"Every eye in the courtyard was on us."
The weight of silence pressed down on me like a storm about to break, heavy with the electricity that preceded supernatural lightning. The festival music faltered as students turned from their conversations and celebratory dancing, whispers snapping through the crowd like sparks from a dying fire. The paper lanterns swaying overhead seemed to dim as all attention focused on the drama unfolding beneath the goddess's silver light.
Darius stood directly in front of me, his powerful frame blocking out everything else in my field of vision. His hand remained outstretched in the traditional gesture of mate claiming, golden gaze steady despite the tension radiating from every line of his body. The moonlight caught the aristocratic planes of his face, transforming him into something that belonged in ancient legends rather than Academy politics.
Tradition demanded he offer. Destiny demanded my answer. But my wounded pride screamed at me to refuse him-to make him taste the bitter rejection he had so freely given me just weeks ago.
But my wolf... my wolf trembled with desperate longing, claws scraping at the inside of my chest as she threw herself against my mental barriers. She was desperate to take what was being offered, to claim what the goddess had marked as ours regardless of the human complications that stood between us.
The mate bond pulsed with increasing urgency, sending waves of phantom pain through my ribs that made breathing difficult. Every supernatural instinct I possessed urged me to bridge the distance between us, to accept what fate had written in our very souls.
"Elara." My name on his lips carried across the suddenly quiet courtyard, his voice pitched low but resonating with enough authority to reach every enhanced ear present. There was pride stiff in its edges, the kind of Alpha arrogance that had marked our every interaction. "Dance with me."
The words weren't really a request, though they'd been phrased as one for the sake of appearances. They carried the weight of command wrapped in ceremony, forced into softness by the demands of tradition and the watching crowd. Even so, there was unmistakable strain in his tone, like every syllable fought against something powerful inside him.
His wolf, I realized. His own supernatural nature was at war with his human pride, just as mine was.
I hesitated, hyperaware of the charged air thick with anticipation from hundreds of watching wolves. The smart thing would be to refuse. Every instinct of wounded pride demanded it. He'd humiliated me publicly, rejected me brutally, and now expected me to simply forgive and forget because he'd changed his mind?
But when my fingers brushed against his outstretched palm, electricity jolted through my entire nervous system with devastating intensity. The contact was like touching lightning made flesh, sharp and undeniable and powerful enough to make my knees weak. My wolf howled in relief, the mate bond thrumming between us like a struck tuning fork, as if it had been waiting centuries for this single touch.
Gasps rippled through the assembled courtyard as I placed my trembling hand fully in his much larger one.
Darius pulled me into the traditional dance circle with measured precision, his movements controlled despite the supernatural energy crackling between us. The festival music resumed around us as other couples began to move, but I was only dimly aware of their presence. The Festival of Moons had always been about unity, about supernatural bonds honored under the goddess's blessed light.
For us, it became something else entirely-an elegant war fought with graceful steps and burning glances.
His hand settled against the small of my back with possessive certainty, the heat of his palm burning through the thin fabric of my ceremonial dress. His other hand guided mine with the kind of practiced ease that spoke of generations of Alpha breeding and formal dance training. The touch was firm, unmistakably dominant, but beneath that control I could feel the tremor of barely leashed restraint.
Every movement carried tension that had nothing to do with the dance steps and everything to do with the supernatural forces binding us together whether we wanted them or not.
I met his burning gaze directly, my spine rigid with defiance even as my traitorous wolf melted under his touch. "You don't get to act like this now," I whispered, my voice sharp enough to cut glass despite the romantic music swelling around us.
His jaw tightened until I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin, but he spun me gracefully through the traditional steps as if we'd been practicing together for years rather than avoiding each other for weeks.
"I can't undo what I said." His breath brushed warm against my ear as he drew me close for one of the dance's more intimate movements, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the evening chill. "But I can't let you go either."
The confession hit me like a physical blow, revealing the depths of his internal conflict. He was trapped between his Alpha pride and the supernatural compulsion of our bond, just as I was caught between my wounded heart and my wolf's desperate need for her mate.
The dance carried us in sweeping arcs across the makeshift floor, our bodies moving in perfect synchronization despite the emotional chaos raging between us. Every step brought us closer together before spinning us apart again, the traditional choreography creating a pattern of approach and retreat that mirrored our entire relationship.
My pride flared with every word left unspoken, every moment when he could have apologized but chose silence instead. But the mate bond pulled relentlessly, wrapping tighter around my heart with each graceful turn and elegant dip until I felt like I was drowning in sensations I couldn't control.
Around us, the Academy's elite watched in breathless silence. Some students stared with obvious awe at the romantic drama playing out before them-this was the stuff of legends, the kind of story that would be whispered about for generations. Others observed with barely concealed scorn, their enhanced senses picking up the tension beneath our graceful movements and judging us for the messiness of supernatural bonds denied.
But none of them dared to interrupt or comment aloud. The power radiating from both Darius and me was too dangerous, too volatile for lesser wolves to risk drawing attention to themselves.
From the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, I caught the weight of another gaze burning hotter than all the rest. Gideon Wicke leaned against one of the ancient stone pillars with studied casualness, but his amber eyes were locked on us with venomous fury that made my skin crawl even from a distance.
His usual charming smirk was nowhere to be found, replaced by an expression of such concentrated hatred that it transformed his handsome features into something genuinely frightening. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and I could see the subtle signs of his wolf pressing close to the surface-the slight elongation of his canine teeth, the predatory stillness that marked him as dangerous.
Whatever game he'd been playing, whatever long-term manipulation he'd been orchestrating, seeing me in Darius's arms was clearly destroying his carefully laid plans.
The realization should have worried me, but I couldn't seem to focus on anything beyond the burning intensity of Darius's golden eyes as they held mine. The mate bond tugged relentlessly at something deep in my chest, my wolf humming with satisfaction at every brush of his strong hands, every perfectly executed step that proved we moved together like two halves of the same whole.
The music began to slow, reaching its final haunting notes that would signal the end of our dance and whatever temporary truce we'd achieved. Darius pulled me closer than the traditional steps strictly required, his powerful frame surrounding me until his scent filled my enhanced senses completely.
Pine forests and winter storms, barely leashed dominance and something darker that spoke of possession and claiming and the kind of primal need that could consume everything in its path.
His breath was warm against my cheek as the last notes faded into silence, his golden eyes fierce in the ethereal moonlight that blessed our kind. When he spoke, his voice was pitched for my ears alone, rough with emotions too complex to name.
The words that emerged would haunt me long after the festival ended, changing everything I thought I understood about choice and fate and the terrible power of bonds that could never truly be broken.
"You are mine, Elara." Each word was carved from stone and fire, absolute in its certainty. "Whether you want it or not."