Chapter Six

SELENE

I had never truly spoken with my wolf. While others shared deep conversations with theirs, forming an unbreakable bond, mine remained silent—a distant presence I could barely feel. I envied them, those who could hear their wolves whisper, guiding them, strengthening them. Even during my first transformation under the full moon, when my bones cracked and my body ached, only my eyes changed. She never came forward. In the end, I was nothing more than a spectacle, a failure, a joke.

But my shortcomings didn’t stop there. When others awakened their abilities, discovering the strength that made them worthy of their lineage, I stood empty-handed. No gifts, no power. Just a name that carried no weight. An outcast with no origin.

The only reason they tolerated me was because Alpha Bruce called me his niece. But even that wasn’t enough. They didn’t see me as one of them, only as a disgrace unworthy of sharing his bloodline. And maybe they were right.

For a moment, I thought I had found a sliver of hope—Kaith. Maybe if I was chosen as the mate of one of the new generation’s powerful Alphas, my existence wouldn’t feel so hollow. Maybe I could carve out a place for myself in a world that had always shunned me. But even he looked at me like I was broken. A defect.

Perhaps this was my fate. An outcast. Weak. Rejected. And now, bound to a villain I never asked for.

I never even realised I had fallen asleep. Apart from not actually believing it and hoping it was a nightmare and trying not to fall asleep in enemy territory. He just sat, staring at me, not moving not saying a goddamn anything. So no sleeping. I sat on the opposite sofa, cuddling. Eyes fixed on him.

But then, I hear voices, distance but it gets louder. Slowly I get up and the same curios ladies surrounding my bed. More from last night but, some I can remember.

“Morning,” If I do recall, Draven had called her Jessica and she looks the oldest, “Get your acts together ladies! We need to get her ready,” she commands.

I look at them confused as they walk towards me, in a formal line.

"We’ll help you to your bath!" they chorused in perfect unison, their voices oddly cheerful.

I blinked, startled.

“Thanks, but if you could just show me where the bathhouse is, I’d really appreciate it,” I replied politely, masking my discomfort.

“Sorry, but we can’t. Lord’s orders,” Jessicah said firmly, stepping forward. “Just let them do their work.”

“But I just—”

Their unwavering gazes shut me up. It was clear resistance wouldn’t get me far.

After a warm bath—far too intimate for my liking—and being dressed in a ridiculous silk dress that barely covered anything, I was guided out into a lavish living room. Everything gleamed: crystal chandeliers, golden embroidery in the drapes, and a long marble table surrounded by intricately carved chairs. The maids bowed, then slipped out like shadows, leaving me standing there alone.

I exhaled, still in a daze, mind racing with questions. None of this made sense.

“Well, well, well…”

A slow clap echoed through the room.

I spun around.

A tall, lean man emerged from the hallway. He wore dark, military-style clothing that hugged his frame with sharp precision. A scar ran down the right side of his face—ugly and brutal, the kind claws might leave behind. But it was his grin that chilled me. Playful. Sinister.

"If it isn’t my dear sister-in-law,” he said, voice smooth like poison. “Apologies for the late introduction. I just got out of my cage, you see.”

He began circling me like a predator assessing its prey.

“You’ve got a weird scent.” He suddenly stepped in front of me, his face inches from mine. “He forced you too, didn’t he?”

“Forced me to…?” I stammered, heart pounding. His proximity made my skin crawl.

He sighed dramatically.

“That’s typical of my brother,” he muttered. “The self-crowned Alpha King—takes what he wants, whenever he wants. No questions. No consequences.”

He clapped mockingly. “So, you must be the new bride?”

In the blink of an eye, he vanished.

I gasped as warm breath tickled the nape of my neck. He was behind me.

“If you want to escape before you become his slave,” he whispered darkly, “meet me at the clock house.”

“Ducklein!”

Draven’s voice cracked through the air like thunder.

Ducklein stepped back smoothly, smile still plastered across his face.

“Brother!” he drawled, turning with exaggerated innocence. “I was just greeting my lovely sister-in-law. No need to be so uptight.”

Draven’s eyes were cold. Calculated. Dangerous. He strode forward, each step heavy with threat, his presence filling the room like a storm.

They stood face to face, toe to toe, locked in a stare so sharp it could slice through steel. The room pulsed with tension, the kind that twisted your gut and made breathing feel like a chore. It wasn’t a reunion of brothers—it was the standoff of sworn enemies bound by blood and nothing else.

“I don’t recall allowing you to step into my house with that filth-ridden stench,” Draven growled, his voice low and threatening.

Ducklein gave a theatrical gasp, then placed a hand over his heart mockingly.

“Oh! I was simply eager to meet our new queen. My excitement must’ve clouded my manners. Forgive me, my Lord.” He gave a shallow bow and turned to me with that same wicked grin.

“Do excuse me, my lady.”

And like smoke, he vanished.

Draven didn’t say a word at first. Just turned—his movements slow, deliberate—and walked toward me. There was a predator’s calm in his steps, each one echoing louder in my chest than in the room.

“Did you really have to be that mean to him? He’s your brother, after all,” I asked, crossing my arms, trying to hold onto some sense of control.

His face twisted with bitter amusement.

“Brother?” he scoffed. “I suppose growing up in Royal City has made you believe blood equals loyalty.”

He stopped just before me, his towering form casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the light around us.

“Dirt is dirt,” he said flatly. “Nothing more.”

His words hit something raw. I flinched, his voice a mirror of the cruelty I’d heard all my life. My hands trembled as I grabbed the nearest plate and shoved it toward him.

“If dirt is dirt,” I shouted, voice cracking, “then why me, huh? Why would the almighty Alpha King choose to mark me? A weak, useless, nothing of a wolf? Why would you mark dirt like me?”

His reaction was so fast, I didn’t see it coming.

A gasp escaped me as his hand wrapped around my throat, lifting me with terrifying ease. My back hit the table with a harsh thud, dishes rattling around me. He leaned in, breath warm and heavy against my cheek, his eyes dark as the void.

“You are not dirt,” he growled, voice deadly low. “You are mine, little wolf. Mine. And what belongs to me is never worthless.”

His grip loosened just enough for me to breathe, but his body remained pressed over mine, his dominance seeping into every inch of space between us.

“You got that?” he snarled. “I marked you because you were always meant to be mine.”

I laughed—dry, bitter, confused.

“Yours?” I whispered, eyes locked on his. “Since when? I didn’t even know you existed until last night. You expect me to believe I belonged to someone I’ve never met?”

He didn’t answer. Not immediately. Instead, his lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk as his hand slid downward, fingers grazing my thigh.

My breath hitched. His touch burned. It was maddening—the way my body reacted without permission. Every brush of his skin sent electric jolts pulsing through me, making my heart stutter and my thoughts scatter.

“Since when, you ask?” His voice was rough velvet. “Let me make something very clear, and carve it into that stubborn little brain of yours.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“An Alpha King doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need reasons. He sees. He wants. He takes. And when I saw you—even if someone else was stupid enough to claim you—” he scoffed, “I would’ve ripped off his head and left your precious garden dripping in blood. You, Selene, were made for me. Only me. I alone have the right to mark you.”

His eyes blazed with possession, and the air between us became thick—too thick. My chest rose and fell in rapid, shaky breaths. I should’ve screamed. I should’ve pushed him off. I should’ve been terrified.

But I wasn’t.

And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

I wasn’t afraid.

I wasn’t trembling from fear.

My skin burned with something else entirely.

Desire.

Excitement.

Oh Moon, what’s wrong with me? I knew fear. I’d lived with it my whole life. But this… this was different. This was wild. Consuming. It coiled inside me like a beast waking from slumber.

Am I… actually excited?