line, so I held back my snarl, hauled my rucksack inside, and shut the heavy oak door.

I needed to wash the scent of Darkmere Crossing from my skin, but when I twisted the heavy iron valve of the washbasin, the water shocked my fingers with ice-cold temperature.

Elira ran this fortress with ruthless precision; she knew exactly which pipes were frozen, meaning she had placed me in this dead-end room to test my submission.

My eyes flashed an icy blue as I stepped back out to find another servant, intercepting a young omega passing through the hall.

"Where is the nearest functioning washroom?"

Sorelle Mistfang flinched at my sharp tone before pointing down the dark corridor. "The northern doors. Use that one."

I pushed through the heavy timber doors into a massive, cavernous chamber filled with the scent of pine, crushed slate, and raw, lethal power.

A wave of intense nostalgia hit me I knew this room perfectly. This was Vickon's private sanctuary.

"Leave us," I told Sorelle, stepping inside without a second thought before adding, "Find me a clean tunic from the stores."

I had brought nothing from the Nightvale den due to my original plan to flee with Thorne, leaving me without pack clothing, though I knew the Blackwynd fortress kept spare ceremonial furs for guests.

Meanwhile, back in the grand hall..

Vaelira Nightvale could barely mask the predatory hunger in her eyes since crossing the threshold of the fortress.

Most high-ranking females feared Vickon's silver scar like a curse, but she saw past the blood.

Who was Vickon Blackwynd? Even if his wolf was dying from silver poison, holding the title of his mate meant absolute dominion over the entire northern territories.

It infuriated her she carried the same Nightvale bloodline, so why was she deemed unworthy of the Alpha's bed? My mother had returned to the earth years ago, leaving her own mother to rule our den, meaning there was no reason the marriage alliance shouldn't have been given to her from the start.

Her scheme had worked flawlessly; she had manipulated her naive sister into running straight into Thorne's rogue traps, leaving the title of Lady Blackwynd open for her to claim.

The thought made her inner wolf purr with victory.

"Alpha Vickon, this is Vaelira of the Nightvale Bloodline."

Vaelira lifted her gaze, freezing instantly as the massive Alpha stepped into the torchlight.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

She had never encountered a predator with such terrifying, breathtaking presence.

"I am Vaelira!" she announced, stepping forward with her head held high, her scent shifting into an inviting, fertile note that begged for his attention.

Vickon tracked every desperate pheromone she was emitting, his expression remaining carved from winter stone. "Nightvale? Why are you inside my borders?"

"I came to answer for my sister's treason!" Vaelira claimed, dropping her eyes to feign deep shame. "Alpha, Zafira is weak and uneducated in the laws of the wild. She believed the rumors of your silver sickness, panicked, and fled into the wastes with a rogue fighter because she was too terrified to face your mating bite."

Upstairs, I stepped out of the wash basin to find the stone ledge completely empty of the tunic I asked for.

I snarled under my breath, marching over to Vickon's heavy furs, pulling a massive black ceremonial robe from the cedar chest and wrapping it around my body. The True Alpha was massive; his heavy garment dragged across the stone floor like a shadow, forcing me to hitch up the thick fabric and knot the leather belt tight around my waist, leaving the collar loose over my collarbones.

I stepped out to track down the useless servant, but the moment I reached the mezzanine, a familiar, poisonous voice echoed from the hall below.

"I am ready to offer my own neck to the Blackwynd Moon Dominion to preserve our alliance. I only pray you do not slaughter my pack for Zafira's cowardice."

She sounded entirely righteous, playing the part of a noble sister sacrificing her own flesh for the safety of her den.

My lips pulled back into a silent, lethal snarl.

Below, Vaelira stood like a delicate white wolf offering her throat chin tilted high, eyes glistening with false tears as she waited for the Alpha's acceptance.

She believed she was superior to me in every way; if Vickon was willing to accept a broken omega, he would surely claim a pure bloodline like hers, especially now that the original mate had fled 

"Vaelira, who gave you permission to stand in this hall?"

My low, clear voice cut through the damp air of the fortress.

Vaelira's eyes widened in sheer terror as her head snapped up toward the balcony.

The moment she saw me descending the stone steps, her face drained of color so fast she nearly lost her footing.

How was Zafira still alive?

Vickon, who had been enduring Vaelira's performance with a dead, unreadable stare, raised his golden eyes and went completely rigid.

My hair was still dripping wet, clinging to my neck, while my skin radiated the heat of the wash. My eyes burned with a fierce lunar glow, making it impossible for any wolf in the room to look away.

But what held everyone frozen was the massive, dark fur robe wrapped around my small frame a robe that carried only Vickon's scent. His pupils dilated into pitch-black rings.

Zyric and the surrounding guards exchanged terrified glances, their hands shifting toward their blades.

The Alpha was insanely territorial over his sanctuary and his scent-marked belongings. For the new female to violate both his private den and his sacred armor the very hour she arrived she had just invited her own execution.