Alpha Vincent.
The priest smiles, almost warmly. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
My palms are damp, and he knows it—he hasn't let go of my hand. My heart spikes as he leans down toward me, lips close enough that I feel the heat of his breath. I brace myself for the inevitable kiss, but instead, he tilts just slightly, his mouth brushing my cheek instead.
His whisper is meant for me alone. "You might be pretty, but you are not the type of woman I'd ever love to kiss." he murmurs, his tone smooth as silk, sharp as a blade.
The sting is immediate, sharp enough to lodge in my chest. I had thought—naively—that recognizing him, remembering his small act of unexpected kindness three days ago, meant something. That maybe this wouldn't be a prison, but a chance. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.
But maybe I had been a fool.
He leans back, angelic smile gracing his lips, as though he has just sealed his vows with a kiss. To the guests, it looks perfect. To me, it feels like a warning.
Why would he say that to me? Why is he even marrying me?!
After our marriage has been officially sealed on paper, we walk down the aisle as a couple now. The guests rise to their feet, watching us with eyes that weigh and measure, as though I am an offering laid at the Alpha's feet.
Unlike human weddings, werewolf unions are never followed by grand feasts or lingering celebrations. Once vows are spoken, the couple is left alone—to bond, to mark, to claim. But there will be nothing to claim here. Nothing to celebrate. Not in this farce of a marriage.
We are not even mates. And while he is Alpha of the largest and most powerful pack_ I am nothing more than the daughter of a family with no leadership, no real standing in our own pack. My presence at his side is not respect, but mockery.
I force a smile, looping my hand gently around his arm as we walk past the rows of watching faces. Yet beneath the veil of music and soft clapping, whispers thread through the air, sharp and merciless.
"Such a waste of power… the Alpha deserved better."
"Look at her—pretty face, but no wolf. She'll never stand at his side in battle."
"She's fragile. How can a Luna lead when she can't even shift?"
The words slice deeper than they should. I have heard them endlessly before, but today, on the day I am bound to a man I barely know, they strike like claws across my heart. To them, I am unworthy—not fit to walk beside an Alpha, not strong enough to bear his weight, not wolf enough to be his mate.