The fire in the hearth had burned down to glowing embers, casting the marriage chamber in amber shadows. I sat on the edge of our bed, silver gown spread around me, hands folded tightly in my lap.
Hours had passed since Jasper walked away. Hours of sitting in this beautiful prison, waiting for my husband to return. The mate bond hummed faintly in my chest—a silver thread that pulsed with each heartbeat, reminding me that somewhere in this keep, he was still connected to me whether he wanted to be or not.
The clock on the mantel ticked steadily, each second like a hammer against my ribs. I'd counted them at first before giving up and letting the numbers blur into white noise.
Maybe he wouldn't come back at all. Maybe our marriage would remain nothing but a political arrangement sealed with empty vows. The pack would whisper, of course. They'd call me the barren Luna, the wife so worthless her own husband couldn't bear to touch her.
The latch clicked.
My spine went rigid. The door swung open, and Jasper filled the doorway like a storm cloud. His ceremonial armor was gone, replaced by simple black clothes that did nothing to diminish his commanding presence. Storm-gray eyes found mine across the room, and the temperature seemed to drop.
He didn't speak. Didn't offer an explanation for his absence. He simply stepped inside and closed the door with a soft but final click.
"Stand up."
The command cracked across the room. My legs trembled as I rose, silver silk whispering around my ankles. There was no tenderness in his voice, no hint of the gentle lover I'd foolishly hoped might emerge in private. Just cold authority.
He crossed the room in measured strides, stopping close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. What I saw there made my heart shatter.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No desire, no affection, not even basic warmth. Just the flat stare of a man performing an unpleasant but necessary task.
"Jasper," I whispered, his name scraping my throat. "We don't have to—if you don't want—"
"This needs to be done." His fingers found the silk ties at my shoulders, and I flinched at the clinical detachment in his touch. "The marriage must be consummated properly."
Not 'making love' or 'joining as mates.' This. Like I was a chore to be completed, an item to be checked off his list of Alpha responsibilities.
The mate bond flared between us as he helped me from my gown, silver threads sparking where our skin met. My body responded despite my mind's protests—pulse quickening, breath catching. For one wild moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his storm-gray eyes. A hint of warmth, maybe.
Then his mouth found mine, and that hope died.
It wasn't a kiss—it was a claiming. Possessive, designed to dominate rather than seduce. The mate bond screamed between us, silver fire racing through my veins as our wolves recognized each other on some primal level.
But recognition wasn't acceptance. And acceptance wasn't love.
What followed was mechanical, methodical, utterly devoid of tenderness. He might as well have been performing maintenance for all the emotion he showed. My body tried to adjust, tried to find connection in what our souls demanded, but my heart was already retreating to some cold, distant place where the pain couldn't reach.
The bond pulsed between us, silver threads weaving tighter. I could feel his wolf now—proud and ruthless, touching the edges of my consciousness like ice water. But where there should have been warmth and acceptance, there was only cold calculation.
Duty, his wolf seemed to whisper. Obligation. Nothing more.
Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. Not from physical discomfort—though there was that—but from the crushing weight of understanding. This was my life now. This cold, mechanical joining would be repeated whenever he deemed it necessary to produce heirs, and I would endure it because that was what Lunas did.
They endured.
When it was over, he pulled away without a word. The sudden absence left me feeling hollow, aching, more alone than I'd ever been. The mate bond still thrummed between us, silver threads now permanently welded into place. But instead of the warm, comforting presence I'd dreamed of, it felt like a chain around my neck.
Jasper rose with fluid grace, already reaching for his discarded clothes. In the firelight, his body was perfect, untouchable, completely indifferent to the broken girl on the black silk sheets behind him.
He dressed with the same mechanical efficiency he'd shown in everything else. Each piece of clothing was another barrier between us, another wall thrown up around his carefully guarded heart.
I pulled the sheet up to cover myself, suddenly desperate to hide from those cold gray eyes. My hands shook as I clutched the silk to my chest, trying to hold the scattered pieces of my dignity together.
"Jasper," I whispered, his name barely a breath. "Please. Can't you just... say something? Anything?"
For a moment, he went still. His hand paused on the door latch, broad shoulders rigid. Hope fluttered in my chest like a caged bird.
Turn around, I begged silently. Look at me. See me. Tell me this meant something.
But when he moved again, it was to open the door. Cold air rushed in from the corridor, making me shiver despite the sheet. His boots struck the stone floor with measured precision, each step carrying him further away.
The scent of him lingered—storm and steel—but it was already fading. Within minutes, even that would be gone, leaving me alone with the echoes of what we'd done and the terrible understanding of what our marriage would be.
I sat there in the darkness, sheet clutched against my chest, and felt something vital break inside me. Not just my heart, though that ached. Something deeper. Something that had once believed in fairy tales and true love and the sacred bond between mates.
The silver threads still pulsed faintly in my chest, carrying his emotions like poison. Distance. Relief. The cold satisfaction of a duty completed.
I closed my eyes and let the tears fall, each one carrying away another piece of the girl who'd walked into this chamber full of hope. When I opened them again, that girl was gone.
In her place sat a woman who finally understood the truth about her marriage, her mate, and her place in the world.
The mate bond might have been consummated, might even grow into the child this pack needed. But it would never be what I'd dreamed of.
This was only the beginning.