C4

"I will not tolerate you using that tone in my presence, Axista," Riven Thornevale growls, his powerful voice shaking the heavy oak beams of the pack office.

"I only ask because this makes no sense," Axista says, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Why do you want us to stay bonded?"

"The Pack Council and the elders require stability, and the territory is already whispering," Riven states, his silver-gray eyes locking onto hers. "We will give this mate bond a true chance."

"Because of the pack heralds and the rumors?" Axista's breath hitches. "You do not want me, Riven. You want my sister."

"Yes, the media and the elders are watching," Riven says, his jaw clenching. "But we owe it to the Thornevale lineage to see this through."

Axista shakes her head, her hands trembling as she grips her satchel. "No. Calista will find out, and she will tear my throat out. I will not play at being the Luna of the Ironmoon Keep."

"Six months, Axista," Riven commands, his raw, dominant aura filling the space. "That is all I ask."

"Six months?" she whispers, her wolf stirring with a dangerous, hopeful warmth she desperately tries to squash. "What does that mean?"

"We remain mated under pack law for six months," Riven says, stepping closer until she can smell his intoxicating scent of pine and dark forest rain. "You will move your things into the Alpha’s den at the Ironmoon Keep immediately."

"I have my own small room at the Silver Pelt Atelier," she protests, stepping back. "I do not belong in your den."

"The pack will suspect a sham if my Luna is nesting elsewhere," Riven snarls, his possessive instincts flaring. "Keep your little studio, but your bed is with me."

Axista remembers the only time she had ever been to his grand den for a pack ceremony. Calista had spent the entire night mocking her plain wool tunic and her weak, unshifted scent until Axista had run back to the woods in tears.

"This is madness," Axista mutters, looking down at her hands. "You are just trying to protect your reputation."

"It is survival, Axista," Riven says flatly. "We ride out the storm, and then we quietly dissolve the bond before the Moon High Tribunal."

"So you do not want me," she whispers, a sharp pain slicing through her chest. "This is just territory damage control."

"I want... I do not know what I want," Riven barks, turning away from her. "But we are bound now, and the entire Black Hollow Dominion is about to know."

"My family will never forgive me," Axista cries, her voice breaking. "Calista still believes you are her fated mate."

"Calista and I are finished," Riven growls, his eyes flashing wolf-gold. "And speaking of our bond, you need the mark of the Alpha's mate."

He pulls a small, dark velvet box from his desk drawer and snaps it open, revealing a heavy rose-gold band set with a midnight sapphire that glows with ancient lunar magic.

"What is that?" Axista asks, freezing.

"Your ring," Riven says, taking her small, cold hand in his massive, warm grasp. "Wear it."

"No," Axista gasps, trying to pull away. "You bought that sapphire for Calista. I will not wear her promised token."

"Axista, do not fight me on this," Riven warns, his grip tightening gently. "You are my Luna now. Act like it."

He slides the heavy ring onto her finger, and the sheer power of the Thornevale bloodline surges through her veins, warm and heavy. He then slides his own matching band onto his finger, his dark skin contrasting with the gleaming metal.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Axista whispers, tears finally spilling over her lashes.

"Because we have no other choice," Riven says, his voice suddenly thick. He hits the silver chime on his desk. "Iskar, get in here."

Iskar Venn steps into the study, her gaze immediately dropping to Axista’s hand before she sneers.

"Alpha?" Iskar asks, her voice tight.

"Draft the official pack declaration," Riven commands. "Axista Briarwyn is my true Luna. We mated at the Moon Oath Sanctum. Ensure the high-ranking families receive the notice by dusk."

Iskar’s jaw drops, her eyes wide with shock. "Axista? But she is... she has no wolf."

"She is my wife," Riven growls, his voice carrying a warning that makes Iskar bow her head instantly. "And she will be treated with the utmost respect."

"I will prepare the parchment, Alpha," Iskar says quietly, though her glare promises retribution the moment Riven is out of sight.

"Go to the Silver Pelt Atelier and gather your things, Axista," Riven says, turning back to her. "I will meet you there to tell your mother."

"Please, no," Axista begs. "Let me tell them alone."

"No," Riven says firmlyThe heavy scent of metallic blood and burning silver sliced through the air of the Silver Pelt Atelier, instantly suffocating the small office.

"I stared at him, not able to process what he'd said. 'What?'"

"I said that I want us to stay married."

"I got that," I gritted out, my hands clenching into fists as my inner wolf clawed at my ribs. "My question is why."

"I think we should give this marriage a chance," Riven continued.

If my eyes could bug out like they do in cartoons, they would.

Alpha Riven Thornevale saying he wanted to give marrying a weak, unshifted wolf like me a chance was a fantasy wrapped in a joke wrapped in massive heartbreak.

"Because of the pack media?"

"Yes. And... maybe we owe ourselves the opportunity to explore this."

I shook my head.

Hell no!

I might be the invisible sister of the Briarwyn pack, but I wasn't going to torture myself by pretending to be the true Luna of the Black Hollow Dominion to a man who didn't want me.

"Look, we both know that you and Calista will get back together," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "You always do. I shouldn't have taken advantage of your heat."

He leaned back in his heavy timber chair, his silver eyes flashing with dominant power. "Six months."

"What?"

"Axista, I can't keep repeating myself."

I raised an eyebrow. "What does six months mean?"

He smiled, a dangerous, predatory curve of his lips. "I want us to stay married for six months. Move in with me at the Keep, and—"

"No," I rejected immediately. "I like my cabin. I have my easel and my pelt dyes there, and—"

"Keep your cabin; but you'll move into my den. The pack heralds will tear our reputations apart if we are not sharing a bed."

Riven lived on the top floor of the Ironmoon Keep.

I'd only been to his den once, for a great midwinter hunt feast, and miraculously, I'd been invited.

Calista had made sure I left within fifteen minutes by complaining incessantly to the other high-ranking females about my plain wool tunic.

She had been right; a she-wolf without a shifted form didn't fit in with the elite of the Black Hollow Dominion.

"I don't understand any of this."

I wanted to beat my head against his stone desk until my skull cracked.

"It's quite simple, Axista. We stay married until the pack gossip dies down, then we get a quiet dissolution of the mate bond, and... that's that."

"How long will that take?" I asked, my voice barely a squeak.

"Give or take six months."

"So, you don't want to give this marriage a chance? You just want us to ride out the pack politics?"

He was confusing the hell out of my wolf, making her whine in my chest.

"I do... I... don't know. Look, Axista, it is what it is. Let's make the best of it."

Make the best of what?

I could hear him, but my mind was spinning too fast to process his deep, rumbling tone.

Was I supposed to read between the lines of an Alpha's decree?

"I don't get it, Riven. I'm telling you that you were out of your mind with wolf-whiskey and mating rage, and—"

"Whatever the reasons may be. We swore the blood oath at the Moon Oath Sanctum, and the high council knows."

"Riven, please. My parents and Calista will hate me."

"Calista and I are not getting back together," he said firmly, his jaw tight. "I don't understand your problem. Do you have a rogue suitor?"

"No."

"Obviously not, because you were a goddamn virgin," he growled, his gaze dropping to my mouth, his scent flaring with a sudden, dark possessiveness that made my core throb.

"Speaking of obvious, you and Calista always mate-bond after a fight. She was just here," I cried out. "She still thinks of you as her Alpha. She told my mother you two were finalizing the blood contract. You even bought a runed collar for her."

She didn't tell me, she told Mother Orielle—I just overheard them in the atelier.

"Speaking of runes." He growled, reaching into his oak drawer. "We need matching bands."

He placed three small velvet boxes on the desk.