The gathering
1119 Words
A sharp knock came through the door, pulling Dolora from the tangle of sheets. She sat up quickly, her heart thudding. Theon had left some time ago, slipping out after she’d pulled on his shirt.
The knock came again louder this time, sounding impatient.
Dolora’s fingers tightened around the soft fabric of his shirt.
Theon wouldn’t knock.
“Come in,” she said, her voice smaller than she intended.
The wooden door creaked open, and an older woman stepped inside. Her hair was streaked with silver, neatly tied back beneath a black-and-white scarf. In her hands was a tray, and her eyes swept over Dolora from head to toe, pausing on the oversized shirt she wore. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips, she knew what they had engaged in.
“Good morning, miss,” she said finally, her tone cool. “Future Alpha Theon asked that I bring you breakfast.”
Dolora’s stomach growled in response before she could speak and instead, she nodded slightly, motioning for the woman to set it down.
The tray was placed on the bedside table with a soft clink. The woman lingered, her lips twitching in amusement at her unspoken thoughts. ‘Another girl, another morning’
“You should leave soon,” the woman murmured, straightening her dress. “It is not good to linger.”
Dolora looked up sharply. “I’m waiting for Theon. And I don’t think I’m leaving anytime soon.”
The woman’s smile faltered. “Have some shame, dear. Do yourself a favor and go.” Her voice dropped to a warning hiss, the warmth behind it disappearing.
Dolora’s chest tightened, but she knew how to handle herself. “You’ve done your duty. You may leave.” She gestured toward the door.
The woman’s eyelid twitched, but she obeyed. “If you wish to face the wrath of the future alpha, that’s on you,” she scoffed, before stomping out and slamming the door behind her.
For a long moment, the room was silent again. Dolora exhaled, shoulders slumping. Then she turned to the tray,warm bread, eggs, and a glass of milk. Her mouth watered in hunger and she dived into the food.
When she was done, she moved into the bathroom. The scent of Theon clung to the room. She turned the knob, letting warm water cascade down her body, washing away the traces of the night.
As she reached for the shampoo, she paused. The scent, deep cedar and amber. It was Theon’s scent. Her wolf stirred restlessly inside her, humming with recognition. She closed her eyes and inhaled.
Soon she came out, steam trailing from the bathroom, a neatly folded dress lay across the bed. A soft purple gown that reached above the knees.
She took a cautious step toward it wondering who had left it.
A sudden sound of a throat clearing made her jump. She spun around to find another maid standing by the door. This one was younger, nervous, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Good day,” she said with a quick bow. “Alpha Theon requests your presence in the fields immediately.”
Dolora blinked. “Now?”
“Yes, miss.”
The maid didn’t move until Dolora nodded. Then she slipped out as quietly as she had come.
Dolora picked up the gown. The fabric was soft, almost silken, fitting perfectly once she slipped into it. She admired herself in the gown for a moment. But her pulse was quickening.
Why the fields?
When she opened the door, the same maid was waiting with a polite smile. “Shall we?”
Dolora followed her down the wide staircase, the same one Theon had carried her up the night before. Now, in daylight, she took in the beauty of the packhouse. Polished wood. A few but elegant furniture. The air smelled faintly of pine and smoke.
They walked through the great hall and out into the sunlight. She turned once to glance at the building, the home of her mate. The thought made something in her chest tightened and a small blush rose to her cheeks.
The path to the fields was familiar. She’d grown up here, played in these woods before she lost her parents. The maid ahead of her said nothing as she trotted happily in front of her.
Finally, as the fields came into view, her wolf stirred again. He’s close.
Her steps slowed. The grass was cool beneath her feet, and as she looked ahead, she saw them, dozens of them. The entire Jereel Pack gathered in a wide circle.
Dolora froze. The low murmur of voices rolled across the field like a wave.
The elders stood at the front, cloaked in ceremonial gray. Beside them, the Beta, the Gamma, and the pack’s elite warriors. Theon was at the center, broad-shouldered and commanding, sunlight glinting off his dark hair.
She stared at the crowd in confusion but was happy to see her mate present.
Theon’s head turned, sharp, purposeful. His eyes locked onto hers instantly. She felt the pull, the bond between them humming like a live wire.
Without hesitation, he began to move toward her.
Dolora stood rooted as he approached, each step measured, his gaze never leaving hers as he took in the purple dress.
When he reached her, his gently held her hands in his.
“I want to introduce you to everyone,” he said, voice low but firm. “As my mate.”
Dolora’s mouth fell open. “Wh… what?” Her voice trembled.
He had said earlier he was simply going to inform them, she had not expected the public declaration.
He leaned in slightly, so close she could feel his breath against her ear. “I told you this morning, I want them to know who their Luna is.”
Luna.
The word rang in her mind, she was indeed going to become the Luna of the whole Jereel pack.
Her heart thundered in her chest. She searched his eyes for any hint of doubt, but found none. Slowly, she nodded, and their fingers intertwined.
As he led her forward hand in hand, gasps rippled through the crowd. Murmurs rose and some eyes widened in shock; others narrowed in disapproval.
Dolora could feel every stare piercing her, some curious, some cruel. A wave of unease crawled up her spine.
Still, Theon didn’t waver. He maintained his grip on her hand as a form of assurance.
As they stepped into the center of the field, the murmurs grew louder, the pack whispered in disbelief, envy, and scorn.
Dolora’s wolf whimpered quietly within her. And for the first time that morning, she wondered if the maid had been right.
- Writer
