🌘Kate
The arena still hummed with the echo of cheers as Ryker and I stepped down from the platform. The crowd parted without hesitation, not from fear, but with an almost reverent awe. Moments ago, I had been the wolfless omega they whispered about; now every bow, every nod, every softened gaze felt like a silent acceptance.
Lila was at the front of the group, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Not bad, Luna," she said under her breath, the warmth in her voice wrapping around me more tightly than the cloak I now wore.
As we moved toward the grand pathway that led back to the packhouse, something strange happened. I caught the faintest whisper in my mind — "She wears it well." I turned my head toward Lila, certain she'd spoken aloud, but her lips hadn't moved. Before I could say anything, she looked at me with a grin and a shiver ran down my spine, but I kept it to myself, filing it away for later.
The air was alive with celebration. Torches burned bright, casting golden light over stone paths scattered with petals. Wolves and humans alike laughed, clinked glasses, and told stories in voices thick with pride. It was strange to walk through it all and not feel the sting of side-eyes or the weight of judgment. For the first time since I'd arrived, the pack's energy wrapped around me like an embrace.
Back in my chambers, a small army of maids awaited me. The moment I stepped in, they moved with a precision and care I hadn't experienced before. Gone were the stiff movements and cold glances; now they handled me like something precious.
A floor-length gown of deep crimson silk was laid out — a color that matched the embers still smoldering in my veins from the fight. The bodice clung to my form, delicate embroidery catching the light, while the skirt fell in soft, sweeping folds. A pair of jeweled heels glimmered nearby, and when I slipped them on, I felt taller, stronger.
They brushed my hair until it shone like dark silk, then swept it over one shoulder. My makeup was subtle yet powerful — a touch of gold at my eyes, a hint of color at my lips. I barely recognized the woman in the mirror, but Lysandra's voice purred in my mind, "He won't know what hit him."
I laughed softly, but my heart skipped when I saw Ryker waiting at the end of the grand staircase. He was in a black suit that fit him like it had been crafted by the hands of gods themselves, the sharp lines accentuating his broad shoulders and powerful stance. His hair was pushed back, his jaw clean-shaven, and his eyes… they locked on me like I was the only thing worth seeing.
"Dashing doesn't even begin to cover it," Lysandra murmured.
And you're staring, I added to her, trying to ignore the heat creeping into my cheeks.
Ryker offered his arm, and I took it, the warmth of his hand steadying me. "Breathtaking," he said, his voice low enough for only me to hear.
The celebration was in full swing by the time we entered the courtyard. Lanterns floated overhead like captured stars, music swelled, and the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine filled the air. Laughter rolled through the crowd, mingling with the beat of drums.
We made our rounds, greeting pack members, sharing smiles and quiet conversations. But soon, Ryker turned to me, his eyes glinting. "Dance with me."
The musicians shifted seamlessly into a slow, lilting melody. He guided me into the center, one hand at my waist, the other cradling my fingers. The rest of the world faded until there was only us, moving as if the song had been written for our steps alone.
"You've made them love you," he murmured.
"I didn't do it alone," I replied, my lips curving.
The night wound down with warmth lingering in the air. As the crowd began to thin, Ryker laced his fingers through mine and led me away. We walked in comfortable silence, our steps in sync, the sounds of celebration fading behind us.
Up in his chambers, the door closed with a quiet click. He turned to me slowly, his gaze sweeping over me with a hunger that made my pulse race.
The first kiss was unhurried — a soft claiming, a promise. But it deepened quickly, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me against him. I teased back, nipping at his lower lip until his growl rumbled through me.
Clothes fell away, discarded in the haze of heat between us. His mouth traced fire along my neck, lingering where my pulse pounded. My fingers curled in his hair, pulling him closer, until instinct roared through me. Without thinking, I tilted my head, baring my neck.
He sank his teeth into me with a low, primal growl, marking me as his. Pleasure and fire collided, flooding me in a rush so overwhelming I gasped. Our bond tightened instantly, a living thread weaving us together.
And then… I heard him. Not in words spoken aloud, but in my mind — his voice like velvet over steel: Mine.
The realization hit hard and fast, but before I could respond, he kissed me again, pouring every ounce of his need and devotion into the press of his lips. I answered with my own, letting my teeth graze his skin before I marked him in return. His sharp inhale told me he felt it too — that fierce, unbreakable tether.
When we finally came together, it was a rush of heat and connection unlike anything I'd known. Teasing turned to urgency, urgency to surrender, and every movement sang with the truth that we were bound in fire and flesh.
By the time we lay tangled in each other's arms, our breaths still uneven, the mate bond hummed between us — tighter, deeper, and utterly ours.