The day I thought would be the happiest of my life, I realized it had been the most terrifying.
I was sold by my parents to the most fearsome werewolf of the pack. I had never seen him; I had only heard the rumors about him.
Ragnar—that was his name. A werewolf who, according to the villagers, was old, white-bearded, and the most mysterious of them all.
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**Flashback**
I stood before the mirror, dressed in white, tears filling my eyes, desperate to run away—but that was impossible. I was bound by my parents' decision.
"You must make Ragnar happy. Don't forget he is the oldest werewolf of all the packs. You must be compliant with him," said my mother, Carmen.
"Mother, I don't want to marry this old werewolf. They say he's cold, arrogant, and calculating. I deserve to be joined to a younger wolf," I pleaded, hoping they would understand my feelings.
My mother sighed deeply, but that wouldn't change the deal they had already made.
Finally, I began walking toward the altar, accompanied by my father—a simple werewolf, but one full of ambition.
The moon wasn't at its full splendor. Tonight was a red moon, one that appears only once or twice a year. It was the time when packs used it to seal alliances through marriage.
At last, I reached the altar, where my future husband awaited.
I didn't dare look at him. I never wanted to. Being sold as the mate of an old werewolf was the worst fate imaginable.
"Let us begin the ceremony," said the one officiating.
Everyone fell silent. No one dared to interrupt—not even me.
After what felt like endless minutes, the long-awaited question came.
"Miss Leticia Gutz, do you take Mr. Ragnar as your husband?"
My eyes filled with tears. There was an extreme silence within me, one that could alarm everyone.
"Yes, I do," I finally said.
I could feel the relief of those around me upon hearing my answer.
"Mr. Ragnar, do you take Miss Leticia as your wife?"
"Yes, I do," he replied without hesitation.
"Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
My heart began to race. I didn't want that old werewolf to touch me.
But to my surprise, I only felt a strong breeze sweeping my hair back. He was gone.
My husband had fled from me. I felt like everyone's mockery until someone came closer to confirm it.
"Your husband has vanished—like the breeze of the night," said Daniela, my best friend.
I looked at her with tears in my eyes, but I didn't cry. I wiped them away just in time.
Just as I thought about leaving everything behind, my mother approached with a satisfied expression.
"The driver is waiting to take you to your new home," she said suddenly.
I looked at her, confused. After being abandoned at the altar without even seeing my husband's face, I hadn't expected anyone to come for me.
"Could I run away, Mother? Do I even have that choice?" I asked, feeling an immense emptiness in my heart.
My mother didn't dare to answer. So, leaving everyone behind, I walked out to where the driver waited.
Without saying a word, I got into the car. The driver started the engine immediately, and we left.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at a mansion in a remote area of the city.
A chill ran down my spine. I stepped out of the car, feeling utterly isolated.
As I walked toward the door, a maid was waiting for me.
I entered the grand mansion, and my heartbeat quickened.
"Miss, please follow me. I'll show you to your room," the maid said kindly.
I followed her cautiously up the stairs. We walked down a dimly lit corridor and stopped at the very end, before a red door.
"This is your room. Don't worry about your luggage; it will be brought up later," she said before leaving.
I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. I stepped inside.
Everything was dark, barely illuminated.
I sat on the edge of the bed, about to cry—when a voice stopped me.
"Ragnar?" I asked fearfully.
"Yes," he replied curtly.
"Why won't you let me see you?" I whispered, trembling.
I heard footsteps approaching. In the heavy darkness, I couldn't see a thing. As a mere mate, I hadn't yet discovered my powers.
Suddenly, I felt a deep breath close to my face.
"Are you afraid of me, Leticia?" he asked in a low, sharp voice.
"I'm not sure," I stammered. "But I do know I can't move."
I felt his cold hand brush my arm. "Tonight, you belong to me," he murmured. "After that, if you wish to hate me, you may."
A shiver ran down my spine. I belonged now to an ancient werewolf who had never shown his true face.
His hands ran down my back, but unexpectedly, he threw me down on the bed, my breathing labored.
He removed my dress with impressive speed; I'd never seen anything like it before. Almost instantly, the dress was gone.
My skin was completely exposed, and I felt his lips kiss mine. The strangest thing was that I couldn't feel any beard, but of course, he was the oldest and most powerful werewolf.
His hands ran down my abdomen, and although I didn't want to reciprocate, it was useless; my body was surrendering to the passion.
Unexpectedly, I felt him enter me. He even made me moan with a slight pain.
"Were you a virgin?" he whispered in my ear, still moving.
"Yes. But you were supposed to know that already. You have the gift of seeing beyond what other wolves see," I replied.
But I didn't get a response; I simply felt his body moving against mine.
Until after a long time, he was exhausted, but not just him, I was too.
I fell asleep, as if nothing worried me.