The dawn after her wedding night crept into the Alpha King's chambers with pale fingers of light. The great wolf banners stirred faintly in the draft, their gold embroidery glowing as the sun climbed. For Seraphina, the sight was not comforting. She sat upright on the edge of the bed, her back rigid, her silver hair spilling like moonlight down her shoulders. The silken sheets were tangled about her waist, but they offered no warmth.
The man who had sworn to protect her before gods and kingdoms had not touched her—at least, not in the way a husband should. Dominic Veylor had entered the chamber, his eyes hard as tempered steel, and after issuing a single command—You will sleep on this side, and I on mine—he had lain down, turned his back, and given her nothing more.
For the daughter of a king, for the mate of an Alpha, the humiliation was bitter. Yet she would not weep where walls could hear.
She rose when the light sharpened against the stones. Every motion was deliberate, a queen's discipline stitched into her bones. She pulled the pale blue gown provided by the palace seamstresses over her skin. The fabric was fine, but it felt like a costume, the garb of someone else's world. She tied the sash with careful precision, hiding the tremor in her fingers.
Behind her, a sound broke the stillness: the scrape of claws against stone.
Dominic stirred, shifting on the bed. He sat upright, the dawn gilding his hair and sharpening the edges of his face. His golden eyes fixed on her back, and with their gaze came the thrum of the mate bond, quickening like a second heartbeat inside her chest.
Seraphina froze. Her body betrayed her pride, yearning toward him as though the bond itself were a tide pulling at her shore. She turned, defiance masking the pull, and found him watching her with a look that was not cold, not entirely.
The silence between them crackled. Dominic rose to his feet, his frame casting a shadow across the chamber. His breathing shifted, deeper, heavier, as though he warred with something unseen. He moved closer, each step sending a tremor through the tether that bound them.
For one suspended moment, his lips hovered a breath away from hers. His eyes flicked down, molten gold softening with a hunger he could not disguise. Seraphina's chest rose sharply, her body caught between dread and desire. The bond howled, urging her to close the distance.
But then he tore himself back. His claws unsheathed with a metallic hiss, gouging faint scratches into the bedpost he gripped. His chest heaved as though he had pulled himself from the edge of a precipice.
"You should not tempt me," Dominic rasped. His voice was low, ragged, the wolf just beneath the surface. "This bond does not make us allies. It only shackles us in chains I never asked for."
Seraphina's eyes narrowed, fury flashing in their silver depths. "Do you think I asked for this, wolf?" she spat, stepping forward until only inches separated them. "I was bartered like coin, wrenched from my father's halls, bound to a man who would rather treat me as enemy than mate. Yet I endure. Yet I stand. Do not mistake endurance for desire."
The Alpha's jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring as he battled both her words and his own instincts. For a heartbeat, she thought he would roar, unleash his fury as wolves did. Instead, he turned away. His shoulders heaved once, then locked back into rigid command.
"Prepare yourself," he said curtly, not facing her. "At midday, you will be presented to the court. They will judge you by what they see. Do not give them weakness."
He strode to the door, every line of him screaming restraint, and left her standing in the sunlight.
Seraphina drew a long, steady breath. He might resist her, deny her, even despise her—but she would not falter. If the court sought weakness, they would find none The sea bent for no Alpha, and neither would she