Chapter 3: The Morning After the Moon (1)

The fated bond wakes me before dawn.

It's not gentle. It's urgent—a golden thread wrapped around my ribs, pulling tight, dragging me toward Lucian's quarters with the same inevitability as breathing. The legends promised this. The need to be near your mate. The physical ache of separation that only touch can soothe.

I dress quickly in a simple blue dress, my fingers clumsy with anticipation. Today is our first morning as acknowledged mates. I'll surprise him with breakfast. We'll talk about the mating ceremony, about our future, about—

The bond pulls, and I follow.

The pack compound is quiet at this hour. Most wolves are still sleeping off last night's celebration. I pass the communal kitchens, the training grounds, heading toward the Alpha's residential wing with my heart hammering against my ribs.

A young Beta named Garrett sees me and his expression shifts—pity mixed with discomfort. He looks away quickly.

My steps slow. Why would he pity me?

The strange floral scent from last night grows stronger as I near Lucian's door. Jasmine and vanilla. Diana's scent. My sister's signature scent that she cultivates with expensive oils and—

No.

The bond in my chest twists sideways. Wrong. Something is wrong.

Lucian's door is unlocked. It swings open under my shaking hand.

The room smells like sex and jasmine and Alpha musk, and my brain tries to reject what my eyes are showing me because it's impossible—

Lucian is in bed with Diana.

Their bodies are tangled in silk sheets. Her dark hair spills across his bare chest. His arm is wrapped around her waist, possessive and intimate, and as the door creaks, her eyes open first.

She sees me.

And she smiles.

"Good morning, sister." Diana's voice is honey-sweet poison. "Did you sleep well?"

The fated bond screams. It's like someone's carved my chest open with a dull blade, scraping against ribs, tearing through muscle. I can't breathe. Can't think. The golden thread that felt so perfect twelve hours ago is now barbed wire wrapped around my lungs.

Lucian jerks awake. Pulls away from Diana. But his face—

Guilt. Not horror. Not the expression of an innocent man who made a drunken mistake.

Guilt.

"Selene." His voice is rough with sleep and something else. Resignation, maybe. "You weren't supposed to—this isn't—"

"What did you do?" I hear myself ask. My voice sounds distant. Broken. "We're fated mates. The Moon Goddess chose us. You can't—this doesn't—"

Diana sits up, letting the sheet fall strategically away from her body. Marking her territory. "Oh, Selene. Sweet, naive Selene. Did you really think Lucian would bind himself to someone as weak as you?"

My wolf claws at my insides, howling betrayal. The perfect Omega conditioning that's ruled my entire life fractures under the weight of what I'm seeing.

"I came to comfort him last night," Diana continues, her tone almost conversational. "After the ceremony. He was having... doubts. About binding himself to an Omega who can barely shift. Who's never led a hunt. Who's useful for cooking and cleaning and—"

"Diana, that's enough." Lucian's command lacks conviction.