ขังรักมังกรไร้ปีก

Chapter One

The gates swung open at dusk. 

Gianna heard the patrol return before she saw it –  boots on gravel, wolves shifting back to skin, the familiar chaos of Valemont's warriors coming home.

She was standing on the upper terrace with a glass of wine when she saw Cyrus walk through the main gate.

He wasn't alone.

A woman walked beside him – young with dark hair loose around her shoulders. 

She was wearing Cyrus's spare patrol jacket – the grey one Gianna had picked out for him last winter – and she was looking up at him the way a dog looks at the person holding its leash. 

Like he was the only solid thing in the world.

Cyrus wasn't pushing her away.

Gianna set her wine glass down very carefully on the stone railing.

She walked downstairs.

By the time she reached the courtyard, Cyrus had already stopped walking. He stood at the center of the stone yard with the woman still at his side, talking to Beta Francisabout something that clearly wasn't important enough to finish, because the moment he saw Gianna's face, he stopped.

"Who is she?" Gianna asked with no greeting or preamble. She was looking directly at Cyrus.

Cyrus's jaw tightened. "Her name is Pietra. She's a she-wolf I found during patrol. She has nowhere to go." He paused. "She'll be staying here."

The courtyard had gone quiet. Three packmates who'd been crossing toward the barracks had slowed without stopping, pretending they weren't listening.

Gianna looked at Pietra.

Pietra looked back at her with wide, careful eyes that knew exactly what they were doing.

"She'll be staying," Gianna repeated. "Here. In Valemont. In my house."

"In the pack house," Cyrus said. "Yes."

"Cyrus." Gianna's voice came out low and very controlled. "I am Luna of Valemont. You don't bring a woman through those gates without telling me. You don't bring anyone through those gates without –"

"I don't answer to you."

He said it flatly, like it was a fact he'd grown tired of having to state.

Gianna felt heat crawl up the back of her neck. 

"You answer to this pack. And this pack has a Luna. And what you're doing right now is bringing a woman into her home and telling her to deal with it, and I am telling you I will not –"

"I've been dealing with you for two years." Cyrus stepped forward. His voice didn't rise. 

That was somehow worse – it stayed exactly level, like she wasn't worth the energy of real anger. "Two years of your tantrums. Two years of you treating every Omega in this house like they're beneath you, of you making every decision based on what you want, of you turning this Luna role into your personal throne." He stopped two feet from her. "I am done negotiating with you, Gianna."

Pietra's fingers curled around Cyrus's forearm.

"Should I not have come?" she asked softly but loud enough for everyone to hear, "I'm sorry, Cyrus. Luna seems upset. Maybe I should –"

"Don't." Cyrus turned to her immediately. He covered her hand with his. "You're not going anywhere. I said you were welcome here, and you are." He glanced back at Gianna with eyes that had gone cold again. "Don't be afraid. She won't do anything."

She won't do anything.

Gianna stood very still.

He turned his back on her and walked toward the door, Pietra tucked against his side.

Gianna crossed the courtyard in four steps and planted herself in the doorway with both hands on the frame, blocking the entrance. Her pulse was hammering. Her wolf was screaming.

"You will not walk past me," she said. "Not with her. Not like this. I am Luna of this pack and you will –"

Cyrus's hand shot out and shoved her aside. Gianna's heel caught the edge of the first step.

She fell backwards.

The back of her skull hit the stone staircase with a crack that silenced every sound in the courtyard.

Then there was nothing.

***

The first thing Gianna saw when she opened her eyes was the stone ceiling. Then, the unfamiliar tapestry on the wall and a window showing a sky that had gone full dark.

She was in a bed. Someone had moved her.

She had absolutely no idea where she was.

She sat up slowly, pressing one hand to the back of her head. A lump the size of a walnut had formed just above her neck. 

She winced, pulled her hand away, and looked around the room carefully, trying to piece together the puzzle of how she had ended up in this unfamiliar bedroom. 

Just then, the door burst open.

A young Omega woman rushed in, her face pale, her hands already wringing together before she'd even reached the bed. She stopped when she saw Gianna sitting up, and she looked relieved.

"Luna." She pressed her hands together. "Luna, you're awake. The healer said to send for him immediately when you –"

"What's your name?" Gianna asked.

The Omega blinked. "I – Evelyn . My name is Evelyn . I've been your personal servant for eight months, Luna."

"Evelyn ." Gianna filed that away. "What pack is this?"

Evelyn 's mouth opened, then closed.

"Valemont," she said slowly. "Luna, do you... do you remember anything?"

Gianna considered the question honestly. She remembered waking up. She remembered pain. Before that — nothing. 

"No," she said.

Evelyn  looked like she might faint.

"All right." Gianna held up one hand. "Don't panic. Just talk. Who am I?"

"You're Gianna." Evelyn 's voice was barely steady. "Luna of Valemont. You've been married to Alpha Cyrus for two years."

Cyrus.

Something about that name produced a faint, unpleasant sensation. 

"And this Alpha Cyrus," Gianna said carefully. "Who is he to me exactly?"

"Your husband." Evelyn  hesitated. "He's – Luna, he's the one who –" She stopped.

"Who what?" 

Evelyn 's eyes dropped to the floor.

Gianna decided not to push that thread yet. "Is there something happening in the house right now? Something I should know about?"

Evelyn  looked up. In her face, behind the fear, there was something that looked very much like desperate hope – like she was waiting for Gianna to explode so she could point her somewhere useful.

"The woman," Evelyn  said carefully. "The one Alpha Cyrus brought back. The pack doesn't know what to do. Do you want us to remove her? Or –"

"What's her name?"

"Pietra."

"And Cyrus brought her here himself? To live?"

"Yes, Luna. He said –" Evelyn  stopped again.

"Say it."

"He said she's his fated mate."

Gianna sat with that for a moment.

She pressed two fingers to her temple. The headache pulsed steadily, like a second heartbeat.

Fated mate. So this Cyrus married me – a non-fated mate – and has now brought his actual fated mate home to live in the same house. Charming man.

She thought about it practically. She was, apparently, the daughter of some Alpha. She had money, status, a family to return to. This Cyrus person had shoved her down a flight of stairs.

She was aware she should feel something violent about this. A righteous, burning fury.

But what she felt was far away from that, "Evelyn ," she said.

"Yes, Luna?"

"I want every Omega in the house assembled in the next ten minutes."

Evelyn  blinked. "To – to remove Pietra? Because I can send for the guard if you want to make it official, or your father always said –"

"No." Gianna pulled back the blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The room tilted slightly but she breathed through it. "To prepare a welcome."

Silence.

"A... welcome," Evelyn  repeated.

"The Alpha has found his fated mate. That's cause for celebration." Gianna stood up carefully, one hand on the bedpost. "I want the guest room on the east wing prepared – fresh linens, flowers, the good candles. I want a proper dinner laid out. And –" she paused, thinking, " –I want someone to go into my wardrobe and find the nicest sets of lingerie I own, and put them in Cyrus's bedroom. Several sets. Along with whatever the house keeps for... romantic evenings." She waved a hand. "Aphrodisiacs, whatever we have."

Evelyn  was staring at her.

"Luna."

"They're fated mates," Gianna said patiently. "They should have a proper wedding night. We should be helpful."

"You hit your head," Evelyn  whispered, as if this explained everything and also nothing.

"I did." Gianna walked carefully to the wardrobe and began sorting through dresses with one hand, the other still pressed to the lump on her skull. "Evelyn . I want you to think about something. I am apparently the daughter of a Highmoon Alpha. I have a father with power and resources who loves me. I have money of my own, position of my own, and a pack I was born into." She pulled out a silk robe and held it up. "Why, exactly, would I waste a single drop of energy fighting over a man who pushed me down a flight of stairs?"

Evelyn  opened her mouth and closed it.

"Get the Omegas," Gianna said. "And tell the kitchen I want a full meal sent up here as well. Something with meat. I'm starving."

She sat down at the vanity and looked at her reflection.

Objectively beautiful, she noted, with the detached appreciation of someone looking at a painting. High cheekbones. Dark eyes. A bruise forming along the left side of her jaw she hadn't noticed until now.

So. Valemont. A husband who hates me. A mistress who thinks she's already won.

She tilted her head at her own reflection.

She'd think about that one tomorrow.

Tonight, she was going to eat an enormous meal, get a proper massage, and sleep in what was clearly a very expensive bed.

One problem at a time.

She reached for the hairbrush and began to work through the knots in her hair.