The journey to the Blackthorn Fortress stretched endlessly across the night, though Evelyn had no way of marking time. She was carried on horseback in the iron embrace of the Alpha King, his arm a band of steel across her waist, pressing her back against his chest. His heartbeat thudded in a calm, commanding rhythm, a sound too steady for the storm inside her own body.
The forest blurred around her as the pack moved like shadows, the thunder of their paws and hooves swallowed by the silence that clung to them. No one spoke. No one dared. The Alpha King's presence was enough to silence the night itself.
When dawn finally crept over the mountains, Evelyn's eyes widened at the sight before her.
The Blackthorn Fortress rose from the earth like a beast carved from the mountain's bones. Jagged towers speared the sky, their tips vanishing into a veil of mist. The walls were veined with silver wards, glowing faintly where the morning light kissed them. It wasn't a place of beauty, it was a place of power. A place built to withstand centuries of blood and conquest.
Her stomach twisted as the gates yawned open with a groan of iron and chains thicker than her arms. Inside, the fortress city stirred with life. Black banners snapped in the wind, soldiers drilled in neat rows, villagers bowed low in the streets. Yet every soul froze when their eyes found the man astride the great black stallion.
The King.
Darius Blackthorn.
They lowered their heads instantly, not daring to look. Evelyn felt their gazes slide toward her only when they thought themselves unseen, confused, envious, suspicious. Their whispers brushed her skin like daggers.
Who is she?
Another concubine?
No… she carries the scent. The mark of the bond.
The mate.
Her cheeks burned. She wanted to vanish. She wanted to be nothing again, just another servant no one noticed. But that life was gone now, stripped away the moment his golden eyes had found hers under the Blood Moon.
Darius dismounted in one fluid motion, setting her down with surprising care, though his hand lingered at her waist. Steadying her or staking his claim, she couldn't tell. Her legs trembled, but she forced herself to stand tall. She would not look weak before these people.
"Bring her," the King commanded, his voice rolling like thunder.
At once, guards and attendants swept forward. None touched her, but all watched. They led her through the towering gates of the palace, into a hall vast enough to swallow her entire village. Black stone gleamed underfoot, silver chandeliers dripped with crystals like frozen stars, and banners dyed the color of spilled blood hung from the walls.
Evelyn froze.
A hundred pairs of eyes turned on her at once courtiers, nobles, warriors. Their stares were sharp, their whispers sharper. She felt herself laid bare under their scrutiny, judged and already condemned.
And then, a voice cut through the hush.
"Well, well. So the rumors are true."
From the crowd, a woman emerged.
She was tall and elegant, her gown the color of midnight, her raven hair braided with silver. Her beauty was sharp, almost painful to look at, her lips painted the red of fresh blood. But it was her piercing, possessive that made Evelyn's stomach not.
Lady Selene.
Evelyn didn't know her name yet, but she felt it. This was someone who had once stood close to the King. Someone who still wanted to.
"Your Majesty," Selene purred, bowing gracefully, though her gaze never left Evelyn. "You've returned… with quite the prize."
The court chuckled softly, the sound like snakes slithering through grass. Evelyn's cheeks burned hotter.
Darius's golden eyes flicked at Selene, unreadable. "This is Evelyn Pierce. My mate."
The words felt like an earthquake. The hall erupted in whispers, shock rippling through the crowd. Some bowed lower. Others stiffened in silent rebellion. Evelyn's breath caught. Why did it feel like those three words had shackled her tighter than chains?
Selene's smile was a blade. A mate. How… unexpected. And yet, she circled slowly, her eyes raking over Evelyn's plain dress, her trembling hands, "hardly what one imagines for a King of your stature."
Laughter rippled. Evelyn's chest squeezed, humiliation biting deep. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But Darius only smirked, tilting his head toward his courtiers.
"Then let us see what she is made of."
Evelyn's heart stuttered. What did he mean?
The King stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch deceptively gentle. Then he turned, his voice commanding the hall.
"My mate will dine with me at the High Table tonight. She will be presented as your future Queen."
Gasps rippled throughout the court. Selene's eyes narrowed, venom flashing in their depths. Evelyn's pulse raced in panic. A Queen? She wasn't even a proper wolf. She had never shifted, never commanded, never belonged.
Darius leaned down, his lips grazing her ear, his voice low enough that only she heard.
"Stand tall, little one. You are mine now. And the world will learn to bow to you or burn."
His words seared her skin, her soul.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of preparation. Servants rushed to her side, measuring, fitting, brushing, polishing. Silk gowns replaced her threadbare dress. Jewels glittered where once her skin had been bare. They painted her lips, darkened her lashes, braided her hair into an intricate crown.
But no matter how they dressed her, Evelyn could not silence the pounding of her heart. She was a lamb dressed for sacrifice, walking willingly into the wolves' den.
That night, when the doors to the Great Hall swung open, every head turned.
The hall glittered with firelight and gold. Long tables overflowed with food, goblets brimming with wine. Nobles lounged in finery, their laughter loud and cruel. At the head, upon a throne carved of obsidian and silver, sat the Alpha King.
His eyes found her instantly.
The world stalled.
Evelyn walked forward on trembling legs, every step echoing through the silence. She felt the weight of their stares, the venom in their whispers. She saw Selene seated close to the throne, her smile sharpened into a threat.
But then Darius stood.
He extended his hand, commanding her closer. She placed her trembling fingers in his, and he drew her up beside him, to sit where no one else had ever sat.
In his right hand.
His mate. His Queen.
The court erupted in whispers again, some furious, some fearful. Selene's eyes burned with hatred. Evelyn's throat tightened, her chest aching with the force of it all.
And then, Darius raised his goblet, his voice carrying like thunder.
"To my mate. To the future Queen of the Blackthorn Kingdom."
The hall rang with reluctant cheers, the sound hollow, false. But Evelyn felt the weight of it settle onto her shoulders like chains. She was trapped. She was owned. She was bound to the most dangerous man alive.
And as his golden eyes burned into hers, she knew one truth with bone-deep certainty.
There was no escape.
Not from him.
Not from this bond.
Not from fate itself.