He Stood Me Up Eight Times, So I Married His Alpha Uncle

Alison's POV: My name was Alison Shadowfang. Tonight was the eighth time I stood before the Altar of the Moon Goddess, waiting for my fated mate to complete the Marking Ritual. Members of the Silvermoon Pack had gathered around the altar. Their whispers coiled around me like poisonous vines. I could smell their pity mixed with mockery—it made me sick to my stomach. "There she is again," someone muttered. "Eight times now. Hawk can't even bother to give a decent excuse anymore, can he?" Another said, "The Shadowfang Pack is so desperate for those Moonlit Vines. They'd send their daughter here to be humiliated like this." I straightened my back and dug my nails into my palms. The pain kept me focused. It kept the damn tears from falling. Moonlit Vines were the only thing keeping my mother alive. The rare plant grew only by the Moonglow Pool, deep in Silvermoon territory. Three years ago, my mother was poisoned protecting our pack from the Bloodclaw Pack. Now, those vines were all that sustained her. Hawk Silvermoon, future Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack, was my fated mate—or so my father and the elders claimed. Seven full moons, seven times he'd skipped our Marking Ritual. He always had an excuse: patrol duty, border disputes, even once claiming he'd "sensed his fated mate" and had to follow the trail. What a joke. If I weren't his fated mate, why did the Moon Sacred Stone glow when we first met? Why could I feel his wolf's restlessness whenever his emotions ran high? Tonight, the moon hung directly above. The altar shone with its brightest light—the perfect moment for the marking. Miss it, and we'd have to wait another month. Hawk never showed. Someone in the crowd snorted loudly. My father—Alpha of the Shadowfang Pack—stood at the edge of the gathering. His face was dark. I read the message in his eyes, "Endure this, Alison. For the pack. For your mother." Just then, my younger sister, Lila Shadowfang, slipped through the crowd and pressed a cold Image Stone into my hand—a crystal that could store and replay memories. Her eyes were wet. She whispered, "Alison, don't look... but you need to know." I clenched the stone. My werewolf senses already picked up the scents clinging to it—Hawk's, mixed with a woman's sweet perfume, and the smell of s*x. I turned away, blocking the view, and channeled a thread of Wolf Spirit Power into the stone. Images flashed in my mind. It was our mating house—the one I'd spent a year preparing, on the cliffs east of Silvermoon Pack. I'd decorated it with flowers and vines from the cliffs, following every traditional custom, just because Hawk once said he liked things classic and traditional. Now, Hawk and that woman—Cella Turner—were tangled on the bed I'd prepared. The scene was crude. Cella was a rogue. She'd shown up at the edge of Silvermoon Pack land three months ago, claiming her pack up north had been destroyed. She had fiery red hair and expressive eyes. The moment Hawk saw her, his gaze changed. In the vision, Cella breathed heavily, trailing her fingers down Hawk's chest. "You're really not going to the altar? Skipping the eighth time... Alison will lose it." Hawk laughed, a scornful sound that pierced me like an ice pick. "Let her wait. The Shadowfang Pack depends on our Moonlit Vines. What's she going to do?" Another man cut in—one of Hawk's lackeys, Brent Sawyer, "Honestly, Hawk, you should just mark Cella instead. A stiff girl like Alison doesn't deserve to be our Luna." Hawk rolled over, pinning Cella beneath him, his hands rough and possessive. "She's just part of a deal. Once I'm Alpha, the first thing I'll do is break off this mating and kick her out of the territory. The only one lying beside me will be Cella." The vision ended. I almost threw up. This was the man I'd waited three years for. When I first learned about the arranged mating, I wanted to refuse. But he was the one who stood by my mother's bedside and promised to care for me, to treat me well for a lifetime. When I was sick, he stayed up all night. When I was sad, he told silly jokes to cheer me up. When did it all change? My fist clenched so tightly that the sharp edges of the Image Stone cut into my palm. Blood dripped onto the ground. The whispers around me died—everyone caught the pheromones bursting from me: pain, rage, the volatile warning of a betrayed wolf. "Alison..." Lila grabbed my trembling hand. I shook her off and faced the altar. The moonlight was already tilting westward. The perfect moment had passed. A young werewolf in the crowd—one of Hawk's usual followers—said loudly, "Looks like our future Alpha found his real mate. Shouldn't some people take the hint and crawl back to their dying territory? As if a girl from some minor pack could ever deserve Silvermoon Pack's heir." Anger burned away the last of my restraint. I turned on him, baring my teeth, my wolf stirring beneath my skin. "Say that again." He flinched but didn't back down. "I said, a female rejected eight times isn't even worth an Omega's..." He never finished. In the next instant, he was thrown backward by an invisible force, hitting the ground with a grunt. "Keep talking, and I'll kill you." A cold voice cut through the silence. Everyone caught his scent—clean, powerful, like winter cedar from the deepest woods. It was Reyn Silvermoon, current Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack, Hawk's uncle—the strongest werewolf in the region. He stepped out from the shadows behind the altar. He stood six feet three, all dense muscle, with impossibly handsome features. The moment he appeared, every female in the crowd stared, captivated. Except me—for some reason, I feared him instinctively. He was also the one who offered our pack aid three years ago. Back then, he stood by my mother's sickbed and promised a steady supply of Moonlit Vines, along with protection from our enemies. But to keep the alliance, I had to mate with that bastard. He was our pack's savior, yet I still... feared him. His gaze swept the crowd before locking with mine. Those deep gray eyes held no pity, no mockery—just an unreadable intensity. Then, he gave a slight nod. I didn't know what it meant. Approval of my patience? Or mockery of my shame? It didn't matter anymore. I was done enduring. I pushed through the crowd, every eye on me, and walked to the edge of the altar. Moonlight fell on my pale face. I felt every stare—curious, sympathetic, gleeful. My father moved to stop me, but I stepped aside. I raised my hand, not toward anyone, but toward the fading full moon in the sky. With everything in me, I let out a long, piercing howl. It wasn't a cry of sorrow or a roar of anger. It was a declaration—an ancient wolf oath, one only Shadowfang Pack females used in desperate times. My grandmother taught it to me: Sworn by moonlight, sealed in blood, every insult would be returned tenfold. The howl echoed through the night, startling birds from the trees. The crowd fell completely silent. I lowered my hand and turned to Lila. My voice was eerily calm. "Tell father I'll solve the Moonlit Vines problem my own way." "Alison, what are you going to do?" Lila's eyes were wide. I didn't answer. I'd already seen him—on the other side of the altar, Reyn was walking away. A wild plan formed in my mind. I would mate with Reyn, the strongest werewolf.