Maya had never worn a dress like this before.
It was a slip of black silk, cut on the bias, whispering against her skin with every move. Damon hadn't asked her to wear it; he'd ordered it, delivering a garment bag to her room with the kind of finality that left no room for argument. The dress fit like it had been sewn on her body, clinging in ways that made her feel both powerful and exposed.
She tugged at the neckline, glaring at herself in the mirror.
This wasn't her. She wasn't some glittering trophy wife made for rich men's arm candy. She was a girl from the wrong side of Crescent City, a girl who knew the taste of overdue rent and hospital bills, not champagne and chandelier light.
But tonight, she had to play the role. Tonight, she had to survive.
The door opened behind her. She stiffened, catching Damon's reflection in the mirror.
He was in black, of course—tailored suit, crisp shirt, silver cufflinks that caught the light. But it wasn't the clothes that stole her breath. It was the way he wore them, like he wasn't dressed for a party at all but for war.
His eyes raked over her, slow, deliberate. Her pulse stumbled under the weight of that gaze.
"You look…" His voice was rough, as if the words were dragged out against his will. "…acceptable."
Heat flared in her chest. "Acceptable? That's all you've got?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Would you prefer devastating?"
She hated that her stomach fluttered. "I'd prefer honest."
His eyes darkened, and for a moment she thought he might actually tell her. But then he turned, offering his arm. "It's time."
The car ride was silent except for the sound of tires slicing through wet streets. The city gleamed outside the tinted windows—neon signs reflecting off rain-slick pavement, the pulse of nightlife hiding something darker in every shadow.
Maya's fingers twisted in her lap. "Where are we going?"
"The Hollow." Damon's gaze stayed fixed on the skyline.
She frowned. "That's… the abandoned cathedral, isn't it?"
"Not abandoned," he corrected softly. "Claimed."
Her stomach sank. She didn't ask by who. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.
The Hollow rose like a blackened skeleton at the edge of the city. Once, it must have been magnificent—a cathedral with spires scraping the heavens, stained glass windows that told holy stories. Now, the glass was shattered, the stone cracked, ivy strangling its bones.
But tonight, it was alive.
Torches burned along the path. Music thrummed low and ancient, vibrating through the ground. People—no, not just people—milled outside in gowns and suits, their eyes too sharp, their smiles edged with hunger.
Maya's breath caught. Wolves. She didn't need to see their fangs to know it.
Damon's hand settled on her back, steady and firm. "Remember," he murmured. "Head high. No fear."
Easy for him to say. He was the predator. She was the rabbit walking willingly into the wolves' den.
The crowd turned as they entered. Whispers rippled. Damon Blackthorn, arriving with a human on his arm. She felt the weight of their stares, the judgment, the curiosity, the thinly veiled disdain.
Damon ignored them all.
Inside, the cathedral had been transformed. Chandeliers of iron and bone hung from the vaulted ceiling. The broken altar was now a stage, draped in blood-red silk. Long tables stretched down the nave, groaning under food and wine. And everywhere, eyes gleamed in the shadows.
Maya swallowed hard.
A voice cut through the noise. "Damon Blackthorn, gracing us at last."
Selene.
She glided toward them in silver satin, her smile as sharp as a knife. Her gaze flicked to Maya, lingering on the dress before returning to Damon. "And with your bride. How quaint."
Maya bristled, but Damon's hand tightened at her back. He didn't rise to the bait. "Where's the council?"
"Watching," Selene purred. She leaned closer, her perfume cloying. "They want to see if the human bends or breaks."
Maya's skin prickled. She opened her mouth, but Damon spoke first.
"She won't break." His voice was steel. "She's mine."
The words rolled over her like a brand. The crowd hushed. Selene's smile widened, but her eyes were daggers.
"We'll see," she murmured, before drifting away.
The night blurred. Wolves circled, some curious, some hostile. Maya endured questions that felt like traps, stares that stripped her bare. Damon never left her side, his presence a shield that both comforted and suffocated.
But it was when the music shifted—low drums, heavy and primal—that the true test began.
The council emerged.
Seven of them, cloaked in shadows, eyes gleaming like embers. They moved to the altar, their power filling the cathedral like a storm. The crowd hushed, every head bowing.
Maya's pulse hammered. She didn't bow. She didn't know if she was supposed to.
One of the elders spoke, a woman with silver hair braided like a crown. Her voice echoed through the cavernous space.
"Damon Blackthorn. You stand before us with a human bound to your name. Do you claim her freely?"
"I do." His voice never wavered.
The woman's gaze slid to Maya. "And you, human? Do you accept this bond, knowing it ties you not just to him but to the blood and law of wolves?"
Maya's throat tightened. She felt Damon's hand at her back, steady, waiting.
She could say no. She could run.
But then she thought of Ana, fragile in that hospital bed. She thought of the chains she'd glimpsed on another wolf, the threat Damon said was worse than death. She thought of how his presence both terrified and steadied her.
"Yes," she whispered. Her voice grew stronger. "I accept."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
The elder's eyes gleamed. "Then let it be tested."
Before Maya could ask what that meant, the floor trembled. The crowd parted. And from the shadows, a wolf stepped forward.
Not Damon. Not like Damon.
This creature was massive, its fur black as midnight, eyes burning red. It stalked into the circle, claws scraping stone.
"Face him," the elder commanded. "If you survive his hunger, the bond is sealed."
Maya's blood ran cold. "What?"
Damon moved instantly, fury flashing in his eyes. "She is mine. You will not touch her."
The elder's smile was thin. "Then prove she is more than prey. Prove she is worthy to stand at your side."
The wolf growled, the sound rattling the cathedral walls.
Maya's heart pounded. Damon stepped forward, his body already shifting, bones cracking, silver light flooding his eyes.
"Stay behind me," he growled, his voice half-human, half-wolf.
And then he was no longer a man at all but a beast of shadow and silver, colliding with the black wolf in a snarl of teeth and fury.