chapter 8

Lucia POV

“Your Majesty… did you hear that?”

My whisper was so thin, so fragile, it felt as though the frigid air in the room would shatter it into pieces. My fingers trembled against my collarbone, right over the raised, burning seal on my throat that still pulsed in a slow, agonized cadence.

King Damian remained utterly frozen before me. His massive shoulders were rigid, his chest heaving under heavy, erratic breaths as he stared at me with silver eyes that churned like a tempestuous sea. But he said nothing. His silence was a wall of solid ice, thick and unyielding, built to keep out the very truth that was screaming through the mate bond between us.

He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to admit that the divine threads woven by the Moon Goddess had tied his royal soul to a broken, mute omega.

If he won't say it, I thought, a sudden, desperate flame flickering within the hollow chambers of my heart, then I will. I have to. I cannot keep surviving as a ghost in his shadow, enduring the venom of his words, being branded as trash.

I took a shaky step forward, gathering every fragment of courage left in my battered spirit. I raised my hands into the dim moonlight, my movements precise and sharp, pairing my signs with the breathy, strained rasp of my vocal cords.

“Your wolf… he said I am your mate,” I completed my words, looking directly into his fierce, unreadable eyes.

For one agonizing second, time seemed to stop. The heavy silence between us stretched like a taut wire ready to snap.

Then, a cold, mocking smirk twisted his dark, chiseled lips.

“And you actually think that is true?” he asked, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble that cut straight through the air.

“Yes,” I said, summoning a bravery I didn't know I possessed, standing tall despite the terror making my knees knock together. “I felt it. I heard him.”

King Damian threw his head back and let out a dry, venomous laugh—a sound entirely devoid of warmth or joy. He took a heavy, imposing step toward me, closing the distance until his shadow completely swallowed my small, shivering frame. His terrifying alpha pressure rained down on my shoulders, threatening to force me to my knees.

“Are you out of your mind?” he rasped, his silver eyes flashing with a lethal, dark intensity as he bent down, bringing his face inches from mine. “Have you lost your senses, little girl? I have already seen my real mate. I have already held her. I marked her years ago, in a night of sacred fire—marked her in the exact same way I marked you!”

The words felt like sharp, jagged glass being forced down my throat. My breath hitched, my eyes stinging as tears welled at the rims.

“She is my real wife-to-be,” Damian spat, his tone laced with absolute, unyielding conviction. “She is the woman I bled for. She is the queen meant for this throne! And you… you are nothing more than my unwanted wife! So do not get your hopes high. Do not entertain foolish, arrogant fantasies in that pathetic head of yours. You are not my mate!”

“Then why—” I tried to sign, my hands shaking so violently I could barely form the shapes, “why did your wolf—”

“My wolf is confused!” Damian interrupted, his baritone voice exploding into a furious roar that shook the very foundation of the stone room. “My beast speaks out of turn because he senses the mark on your neck! He smells the residual magic, and he mistakes you for her! That is the only reason he is disturbing my peace!”

He towered over me, his face carved into a mask of pure, towering fury, his chest expanding with ragged, dangerous gasps.

The last fragile spark of hope inside my chest flickered and died, leaving behind nothing but cold, gray ashes. The pain was so intense it felt as though my ribs had caved in, crushing my heart into dust. He would rather convince himself his own wolf was insane than accept that I was the woman meant for him.

“Okay, Your Majesty,” I whispered softly, letting my arms drop lifelessly to my sides.

I turned away from him, refusing to let him see the hot, bitter tears finally breaking past my lashes and streaming down my face. I walked slowly back to the corner of the cold, dark room, lowered my trembling body back onto the bare, freezing floorboards, and pulled my knees tightly against my chest.

Damian’s heavy boots echoed against the wood as he stepped back toward the edge of his massive bed. He looked down at my small, curled form on the bare floor, his voice dropping into a final, deadly decree that echoed through the shadows.

“Don't ever tell me that you are my Luna,” he growled, his voice laced with ultimate rejection. “Because you can never be her.”