The ,hall reeked of smoke and wine,the air heavy with murmurs that died as Dominic entered. His boots struck the stone floor in deliberate, thunderous rhythm, the Alpha King radiating a menace that silenced even the most brazen of his lords. The throne awaited him, iron and carved wolf heads glinting in firelight. At his side, reluctant but defiant, Seraphina moved like a shadow of the sea—every step a quiet act of rebellion against the sneers that followed her.
Her gown tonight shimmered in silver-blue, like moonlight on water. Yet no matter how radiant she appeared, the whispers returned like gnats.
"She weakens him. Look at her—out of place, unworthy."
"Saltwater witch. The court will never bow to her."
"Better Lyanna than that thing…"
Dominic heard every word. His wolf bristled. But he forced his jaw tight, his face carved into stone. He would not show that they struck deep, nor would he admit how every insult burned because the bond made Seraphina's pain his own.
He sat on the throne, Seraphina standing just a step below him, not yet granted the seat beside him. That, too, was a silent wound.
Then Lyanna swept into the hall.
Scarlet silk clung to her body, her golden hair woven with jeweled pins that caught the firelight. She walked as if she were Luna already, her every motion calculated. She bowed deeply to Dominic—ignoring Seraphina altogether.
"My Alpha," she said, her voice sweet poison. "Might I address the court?"
Dominic's eyes narrowed. He should have dismissed her. He should have ordered her silent. Yet every noble in the hall leaned forward, eager for the drama. To silence her now would only make him look as though he feared her words.
"Speak," he said, his voice hard.
Lyanna smiled.
"My Alpha, beloved wolves of this realm, we gather to celebrate strength, honor, bloodlines that have kept us safe through centuries. But tonight we face an uncertainty—an outsider who claims to be queen, though she carries no wolf blood, no heritage, no rightful bond with our people."
Gasps and murmurs surged like a tide. Seraphina's hands curled into fists at her sides.
Dominic growled low, warning, but Lyanna pressed on.
"Already, she divides us. Already, our enemies scent weakness. Can we trust a creature from the sea—a sworn enemy's daughter—as Luna? Or will we wake one night to find our Alpha drowned in his bed, betrayed from within?"
The hall erupted. Wolves shouted agreement. Others growled dissent. A fight broke out between two lesser lords before guards separated them.
Through it all, Seraphina stood silent, chin high, blue eyes cold fire. She would not let them see her break.
But then Lyanna turned, smiling with vicious triumph.
"Why not prove her loyalty?" Lyanna said, her gaze sweeping the court. "Let her walk among us unguarded. If she is truly Luna, she will not falter. Unless, of course… she hides fangs beneath those lips."
The hall roared approval.
Dominic's wolf surged, furious, demanding blood. His claws extended into the arms of the throne.
"Enough." His voice shook the rafters, the Alpha command rippling through every wolf, forcing spines to bow. "No one questions my judgment."
But even as he spoke, he saw the doubt in their eyes. Lyanna had planted her seed.
And worse—the scent of danger lingered, sharp and metallic.
---
That night, Seraphina found no peace.
The mate-bond burned hotter than ever, every glance from Dominic a mixture of desire and rage. He did not touch her. He did not speak, save curt orders. Yet when she moved to leave their chamber, his voice snapped like a whip.
"You do not walk alone."
"I am not your prisoner."
"You are mine," he growled, the words torn from him before he could cage them. The silence that followed made his chest heave. He turned away, ashamed of how true they rang.
Seraphina's heart raced, not from fear but from the way his voice curled through her veins. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to strike him. But every night, every heated silence between them, the bond pulled tighter.
Still, she refused to yield. "Then keep your chains, Alpha. I will not beg for your protection."
He rounded on her, eyes glowing amber, his wolf close to the surface. "You think I do this for you? If you die, I die. That is the curse you've tethered to me."
Her lips parted, the truth of his confession striking deep. Not love, not care—just survival. Yet the way his voice broke made her wonder.
---
The attempt came at dawn.
Seraphina woke to the sound of steel against stone. She rose from the bed, nightgown clinging to her curves, the chill air biting her skin. Dominic was gone from the chamber.
A shadow slipped through the balcony. Masked. Blade glinting.
Her breath caught.
Before she could scream, the assassin lunged—knife aimed at her heart.
Instinct surged. The sea within her stirred, power she rarely used on land crackling in her blood. She raised her hand and water droplets pulled from the air, hardening into a shield that deflected the blade with a hiss.
The assassin snarled, striking again—only to be seized mid-motion by a blur of black.
Dominic.
He slammed the intruder against the wall, claws ripping through flesh. His roar rattled the chamber windows, pure Alpha fury. The assassin gurgled blood before Dominic snapped his neck, the body dropping in a heap.
Dominic's chest heaved, eyes still glowing. His gaze turned to Seraphina—her gown torn, her hair wild, her hand trembling where sea-magic still shimmered faintly.
"Are you hurt?" His voice was rough, raw.
"No," she whispered. "But you—"
He crossed the distance in two strides, grabbing her arms, checking her frantically for wounds. The touch seared her, the bond surging like fire under her skin. Her breath hitched.
"Dominic…" she murmured, lips trembling.
His eyes dropped to her mouth. His wolf howled within, demanding he claim her, taste her, make her his fully. His claws grazed her waist, not in threat but need.
He caught himself, muscles quaking, and tore away with a snarl.
"This was her doing," he growled. "Lyanna. She dares strike you under my roof."
Seraphina's heart pounded. She should have hated his touch. She should have despised the way he looked at her as though she were both curse and salvation. But all she could feel was the bond dragging them closer, drowning her in desire she could no longer deny.
"Then what will you do?" she whispered.
Dominic's gaze burned, filled with war and hunger. "What I should have done the moment you set foot in my world. Protect you. Even if I damn myself for it."
---
By midday, the court was in chaos.
The assassin's body lay in the great hall for all to see, his allegiance marked by the crest burned into his skin: a golden wolf, Lyanna's house sigil.
Gasps filled the chamber. Some denied it. Others whispered in fear.
Dominic stood tall, his voice thunder. "This is the treachery bred by envy. You question your Luna? You doubt her place? See now the lengths to which your so-called princess will go. She dares strike against your Alpha King's bond. This is not defiance—it is treason."
All bowed, trembling under the weight of his command. All but Lyanna.
She stood at the far end of the hall, her eyes wide with feigned innocence, her lips trembling in mock horror.
"My Alpha, you wound me. Would I ever raise a hand against you?"
Dominic's growl shook the stone. His wolf surged, demanding blood. But politics chained him—Lyanna's family still held power, allies he could not slaughter openly without war.
"Leave," he ordered, his voice low with the promise of death. "Leave before I forget mercy."
Gasps rippled.
Lyanna bowed, her smile thin, and swept from the hall.
---
That night, Seraphina sat by the fire in their chamber, the shadows dancing across her face. Dominic watched her from the doorway, torn apart by the storm inside him.
"You saved me," she said softly, eyes on the flames.
He swallowed. "You should not have needed saving."
Silence fell. The fire crackled. The bond thrummed between them, stronger than ever, a rope pulling taut.
Seraphina finally turned, her gaze meeting his. "You can fight it, Dominic. You can pretend you don't want me. But your wolf knows. And so do you."
His chest rose and fell. His hands shook at his sides. Slowly, he crossed the room, each step heavier than the last, until he stood before her.
Her breath hitched. He leaned down, his face inches from hers, his scent wrapping around her like smoke and heat.
"I will never treat you as my wife," he whispered, though his lips brushed hers. "But gods help me, I cannot stop needing you."
And then his mouth claimed hers.
The kiss was fire and storm, all the fury of denial breaking into hunger. Her hands clutched his shoulders, his claws digging into the chair she sat on, splintering wood. He dragged her closer, his tongue tasting the salt and sweetness of her.
When he tore away, both were gasping, their foreheads pressed together.
The bond sang—wild, unstoppable.
For the first time, Dominic did not fight it.