His Luna His Mistake

°KARA° I am officially sold now. I always knew my father would trade me off like a signature on one of his deals. But what I didn’t expect was how easily he underestimated me. The lace clings to my skin like a second betrayal. It scratches my shoulders, suffocating, every thread a whisper of control. Beneath the fabric, my skin prickles—hot with shame, cold with rage. The dress is flawless—custom silk, hand-stitched by Luna-approved seamstresses. It cinches at the waist, flares at the hips, and glitters like obedience beneath the chandeliers. I look every bit the bride my father wants me to be. A mannequin of perfection. A doll in war paint. And yet, my breath comes tight and shallow, like my ribs forgot how to stretch. Beneath the ivory silk and painted smile, I am burning. The heat coils in my stomach, rising to my throat—rage trapped behind a smile I’ve stapled on. Outside the stained-glass windows, the Blood Moon has risen. Crimson and swollen, it hangs above the mountains like a warning—or maybe a promise. The only night on which wolves can find their true Mates and claim them. The elders say it blesses sacred bonds. They don’t know I chose tonight for what it might also break. “Stand still,” my father snaps, adjusting the veil like he’s correcting a crooked contract. The veil itches. It ghosts across my cheeks, a phantom of submission I didn’t choose. I blink fast, willing the burn behind my eyes to stay hidden. “You’ve done well,” he murmurs, smoothing down my sleeves like I’m a product being polished. “One night, and everything we’ve lost will be returned. The council will watch. The packs will obey. And you will—” “Smile,” I finish for him, my voice flat. “You will walk down that aisle, Kara,” he says, low and cold, “and you will not embarrass me.” I glance at him sideways. “Embarrassing you would require me caring, wouldn’t it?” His grip tightens around my elbow. Pain shoots up my arm. My teeth clench, but I don’t flinch. I’ve learned how to wear pain like perfume. “Tonight, you fix what your mother ruined.” He always goes for the throat. “You’re wrong,” I murmur. “She didn’t ruin anything. She just had the misfortune of loving someone like you.” He exhales through his nose. “Enough. They’re waiting.” The music swells. The doors open. Aisle. Altar. Applause. It’s like walking through a dream I’ve been trying to wake from. My heels click against the floor—each step a countdown. My lungs barely expand under the corseted bodice. Every breath feels borrowed. I float through a haze of candlelight and murmurs, every eye watching me like a prized auction item. The groom waits at the end. Aleric Vane. Polished. Powerful. Wolf-blood royalty. His eyes rake over me, cold and clinical. CEO. Alpha-blooded. Politically useful. Barely tamed. That’s all I am to him. Or maybe more. He smirks—not kindly—as I approach. A curl of possession in his expression. Like I already belong in his bed, under his rule, behind his leash. I imagine spitting on his shoes. My tongue burns with the urge to curse him. My jaw aches from holding it back. Instead, I climb the steps. Aleric extends his hand. I don’t take it. My father, still gripping my wrist, crushes my hand in his, forcing it forward until Aleric clasps it. His fingers squeeze, hard and punishing. Not bruising—warning. “You’re mine from now,” he says under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. I meet his gaze, calm and cutting. “Let’s see if I will be.” The corners of his mouth twitch—offended, maybe impressed. A robed elder steps forward with a silver dagger on a velvet cushion. “Kara,” my father snaps under his breath. I inhale once. The scent of roses and wax hits the back of my throat, sickeningly sweet. My pulse hammers in my ears. But I keep my chin high. Then offer my other hand. The blade glints under the Blood Moon. My hand is turned palm-up. The slice is clean. The sting comes sharp and hot, and blood beads immediately. It drips down my wrist, a silent scream in red. My fingers tremble slightly. But I force them still. Aleric offers his hand next. He doesn’t wince when the blade cuts him. Of course he doesn’t. He’s a wolf bred to dominate, not feel. The cloth is ready. The elder raises it to bind us. There’s still time. There’s a small part of me that still thinks—maybe. Maybe this farce will go unnoticed. Maybe fate is as dead as I pretended it was. Maybe I’ll walk away from this with my pride intact. My wolf starts pacing, and I think even she opposes this. Her claws scrape the inside of my ribcage. My skin itches with the pressure of her resistance. “Do you accept this bond, Kara Livingston, under the light of the Blood Moon, before the Pack, and the Council?” I open my mouth. The last of my hope trembling in my chest. My lips part, but the words catch. Like thorns in my throat. This is it. All my plans. All my strength. And it still isn't enough. “I, Kara Livingston—” Bang! The ballroom doors explode open, the crash echoing like thunder. Wind blasts down the aisle, tearing through the ceremony, scattering petals, rattling the chandeliers, extinguishing every candle. Moonlight floods the room—blood-red, wild, divine. Gasps. Whispers. The rustle of chairs scraping back. Aleric releases my hand, a snarl twisting his lips. I don’t turn. Because I feel him before I see anything. My breath halts. My heart stutters—then gallops. Every nerve in my body rises like it’s hearing a forgotten song. The scent hits me first—ash and pine, smoke and storm. A scent that should have faded with memory. A scent that branded my soul once and never let go. My soul stirs. My bones remember. My wolf stops pacing. Then speaks—just one word, laced in something fierce and broken and whole: MATE. And for a second, everything inside me falls silent. No rage. No mask. Just ache.