"Smile, Luna." Damon's voice was honey-sweet for their audience. His fingers dug into her waist hard enough to bruise. "Remember what happens if you embarrass me tonight."
Crystal chandeliers cast dancing shadows across hundreds of elegantly dressed wolves in Treuman Estate's grand ballroom. Their laughter and conversation created a symphony of false civility.
Luna stood at the entrance in a silver gown, her hand resting lightly on Damon's arm as cameras flashed.
She smiled. She always smiled.
"Alpha Treuman! Princess Luna Ashford!" A reporter from the Lycan Chronicle pushed forward. "How does it feel to be hosting the largest charity gala in the Northern Territories?"
Damon's hand slid around Luna's waist, pulling her closer. To anyone watching, they were the perfect couple. The ambitious Alpha and his royal-blooded mate.
"Luna has worked tirelessly on tonight's event." His gray eyes were cold despite his warm tone. "She's dedicated to serving our pack and the greater wolf community."
The reporter turned to Luna expectantly.
She felt Damon's fingers press against her ribs in warning.
"It's an honor." Luna kept her voice steady despite the pain. "The Lunar Children's Fund is close to my heart. Every child deserves safety and protection."
Unlike me. Unlike what I've become.
"And the rumors about Alpha Treuman's Council candidacy?" the reporter pressed.
Damon's smile widened, but his grip tightened until Luna could barely breathe. "All will be revealed tonight. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have guests to greet."
He steered her away from the cameras, his pleasant expression never faltering. But as soon as they were out of sight behind a marble column, "You hesitated." The words came out soft and dangerous. "That pause before you spoke. Do you think I didn't notice?"
"I'm sorry, I—"
"Sorry?" Damon's laugh was quiet, lethal. "You'll be sorry if you ruin this night for me, Luna. I've spent years building this moment. Three years tolerating your pathetic excuse for a wolf, your broken bloodline, your—"
"My bloodline isn't broken!" Luna snapped before she could stop herself.
Damon's hand shot out, gripping her chin with bruising force.
His gray eyes looked dead and merciless. "Your bloodline is the only thing keeping you alive, you stupid bitch. The Ashford name, your father's legacy, your brothers' connections. That's all you are to me. A key to the Council. And tonight, you'll play your part perfectly, or I'll make you regret the day you were born!"
He released her with a shove, smoothing his jacket.
Footsteps sounded nearby and Damon's expression transformed instantly into one of concern.
"Darling, are you alright? You look pale." His voice carried perfectly to the guests coming around the corner. "Maybe you should rest for a moment. You've been working so hard on tonight's preparations."
He cast a side glance at the lady coming toward them with her entourage. Lady Helena Thorne. She was a prominent Council member's wife.
"Princes Ashford! The ballroom is absolutely stunning. You've outdone yourself."
Luna forced another smile, ignoring the throbbing in her jaw. "Thank you, Lady Thorne. I hope the evening raises significant funds for the children."
"Oh, it will, dear. Everyone's here tonight. All the major packs, half the Council, even some of the old families who rarely leave their territories." She leaned in like they were sharing secrets. "I hear there's to be a major announcement?"
Damon's hand found the small of Luna's back in a way that looked affectionate but sent pain shooting through her body.
"You'll have to wait and see, Lady Thorne. But I promise it will be worth the anticipation," he smiled wryly.
Helena giggled knowingly. "You're never one to disappoint, Mr. Treuman. Well, I'm eager to know the details soon." She winked.
With that, Helena sashay away with her entourage.
Luna caught sight of herself in one of the ballroom's massive mirrors. The woman staring back was a stranger. Perfectly styled dark hair, flawless makeup hiding the shadows under her eyes, a designer gown concealing the bruises that mapped her body like a constellation of abuse.
Luna Ashford, Lunar Princess. Daughter of the late Alpha King Theron and Queen Selene of the southern kingdom. Sister to four powerful Alphas. Mate to Damon Treuman.
Prisoner.
Her wolf stirred weakly in the back of her mind, a shadow of what she once was. Three years ago, she'd been strong, vibrant, ready to take on the world. Now she was barely a whisper, suppressed by the vitamins Damon insisted she take daily, weakened by constant psychological torture, broken by the realization that no one was coming to save them.
"Luna!" A familiar voice cut through her dark thoughts.
She turned to see Celeste Pierce gliding toward them, resplendent in a red gown that clung to her curves.
Her foster sister, taken in by the Ashford family when her parents died in a rogue attack fifteen years ago. Raised as one of them, loved as a sister, trusted with their family's secrets.
The woman who was sleeping with her mate.
"Celeste." Luna's voice remained steady despite the blade of betrayal twisting deeper into her chest. "You look... radiant."
"Not nearly as radiant as you, dear sister." Celeste leaned in for the customary air-kisses, her movements fluid as silk, deadly as poison.
The cloying sweetness of jasmine and vanilla hit Luna like a physical blow. Damon's favorite.
She fought the urge to recoil, to press her hand against her nose. Instead, she smiled.
"This gala is absolutely magnificent." Celeste's crimson lips curved into what might have been admiration, if one didn't know better. "You've truly outdone yourself, sister. You always did have a flair for spectacle."
Damon's hand slid from Luna's back to Celeste's arm. The gesture was subtle but unmistakable. "Luna has been invaluable in the planning process. I don't know what we'd do without her support."
We. As if they were the couple, and Luna was the interloper.
"I just want to help however I can."
"You work too hard, sister." Celeste's green eyes met Luna's with false sympathy. "Especially with you being so delicate lately. The stress of pack duties can be overwhelming for someone with your condition."
Luna's fingers clenched in the folds of her gown. Condition. As if her weakness was inherent, not manufactured by the poison Damon fed her daily.
"I'm fine." Her words came out quiet.
"Of course you are, darling." Damon's voice dripped with false concern. "But Celeste's right. You have been under tremendous strain. Maybe after tonight's announcement, we should consider that rest cure Dr. Mevon suggested."
Luna's blood ran cold. Dr. Mevon, the pack therapist Damon had brought in two years ago. The one who'd started documenting her deteriorating mental state in sessions she'd been forced to attend. The one who'd suggested, in front of half the pack's leadership, that she was struggling with the pressures of being an Alpha's mate.
"I don't need a rest cure." Luna fought to keep her voice level. "I need—"
"What you need is to trust your mate to know what's best for you!" Damon's tone hardened. "Now, smile. Councilman Aldrich is coming over, and I need you to be charming."