Chapter Twelve

Maya's POV:

Protection. This is the reason why I am going to marry Ulric. I will not fall back into the hands of Cole. I will ensure he is held accountable for what he has done. I will take advantage of everything Ulric has to offer: the training, the werewolf pack, the money, the protection.

I will follow his stupid rules, be the meek, submissive wife he wants. I will even give him his heir. But I will find Cole, and I will kill him, even if it is the last thing I do.

I lay awake in my bed, tossing and turning, then turn to see the digital clock on my bedside table. I need my phone back desperately. The clock reads 1:42 am. My nightdress is sticking to my body. I need air. I feel suffocated.

I scramble out of bed and decide to go find a glass of water. I walk out the door and enter the massive hallway. I followed a path to Ulric's office earlier; now I just need to find the damn kitchen. Why does one man need such a massive house?

After what feels like twenty-five minutes and passing what feels like fifty-five doors, I finally see the large open-plan kitchen with oak cabinets and marble countertops. It is beautiful.

I am in awe. Just think of the family meals I could make here.

Family.

My stomach aches at that thought. I think back to the Sunday meals my father and I used to cook together. I still cannot believe they betrayed me like this. Sold me to the crazy Cole and his bitch.

I dig through the cabinets and finally find a glass. I am once again struck by how beautiful this kitchen is. I wonder if Ulric will let me cook. He has a chef and all, but I should at least be allowed the privilege of cooking in my own home.

The reality hits me.

This is my home too.

I can do whatever the hell I want. Ulric is my husband-to-be, not my boss. I will follow his rules, and I expect to be respected as well. I am a Luna. Or whatever.

What is a Luna even?

I need a phone to G****e. Damn. I know I saw a library somewhere.

I set my glass in the sink and begin walking through the house, searching for Ulric's study where we had our heated conversation earlier.

Finally I see the familiar carved dark oak door.

I look around to see if anyone is awake. It is just Ulric and me here at night, so I do not know who I expect to see watching me, but still. I open the heavy door and step inside.

Shelves packed with books.

I begin searching for something, anything, that can give me information. I need to know what I am getting myself into. What is a Luna? How does marking work? And mating with a werewolf…

"Will it be like having sex with a dog?"

I accidentally say that last part out loud.

"No. I will not shift while we mate, Maya."

Ulric's deep voice comes from directly behind me.

I drop the book as I spin around. He is suddenly right there, too close, picking the book up as if nothing happened.

"What are you doing in here, Maya?" he asks. His voice is calm.

"I couldn't sleep," I say. "I wanted water. Then I couldn't stop thinking, and I came looking for answers."

His eyebrow lifts slightly. "Answers."

"Yes. Answers. You cannot expect me to just agree to all of this without understanding anything." I cross my arms. "What is a Luna? What does marking mean? What is it actually like being… you?"

His expression shifts. Less irritation. More consideration.

"You could have asked me."

"I am afraid of you, Ulric. You walk around like you can rip my head off if I move wrong. Why would I ask you anything?" I speak fast, and honestly. My thoughts pour unfiltered from my mouth.

Silence settles between us.

"So?" I ask. "What is a Luna?"

Ulric leans against the desk, folding his arms. "A Luna is not just a wife. She is the female Alpha. My equal in rank, even if our roles differ. She stabilizes the pack emotionally. She strengthens the bond between members. A good Luna can hold a pack together during war."

I blink. "So not just breeding stock?"

His eyes darken slightly. "No. Never just that."

That answer settles something uncomfortable in my chest.

"And the mark?"

"It is a bite. Given during mating. It binds us. You would feel my emotions more clearly. I would feel yours. It also tells every wolf you belong under my protection."

"Belong," I repeat quietly.

"Protected," he corrects.

I hesitate before asking the next question.

"And being a wolf, what does it feel like?"

That question seems to surprise him the most.

He takes a moment before answering.

"Imagine always being aware of everything. Every sound has layers. Every scent tells a story. Fear smells sharp. Happiness is warm. Lies smell wrong." His eyes hold mine. "You would not survive long among wolves if you often lied."

"Good thing I am a terrible liar," I mutter.

"Yes," he says simply. "You are."

I narrow my eyes. "That sounded like an insult."

"It was an observation."

I study him. "And your wolf? Fenrir?"

At that name, something shifts in his posture. Pride. Respect.

"Fenrir is not a pet. He is not separate from me. He is me. My instincts. My aggression. My need to protect what is mine."

Mine.

The word lands heavy between us.

"Does he hate me?" I ask quietly.

Ulric's gaze softens slightly. "No. If he did, you would know."

That does not comfort me nearly as much as he seems to think it should.

"Can I see him?"

That question clearly was not expected.

"Now?" he asks.

"Yes."

"It is the middle of the night."

"I noticed," I reply dryly.

He studies me for a long moment, like he is weighing something.

"Come," he finally says.

"Where?"

"Outside."

We move through the quiet house together.

We step outside into the cold night air. The forest stretches beyond the house like a dark ocean.

Ulric turns toward me. "Do not run."

"I was not planning on it."

"Do not scream."

"I make no promises."

That almost earns another smile.

His voice drops slightly. "Stay where you are."

Then it happens.

His body tenses. Muscles shift under his skin. His bones move in ways that should be impossible. It should be horrifying.

Instead, it is mesmerizing.

Where Ulric stood, a massive black wolf now breathes in the night air. His fur catches the moonlight like dark silver. His eyes are the same. Intelligent. Focused. Watching me carefully.

Fenrir.

My breath leaves me.

"You're beautiful," I whisper.

The wolf steps closer slowly, giving me time to panic.

I do not.

"Can I?" I ask softly, holding out my hand.

Fenrir lowers his massive head slightly.

Permission.

My fingers sink into thick, impossibly soft fur. Warm. Real. Alive. A deep rumble vibrates through his chest, not a threat but something softer.

Trust.

My fear melts into pure awe.

"You are real," I whisper.

Fenrir nudges my shoulder gently, nearly knocking me over.

"What do you want?" I ask nervously.

He lowers himself slightly.

"Wait…are you serious?"

Another nudge.

"This is insane," I murmur, but I swing one leg carefully over his back, gripping his fur.

The moment I am secure, he rises.

Then he runs.

The forest becomes wind and shadows. Cold air burns my lungs while adrenaline floods my veins. I should be terrified. Instead, I am laughing. Actually laughing.

For the first time in what feels like forever.

Fenrir runs like the night belongs to him.

And somehow for this moment,

I feel like I belong there too.

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