AellaI look at the man I thought I fell for, and all I see is the monster I tried to run away from.“You’re right, though,” I say, scoffing and struggling to maintain composure after those words. “I didn’t hate Jay, a figment of your twisted imagination. You, Roman, I loathe. I will never forgive you for what you did to me.”“I don’t need your forgiveness,” he says, his voice colder than I’ve ever heard it. “You can hate me all you want. Be my wife, bear my children, and open your legs when needed and satisfy me. That’s all I require.”His words feel like they physically assault me. Disbelief, rage, and humiliation are all vying for my attention and overwhelming me. He’s stripping away the romanticism from our relationship and turning it into a business transaction. “I will never be your Luna, or your wife,” I say, locking eyes with him. It’s a futile attempt to break through his icy exterior, but I can’t stop myself.He sighs and moves away from me. “I think you misunderstand the s

AellaToday is supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life, or so the seamstress tells me as she flits around me like a fairy godmother, making sure the wedding dress fits perfectly. I’m standing in front of the floor-length mirror, and for a second, I can appreciate the artistry of the gown—its intricate lace, the delicate beadwork, and the soft glow of the ivory fabric. “You look absolutely stunning, my Luna-to-be,” the seamstress gushes, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “I’ll give you a few moments to yourself.” With that, she sweeps out of the room, leaving me alone with my reflection.It’s a beautiful dress, a masterpiece really, but it’s for a life I never chose. The soft fabric clings to my body, adorned with intricate lace designs that seem almost too beautiful for this moment, too pure for what it’s about to signify.I stare at myself, noticing how much of a stranger I look like now. For two years I had my blonde dyed black. But that color has been stripped, so

AellaThe moment we step into the car, a silent void envelops us, a hallowed tension that swallows any words I might have considered saying. Roman sits beside me, his eyes forward, his posture rigid and his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He’s lost in thought. So am I.The engine hums a monotonous tune, blending with the distant chirping of evening crickets. My mind races, churning thoughts that won’t settle. Roman, my husband; the word still feels foreign on my tongue. “Husband.” The heaviness of the word settles on my chest, and I find it hard to breathe.The leather of the car seat sticks to the back of my gown, making me uncomfortably aware of the layers of fabric encasing me. I glance at Roman, wondering what he’s thinking. Does he sense my apprehension, my trepidation about the night that lies ahead? Tonight’s expectations wrap around me like invisible chains, chafing my very essence. The very word “duties” leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. And yet, duty is what b

Aella As I walk down the corridor, each step feels like a battle against myself. What am I even doing? Questioning my Alpha, the very man who rules the entire pack, about my role? Still, something compels me to press on. It’s been two weeks and I’ve done nothing; just hosting dinner parties while scowling at him.I’m done sidelining myself, done being the Luna who’s seen but not heard. My upbringing, my training; it all screams for me to be more involved, to understand the inner workings of the pack I’m now a part of.The door to Roman’s office is deceptively simple—a polished wooden barrier that stands as the last line of defense between his world of pack politics and high-stakes decisions, and the rest of the estate. Every time I’ve stood before it, hand poised to knock, my heart has drummed out a rhythm of uncertainty and anticipation.I’m about to give up again when I hear his voice and my heart leaps into my throat. “Come inside, Aella.”Of course, he knew I was here.Swallowing

AellaInside the black SUV, the silence is almost eerie. I sit with my hands resting on my lap, staring out at the blurred pine trees whisking by through the tinted windows. It’s as if the world outside exists on a different plane, far removed from the storm of emotions surging within me. The SUV’s leather seats, the quiet hum of its engine, the soft breeze from the AC—all of it feels surreal in the aftermath of what I’ve just witnessed. What we’ve just done.Roman sits across from me, separated by the narrow aisle of the car, but it might as well be a mile for how distant he seems. He’s on his phone again, the deep baritone of his voice rhythmic and fluid as he speaks in Russian. He’s all focus, intensity, authority. I shouldn’t find it as attractive as I do, but there’s no denying the heat that rises within me at the sound. He looks gorgeous today, even more so without a shirt now. And I hate myself for noticing, for caring, for feeling anything other than the detached respect owe