Alpha's Luna

Chapter Two - Reluctance Kaine POV

The Council has a sick sense of humor.

Of all the ways they could sink their claws into me - taxes, decrees, pointless rituals - they choose this. A mate. An Omega bride, signed and delivered like she’s meat in a crate.

I don’t need a Luna. Better still, I don’t want one. My pack doesn’t need a soft voice murmuring obedience by my side. What Ironfang needs is teeth. Claws. Blood. And that, I’ve already given them.

I sit in the war chamber, elbows braced on my knees, staring at the maps spread across the stone table. Border skirmishes marked in red. Patrols stretched thin. Enemies sharpening their blades while the Council plays house with my life.

My scars itch beneath my leathers, old wounds that never quite fade. Every mark on my skin reminds me what it costs to protect this pack. And now, instead of reinforcements, instead of steel, they give me her. A distraction. A weakness I never asked for.

I rake a hand through my hair, tugging until the roots sting.

The truth is, I’ve seen what mates do to Alphas.

I’ve seen leaders topple because they couldn’t think past their bond. Seen wars lost because an Alpha chose his Luna over his soldiers. Love is a leash, no matter how the poets sing it. And leashes are for lesser wolves.

Not me. Never me.

The door creaks. Theo, my Beta, steps inside. His scent is all iron and duty, his face tight. He doesn’t speak right away, which tells me enough.

“She’s here, your grace” he says finally.

I don’t look up from the map. “And?”

Theo shifts his weight. “Not what I expected.”

A low growl vibrates in my chest. “She’ll be gone before long. The Council’s game will end, and I’ll send her back broken or bargaining.”

He doesn’t argue, but the silence stretches too long. I glance up, and his expression makes me pause.

“What?”

Theo shakes his head. “See for yourself.”

I sigh and walk up, to the throne room. With so much majesty and excellence. I sit on the throne, with my hand supporting my head. As if it is preventing my head from shaking on the neck. Then slowly I raise my head up.

The first time I see her, she’s standing in the torchlight of the great hall, flanked by my guards.

Selene Thorne. The Omega they’ve chained to my name.

She should look small. Weak. The kind of creature bred to bow and smile, too sweet to snarl. But she doesn’t.

She stands straight-backed, chin lifted, violet eyes scanning the hall like she’s hunting. Her hair catches the firelight, ash-blonde with silver glints, and for a moment the air shifts—charged, like the pause before lightning cracks the sky.

Her scent hits me next. Moonlight and stormwater. Sweet, sharp, dangerous in a way I can’t place. It coils through my chest, tightening like a fist, and suddenly every scar itches, every vein hums, like my body remembers something my mind refuses.

Mine.

The word slams into me, primal and ugly. I crush it down, locking it in the dark.

She doesn’t bow. Doesn’t even lower her eyes. Instead, she meets my stare, unflinching. Bold. Defiant.

Every soldier in the hall shifts uneasily. They expect me to snap her neck for insolence. Instead, I hold her gaze until the air grows thin.

Finally, I rise from the throne. My boots strike stone as I close the distance between us. I stop a breath away, close enough that her scent tangles with mine. Her pulse thrums visible at her throat, but she doesn’t look away.

“You’re late,” I say, voice low, clipped.

Her lips curl. “Blame your carriage. I was ready hours ago.”

A murmur ripples through the hall. An Omega with teeth.

I bare mine in return, just enough to show her she’s dancing with fire. But instead of paling, she smiles—crooked, sharp-edged.

Something deep inside me snarls, not with rage, but with hunger. I step back before the heat under my skin betrays me.

“Guest quarters,” I snap to the guards. “Lock her door. Post watch.”

Her eyes flash, but she doesn’t argue. She turns, walking with a grace too calculated to be meek. She disappears up the tower stairs, the guards trailing behind.

Only when she’s gone does the hall breathe again.

Theo approaches, voice low. “What do you think?”

I stare at the empty doorway. My hands flex, restless. My skin still burns with her scent.

“I think the Council just delivered me a problem,” I say.

But the truth curls, unspoken, beneath my tongue:

I think I’m already burning with fury. Perhaps she needs to know who is in control here.