The palace of Blackstone Keep had never known such silence.
Every corridor shimmered with banners of black and silver, the crest of the Veylor line stitched in threads that glittered like moonlight. Hundreds of nobles filled the grand hall, their whispers echoing against the high vaulted ceiling as though the stones themselves could taste the tension thick in the air. Tonight was not just a wedding—it was a binding of kingdoms, the unthinkable tethering of land and sea.
At the center of it all stood Dominic Veylor, Alpha King, cloaked in black ceremonial armor chased with gold. A crown of obsidian rested on his head, and his eyes—those burning silver wolf's eyes—never strayed from the double doors that would soon open to admit his bride. His shoulders bore the weight of kingdoms, yet in that moment the only weight he truly felt was the bond searing beneath his skin, pulling him toward the one woman fate had chosen for him.
The woman he should hate.
Seraphina Nereida.
The double doors opened with a groan like thunder.
She entered, swathed in white silk that spilled like liquid moonlight across the marble floor. Her hair, an impossible shade of midnight blue kissed with silver, cascaded in loose waves over her bare shoulders. Around her throat shimmered a necklace of pearls, and upon her head rested a delicate crown of seashell and coral, the mark of her royal heritage.
Every eye turned. Gasps rang through the crowd. She was breathtaking, otherworldly—the very embodiment of the sea itself.
But Dominic's jaw clenched.
He could feel her the moment she stepped across the threshold. The mate bond roared in his blood, demanding, aching, hungry. His wolf snarled inside him, desperate to claim what was his. His body reacted with violent betrayal—heat coiled low, muscles tensed, breath shortened. He despised her for it. He despised himself even more.
Their gazes locked across the hall.
Her sapphire eyes flashed with defiance, a spark of fire in an ocean's depth. There was no fear, no submission—only a proud tilt of her chin, as though daring him to come closer, daring him to bind his fate to hers.
The officiant's voice broke through the thick silence.
"By decree of the Council of Wolves and the High Court of the Sea, this union shall bring peace to our lands. Today, Alpha King Dominic Veylor of the Lycans, and Princess Seraphina Nereida of the Merfolk, shall be bound in marriage before the gods."
Whispers swelled. Some spoke in awe, others in disgust. Wolves and mer alike stared, their hatred not so easily quelled by ceremony.
Dominic's fists flexed at his sides.
He stepped forward, towering over Seraphina as she reached the altar. She did not flinch. Their proximity sent lightning crackling between them, the mate bond clawing at their skin, pressing them toward one another.
"Do you, Alpha Dominic, swear to protect your mate, to honor her as wife and queen, until death?" the officiant intoned.
Dominic's silver eyes narrowed. His voice was a blade.
"I swear to protect my kingdom. Nothing more."
A ripple of shock coursed through the hall. The words were not refusal, but they were far from devotion.
The officiant hesitated, but the law was clear—an oath was an oath, even one twisted into venom.
"And do you, Princess Seraphina, swear to stand by your mate, to honor him as husband and king, until death?"
Her gaze never left Dominic's.
"I swear to honor the bond the gods forced upon me," she said, her voice steady as stone. "But my soul will never bow."
Gasps again. The audacity of a bride to speak such words before the Alpha King. Yet there was no mistaking the truth in her tone—she would never be cowed.
The officiant swallowed, raised his hands.
"By the decree of the gods, the bond is sealed. You are husband and wife."
The hall erupted in a clash of cheers and mutters. Some wolves howled approval, others spat curses. The merfolk delegation stared coldly, their princess given away like a bargaining chip.
And then came the voice that cut through the clamor like poisoned honey.
"How touching," purred Princess Lyanna.
She stepped from the crowd, a vision in crimson silk, her golden hair braided into a crown of jewels. She was the daughter of one of Dominic's strongest allied packs, beautiful, proud, and utterly dangerous. For years she had stood at his side, certain she would one day be his queen. And now—replaced by a sea witch.
Her smile was all venom.
"May the gods bless this union," she said sweetly, bowing low, though her eyes burned with hatred for Seraphina. "Though I wonder… can a creature of the sea truly survive on land? Or will she drown in the air before she ever warms the Alpha's bed?"
Snickers rippled through the wolves.
Seraphina's lips curved into a sharp smile.
"Do not worry, Princess. Unlike some, I do not beg for scraps of affection. If the Alpha does not wish to warm me, I assure you—I will not freeze."
The crowd gasped, scandalized by her audacity.
Lyanna's face flushed crimson. Her nails bit into her palms. She would not forget this.
Dominic said nothing, though his wolf growled at the exchange. He turned, took Seraphina's arm in a grip that was firm, almost punishing, and led her down the aisle as husband and wife.
---
The wedding feast was a blur of noise and clamor. Nobles drank and laughed, while wolves whispered behind cups and goblets. Dominic sat at the head of the table, silent, watching the hall with the cold calculation of a predator. Beside him sat Seraphina, regal and untouchable, sipping wine as though she had not just been chained to her enemy.
She did not look at him. Not once.
It infuriated him.
He was her husband now, her king, her mate—and yet she sat as though he did not exist. As though she were not bound to him by blood and destiny. His wolf paced violently within him, snarling to bend her to his will, to force her acknowledgment.
But Dominic Veylor did not bend to fate. He commanded it.
When the feast ended, when the candles burned low and the hall emptied, he rose without a word and led her through the dark corridors to his chambers.
The air thickened.
Every servant they passed bowed low, but their eyes lingered, curious, eager to see what would become of the Alpha and his unwilling bride. Rumors had already spread that the marriage was cold, loveless, forged in politics and hatred. Tonight would prove the truth.
He opened the door to his chambers and motioned her inside.
The room was vast, with walls of black stone and furs draped across the bed. A fire roared in the hearth, casting shadows that danced across the ceiling. It smelled of cedar and smoke and wolf musk—a den, a cage.
Seraphina stepped inside with the grace of a queen. She touched nothing, her posture unyielding.
Dominic shut the door behind them, the sound final, like the closing of a cell.
He advanced slowly, each step a predator's stalk.
Her breath quickened, though she hid it well. The bond thrummed between them, demanding closeness, demanding touch. His gaze roved over her—the delicate line of her throat, the swell of her breasts beneath silk, the curve of her waist. His body ached, his wolf clawing for release.
But he stopped mere inches from her, looming, his heat enveloping her.
"You are mine by law, Seraphina," he said, voice low, rough, dangerous. "But do not mistake this marriage for love. You will bear my crown, not my heart. You will stand at my side, not in my bed. Do you understand?"
Her sapphire eyes met his with fire.
"You think I long to be touched by a wolf?" she whispered, voice laced with venom. "I would sooner drown on dry land."
His jaw tightened. His wolf roared.
For a moment, he almost snapped, almost gave in to the bond that begged him to claim her, to crush her against him until there was no space left between their bodies. His hand hovered, trembling, inches from her face.
But he pulled back.
He turned away sharply, shoving his desire into the iron cage of his will.
"You will sleep here," he said coldly, motioning toward the bed. "I will not touch you. Not until you beg for it."
Seraphina's laugh was soft, deadly.
"Then your bed will remain cold forever."
She slipped past him, silk trailing like waves, and climbed onto the bed with regal defiance. She lay down, turning her back to him, dismissing him as though he were a servant.
Dominic stood there, fists clenched, chest heaving. His wolf howled in fury, in need, in hunger.
The fire cracked, shadows danced, and the silence between them was thick with everything unsaid—desire, hate, temptation, and fate.
The Alpha King had taken his bride.
But the war between them had only just begun.