CHAPTER 1: He Doesn't Love You

NARAYA

“Do you really think he would choose you over the Pack?” Zilla growled, stomping up the stairs behind me. Her fingers tightened around the flower basket.

My jaw clenched.

Tonight had to be flawless.

After three months away, Alpha Roger—my mate, and the Pack's pride, was finally returning home. While the central square buzzed with guards and elders preparing a massive public welcome, I wanted to give him a private one.

I took the remaining stairs two at a time and skidded to a stop. The BloodMoon crest carved into Roger's double doors whispered both power and authority.

A growl burned in my throat.

“Please, Zilla,” I forced her name through my teeth. “Just this once... be supportive.”

“Supportive?” she hissed. 

“Raya, this man disappeared for months and barely called. The entire Pack is acting like a hero is returning from war, and the best way you can think to welcome him is this?”

Heat flared up the back of my neck as her mouth kept moving.

Of course Zilla didn't get it.

How could she?

She had never felt the mate bond snap into place. Never had her wolf howl for someone else's.

A copy of the Northern Pack treaty tucked under my arm needed only Roger’s final signature.

The treaty had taken weeks of endless drafting. Weeks of Zilla telling me I'd fail. Weeks of her saying the dark circles under my eyes meant nothing—that all my work for the man fate bound me to love was in vain. But that wasn't why I was here tonight. And her words only poked at me as I faced his door.

“You’re talking like he’s been away on vacation,” I murmured, finally turning the key. The heavy lock clicked open. “Roger was out there negotiating a treaty to protect our borders. Our own Pack.”

“This is madness, Raya,” she huffed, arms crossed. “Twenty-first-century madness.”

A sigh escaped my lips. I flung the keys onto the entryway console table, the clattering sound echoing through the space. Next, I dumped the document onto the large mahogany table that separated the foyer from the main living room. The basket Zilla dropped by the door greeted me with fresh flowers. I grabbed it from the floor.

“This is love, not madness. Well, you'd understand if you had yourself a man.”

Zilla's arms stayed folded, her gaze fixed on the gardens beyond the window.

I stepped closer. “Zilla, please. Do this... for me?” I muttered, flashing her my best puppy eyes.

“Raya.” Her arms fell to her sides. Then, without a word, she plucked a thorn from the roses.

“Can't you see?”

She strode to the table, poured a shot from the half-empty liquor bottle, downed it in one go, and slammed the glass down.

“Alpha Roger? He doesn't love you.” Her gaze dropped to my coat pocket, to the velvet box holding a ring bought with the last of my savings. “If he did... he should've been the one going down on one knee, not you.”

“Roger loves me,” I snapped, instinctively lowering my hand into my pocket. Hadn't he crossed three Pack borders just to make it back before my birthday ended?

Zilla always had a problem with Roger. It was either how he related to people, his personality, or what's not.

“It doesn't matter who does the proposing,” I shot back, moving to rearrange the candles. “We are fated mates. We're bound to get married one day or another.”

She scoffed.

“Just hear yourself, Raya. You sound like a pathetic desperate bitch who wants to be bound to a worthless he-wolf.”

My teeth clenched. Nails dug into my palms until they drew blood. “Excuse me?”

“How many more red flags do you need to see to know Roger isn't good for you?” Her voice went flat. “Fine! He might be an Alpha. Powerful. But that's not good enough.”

“Maybe when you finally get a mate for yourself, I might actually listen,” I retorted, pulling over the flowers to get on with my decorations.

“Five years.” Her laugh was hollow. “Five fucking years, and you're still making excuses for him?”

A tremor ran through my hand.

Why was she doing this tonight? Why did Zilla choose the most important night of my life to get on my nerves? I mean, she should have just declined when I asked her to help.

I raked a hand through my hair.

“If you don't respect him as my boyfriend, can you at least do that because he's your Alpha?”

“Tsk.” She turned away. “You're impossible.”

I closed the distance between us, resting my hands on hers.

“Roger explained that!” My pulse kicked against my throat, loud enough that I was sure Zilla could hear it. “He needed an alliance with the Northern Alpha. You know she wouldn't have signed the treaty if she knew he was claimed.”

Silence.

“It was politics, Zilla. He did it for the Pack. And my mate is not a cheat! So stop all your insinuations.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Is there really nothing I can say to change your mind?”

I straightened, wiping an invisible speck of dust off her shirt.

“No.”

“My mind is made up. I am getting married to Alpha Roger. He is my fated mate. He makes me feel happy and loved, and there's nothing anybody does that's going to change how I feel about him. Not you, not even the Moon Goddess.”

“Alright. Fine! Fine!” She dragged a hand down her face. “Let him propose to you at least.”

A sharp, humourless laugh ripped through my throat.

“With what time? Between border disputes and the deal with the Northern Pack? I doubt he even has time to rest.” I adjusted another candle, my fingers lingering in the heat. “He said he wanted to propose once things calmed down. That's why I'm doing this.”

Zilla heaved a deep breath, and after a few seconds, crouched to help with the flowers. “I just hope you wouldn't someday regret this decision of yours.”

My lips curled upward into a smile.

“I won't!”

The rest of the evening went by in a blur. Roger's home had been transformed into a cozy, romantic spot, with red petals and scented candles scattered in strategic places.

Zilla's phone chimed. It was her mother. She left shortly after.

Ahh. Thank goodness.

I wasn't about to have some bad energy around while proposing to the love of my life.

A small chuckle left my lips as the customised white-gold band greeted my eyes. Roger was sure going to love this.

I made myself comfortable on the couch, thoughts of romantic songs to play for the moment clouding my mind.

Wait... I should actually bake a cake. My eyes landed on the clock. Damn. I raced into the kitchen.

“Shit!”

If only I hadn't spent so much time arguing with Zilla.

After searching frantically through his kitchen cabinets, I found no flour and no butter. Dammit! The cabinet door hit the frame with a crack.

I returned to the sitting room, collapsed into a chair, and played a soft romantic tune. Roger wasn't much of a cake person. I exhaled through my nose.

***

The moon was clearly visible in the sky, and Roger was nowhere to be found. 

By nine p.m., the playlist had looped twice. By ten, half the candles had drowned in wax. Thirty minutes later, I found myself pacing the perimeter of his living room. 

Had his trip been delayed? 

Did something happen on the borders?

A knot formed in my stomach. My thumb hovering over his name on my speed dial.

No!

This was meant to be a surprise.

I bit the inside of my mouth until I tasted something metallic, tossing my phone deep between the couch cushions. I forced myself to stare at the flickering candles until sleep clawed its hands over me.

The sound of Roger's Bentley Bentayga pulled me out of sleep.

It was past twelve.

His key worked through the door. I heard traces of his voice. His laughter. Then, sharp and commanding.

“Goodness. Why are the lights off?”

“Surprise!” I yelled, flipping the lights back on. But the breath in my throat trapped violently at the sight before me.

Standing in the doorway wasn't just my mate.

Flanked at his sides were two pups, their hands sticky with ice cream. They couldn't have been older than three. They had Roger’s exact striking silver eyes. His exact jet-black hair.

My gaze drifted from their faces to his.

That was when one of the children looked up at Roger, pointing a small finger at me.

“Daddy? Who's this woman?”