Elina's POV
The air in the great hall tastes like smoke.
Every breath I take burns. The scent of wolves — wild, thick, intoxicating — chokes the room. Their laughter echoes through the stone, heavy with arrogance, as if they own the moon itself. Well, maybe they do.
And me?
I'm the nothing that sweeps their floors.
The Mating Moon is tonight — sacred, forbidden to humans. Yet here I am, carrying a tray of goblets so fine that my reflection trembles in their silver rims. The wine inside them glows darkly, laced with something that hums against my skin. Every drop is for a wolf's throat. None for the likes of me.
"Keep your eyes down, slave." The guard's voice rakes through me.
I nod quickly. My hands are already shaking.
The hall is enormous, the torches glowing blue from the moon's enchantment. Wolves from every pack crowd the long tables, their laughter low and hungry. They're all waiting — waiting to find their fated mates under the Moon's gaze.
I don't belong here. I never have.
But when the King summons more servants, no one refuses. Not even the ones too human to survive the wolves' attention.
I slip through the crowd, clutching the tray so hard my fingers ache. A few wolves turn their heads when I pass — some with disgust, some with amusement. One of them mutters, "How bold of the King to let a human breathe our air tonight."
I keep my eyes down.
The King himself sits at the far end — Alpha King Adolwolf Boris, his silver crown gleaming like a fang under torchlight. Beside him, Queen Luna Adolwolf smiles faintly, her beauty cruel and cold. Around them, Elders in dark cloaks murmur chants to call on the Moon's blessing.
The hall grows quiet.
My heart hammers. Even the air stills.
The ritual is about to begin.
The Elders raise their staffs, chanting in the Old Tongue. The torches flare brighter, blue to white. The scent of ozone and burning wood fills the hall. Wolves close their eyes, surrendering to the call — waiting for the Moon to whisper their destined names.
The pull of the magic is suffocating. My knees weaken. My tray tilts — I catch it just in time. The guard snarls, "Careful, human!"
I stumble backward, nodding quickly.
But as I turn to move, someone collides into me. The tray slips. Wine spills, crimson against the pale stone — spreading like blood at the feet of the high table.
Gasps ripple through the hall.
"Fool!" the guard snaps. "Do you know where you've spilled?"
I fall to my knees instantly. "I— I'll clean it, I swear—"
He hesitates, glancing toward the King's table. The wine has spilled right beside a chair — one carved of black iron and lined with silver runes.
Empty.
Every other seat around the high table is taken, but not this one. Wolves avert their eyes from it like it's cursed — like even looking too long would invite death.
My stomach drops.
Of all the places to spill, it had to be there.
The guard's face drains of color. "Do it quickly," he mutters. "And pray he doesn't come in."
He doesn't say who he is.
He doesn't need to.
I set the tray aside and drop to my knees, scrubbing the floor with a rag. The wine is thick and sticky, staining my fingers red. My pulse is wild.
Every whisper in the hall feels directed at me now.
The human will die for this.
The seat of the cursed one… she touched it.
But I can't stop. If I don't clean it, they'll whip me. If I do, they might still kill me.
When the rag slips from my grip, I reach farther to grab it —I slipped almost fell to the ground but I was lucky enough to support myself with one of the seats — my hand brushing the edge of the iron chair.
A jolt hits me.
Like lightning, but deeper. Inside.
My breath catches. The runes on the chair pulse faintly, silver through black metal, like they've awakened from sleep. I snatch my hand back, heart slamming against my ribs.
What was that?
The air around me thickens — heat, scent, power. The hall grows unnaturally silent. I don't look up until the torches flicker, one by one, as if bowing.
Then I hear it.
Boots. Slow, heavy.
A ripple goes through the room — every wolf lowering their head, every whisper dying.
He's here.
Dolph Hati.
The Cursed Alpha.
The King's Blade.
The wolf whose name mothers whisper to frighten their pups into silence.
I quickly lifted myself from the seat, went down on my knees beside his empty seat. The scent hits me first — wild pine, cold rain, and something darker, older. It coils through my lungs, wrapping tight around my chest.
My instincts scream at me to run.
My body doesn't listen.
He walks past the guards without a word. His presence is a storm; even the King's aura seems to shrink beneath it.
When his shadow falls over me, I finally look up.
And everything stops.
The man standing there is both nightmare and a miracle — tall, scarred, his eyes burning with a feral light that's not quite gold, not quite silver. The curse marks his skin in faint lines that glow like the runes on his chair.
Our eyes meet.
The world falls away.
A heat crashes through me, searing from my chest to my bones. I gasp, clutching my throat, feeling something deep inside me respond — like a chain snapping, like the moon itself gasping in my veins.
Every wolf in the hall feels it too.
The air explodes with sound — growls, shouts, horror.
"Impossible!"
"She's human!"
"Kill her before it spreads!"
My vision blurs. The noise pounds through my skull. The bond — whatever it is — burns bright, demanding, unstoppable.
He doesn't move. Doesn't blink.
Then, slowly, Dolph Hati turns toward the others, his voice breaking through the chaos — cold, commanding, deadly:
"She is mine."
The hall freezes.
I can't breathe.
His words fall like a blade, cutting through the madness. The Elders recoil. The King rises in fury.
"Yours?" Adolwolf Boris snarls. "That creature is human!"
Dolph doesn't even glance at him. "She sat beside me because fate demanded it."
The King's power flares — a visible wave of golden energy — but Dolph's aura hits back harder. The very torches bend toward him.
I don't understand any of it. I'm just kneeling there, hands trembling, trying to breathe while every pair of eyes in the room burns into me.
The Queen's voice cuts sharp and cold. "End it before the bond completes."
Guards move instantly.
But before they can reach me, Dolph steps forward. A growl rips from his chest — low, thunderous, enough to shake the ground beneath us. The air fills with his scent, sharp and primal.
Every wolf stops moving.
I don't know why, but I do the stupidest thing imaginable. I whisper, "Please…"
His gaze snaps to me — those impossible eyes softening for half a heartbeat.
"Don't be afraid," he murmurs, voice low enough that only I hear it.
But I am afraid. Every inch of me is. Not just of them — of him. Of the way his voice sounds like it's spoken my name a thousand times before.
The King's hand slams against the throne. "Guards!"
Swords unsheathe.
In one motion, Dolph grabs me by the wrist — his touch searing — and pulls me to my feet. The bond between us pulses violently, as if alive.
Power bursts from him, invisible but crushing. Wolves fall back, some gasping, some howling in pain. The Elders' chants die mid-breath.
"Anyone who touches her dies," he says.
No one moves.
The silence that follows is absolute. Even the King's fury hangs suspended, drowned by the force of Dolph's power.
He turns back to me slowly, his grip loosening. For the first time, I see something behind the feral calm — a flicker of pain, of confusion.
"Why are you human?" he asks softly.
I open my mouth, but no sound comes. I don't have an answer. I don't even know what I am anymore.
The bond hums between us — wild, raw, impossible. I feel it in my heartbeat, in the trembling of my fingers. He feels it too; his eyes darken, his jaw tightening as if fighting some invisible command.
Around us, whispers rise again.
The curse has chosen.
The Cursed Alpha has found his mate.
A curse.
A bond.
And me — the slave who spilled wine in the wrong place.
Dolph straightens, his expression unreadable. "The Moon has made her choice," he says to the King. "Defy it, and you defy her."
Then he takes my hand.
The room exhales — one collective, horrified sound.
His skin is cold and burning all at once. The mark of the bond surges like fire between our palms — faint lines glowing, matching his curse. I can't pull away, even if I wanted to.
He leans close, voice a whisper that cuts through the roaring in my head.
"You've just changed everything, little human."
Before I can speak, he turns — and the guards part like the tide.
He leads me out of the hall in silence. The weight of every stare burns against my back. My mind is chaos — fear, disbelief, something else pulsing in my chest that shouldn't exist.
At the doors, I glance back once. The King's face is carved in fury; the Queen's eyes gleam with promise of blood.
And in that moment, I realize something that freezes me more than any threat:
This isn't protection.
This is possession.
And whatever I've just been claimed by…
…it's far darker than love.
End of Chapter One