The Vows
1013 Words
Lyra's Pov
The silence stretches, and I'm about to be rejected for the third time in a month.
Theron stands across from me at the altar, staring at me while the entire pack watches. Hundreds of eyes burn into us. The officiant repeats the question, voice steady but tense. "Do you take this woman as your contract mate?"
The room feels too quiet. Pack members shift uncomfortably. Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Damon stands beside Theron as his second, his face tight, ready to step in if needed. Elena watches from the front row, her satisfaction barely hidden behind a polite smile. My hands shake at my sides. Not again. Please, not again. My wolf whimpers inside me, distressed and desperate.
Theron's red-gold eyes lock on mine. I see the war inside him. The struggle. His jaw clenches so hard I think it might crack. Time stretches unbearably long. My humiliation builds with every second of silence. The mark on my neck throbs painfully, like it can feel his conflict too.
Finally, his voice comes out rough and low. "I do."
Relief floods the room like a wave. People let out breaths. The ceremony continues, but I cannot shake what I saw in his eyes. He almost refused me. In front of everyone. The thought makes my stomach turn.
The officiant moves to the next part of the ceremony. Traditional Luna binding. Theron must mark me publicly, reinforcing the claim in front of the pack. Symbolic. Powerful. He steps closer. His hand settles at my waist, steady but tense. The touch sends electricity racing through me. My breath catches. This is the first real contact since the forest, and it feels like coming home and falling apart at the same time.
He leans in, breath warm against my neck. "Forgive me," he whispers, so low only I can hear it. I do not know if he means for marking me again, for the contract, or for everything between us.
His teeth pierce my neck, right over the existing mark from the forest. Sharp pain flashes first, then explodes into overwhelming pleasure. The bond flares to life stronger than before. I gasp and grip his shoulders to stay upright. The pack feels it. The power of an Alpha claim rolls through the room. People murmur in awe.
When Theron pulls back, his eyes are pure wolf. Red-gold and possessive. For one brief second, his control is completely gone. "Mine," he growls, voice rough with need.
Then the mask slams back into place. The officiant pronounces us contract mates, bound for two years. The pack offers formal acceptance. "Luna Lyra of the Northern Territories." The words echo around the hall. I should feel something like triumph, but all I feel is the distance he is already putting between us again.
We moved to the grand hall for the reception. The space is massive, filled with long tables and important wolves. Theron and I sit at the head table, formal and distant despite the fresh mark on my neck. People line up to offer congratulations. Most are political, assessing me with careful eyes. Some lower-rank wolves seem genuinely hopeful for a good Luna. I smile through it all, but my face feels tight.
Damon gives a toast. His words are carefully chosen, honoring the contract while hinting at something more. Elder Cassius's toast is barely veiled criticism. "May this alliance prove as fruitful as hoped."
Theron's response is cold. "It will."
Elena watches from the crowd, her expression calculating. Visiting Alphas pay their respects. Several look at me with open interest. One in particular, Garrett Stone from the Western Territory, steps forward boldly. "Beautiful mark. Lucky man."
Theron's instant aggression is palpable. "Careful."
Garrett smirks. "Just an observation, Alpha. No offense intended."
The tension between them is clear. A challenge issued. A challenge received. I feel the power struggle in the air and stay quiet, observing.
The first dance is required by tradition. Theron leads me to the floor. The pack watches closely. His hand settles at my waist. Mine rests on his shoulder. This is the first time we are holding each other since the forest. We move together in perfect synchronization, like our bodies remember even when our minds fight it.
"You almost did not say yes," I say quietly.
Theron looks down at me. "I almost did not."
"Why did you?"
His grip tightens slightly on my waist. "Because watching someone else have you would kill me faster than loving you will."
The raw admission in the middle of the public dance steals my breath. "That is not how love works."
"I do not know how love works anymore," he replies, voice low.
The dance ends too soon. He releases me immediately and steps back like I burn him. The distance returns, cold and familiar.
The reception continues for hours with rituals and traditions. I grow more exhausted with every passing minute. Emotionally drained. The pack expects us to retire together to consummate the contract. Theron stands eventually and offers his hand formally. I take it. We walk from the hall while knowing looks follow us.
The walk to his wing of the estate is silent. Tension crackles between us. We reach his suite. He opens the door. My hope rises for one foolish moment. Maybe tonight changes things. Maybe he will let me in.
Theron stops at the threshold. "Your rooms are down the hall. Third door."
Devastation hits me hard. He is not even going to try. "We are married."
"We are contracted," he says flatly. "There is a difference."
I stare at him. "You marked me. In front of everyone."
"Tradition required it. Nothing more."
The lie is obvious, but he is committed to it. He turns and walks away without another word, leaving me standing there alone.
I walked to my separate rooms, my separate bed, still feeling his mark burning on my neck and his words burning in my chest. He'd called me his in front of hundreds, but wouldn't let me be his when we were alone.
- Writer
