The Dual Claim

Chapter 2 Soraya

The girl ahead of me whispered a prayer into her fist and stumbled into motion. She was all nerves and pearls, nearly tripping on the third step before catching herself.

He touched her wrist. Waited. Shook his head.

She made it all the way back to her mother before she cried.

“Next.”

My mouth tasted like metal and wax.

The room went quieter than it had been all night.

I moved because stopping wasn’t allowed. Just five steps. I could do it.

I kept my focus on the lowest step and lifted my foot.

Lucien Veyrac looked at me, and for a fraction of a second, everything else disappeared. Not because he was beautiful, but because the weight of his attention felt like a hand wrapped around my ribcage.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t frown. He watched.

I reached the top step. The dress suddenly felt tight and ugly. I stopped an arm’s length from him.

The elder shifted closer, the ritual book open, lips pressed thin.

Lucien didn’t meet me half way, he waited until I stood right in front of him and raised his hand to lay two fingers against my left wrist.

Skin to skin.

If the bond had a sound, it would have been the gong sound going off in my brain.

Something in my chest tightened, snapped, flared. My wolf surged, clawing to reach him, certain this was ours. And in his gray eyes, for a heartbeat, I saw his wolf answer—wild, unhidden, undeniable.

It was too much. I tore my gaze away before I fell to my knees, staring instead, at the hollow of his throat—his pulse. Suddenly wanting to lean in and take a long sniff.

Instead, I stood frozen, waiting to be told what to do.

The future Alpha took a step back, shaking his head.

“Lucien,” Elder Ansel whispered, voice cutting across the stillness. “You feel it. She is your mate.”

The words swallowed a hundred whispers whole. The air shifted as people leaned forward. Somewhere in the crowd, someone said, “No.”

Someone else laughed once, then stopped when no one joined them.

I looked up into Lucien’s eyes because I couldn’t not.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. His lip curled.

He blinked, slow, without surprise or joy. This was not a male celebrating finding his mate. His gaze slid past me as if pulled on a string and caught on the crimson silk waiting at the edge of the head table.

When he spoke, his voice carried to every corner. No one could pretend they hadn’t heard.

“I, Lucien Veyrac of the Silverpine Pack, heir to the Alpha Corren, reject you, Soraya Wane, as my mate.”

The last word cracked across the marble like a whip.

For one fleeting instant, my wolf had felt his—raw and fierce, reaching for me. Then the bond snapped under his words. My wolf cried out, a soundless keening inside my chest, before recoiling as if struck. The burn twisted into something crueler, not just denial but rejection, a beating-down in front of the entire pack and every other pack in the area.

I gasped, and pulled my hand away from his.

Laughter burst and overlapped, bright, sharp, delighted. Not everyone laughed. Some people sucked in breath and held it, as if struck too. Some of the older men looked away.

The woman in crimson silk didn’t smile because the smile never left her lips in the first place. Regardless of the ceremony, she knew he would choose her. It was obvious to me now.

Elder Ansel stepped forward as if to protest, then stopped with his mouth open, eyes moving between Lucien and the rest of the council, and me.

The bond didn’t snap back. It didn’t shatter like glass. It just… burned.

I stood there silent, in front of everyone I would have to see tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after.

There was only one way for me to save face. Orielle jumped and snarled once she knew my intent. I threw up walls to block her from taking control.

“I, Soraya Wane, accept your rejection.” The words tore out of me. “I, Soraya Wane, Wane of the Silverpine pack, reject you Lucien Veyric as my mate.”

When the bond seared him in turn, I saw it—the faintest wince he couldn’t hide—and I clung to that sliver of satisfaction.

I didn’t want to cry in front of them, but the tears welled anyway.

I didn’t want to give them that, but I didn’t have a choice.

Tears spilled and rolled down my cheeks, hot and mortifying.

I felt the weight of a hundred eyes waiting. Waiting for the entertainment of it.

I lifted my chin because it was the only thing I could lift.

And then I turned before anyone could see anything else break.

My shoes struck the floor. In a mirror, I caught my reflection—eyes wide and wet, mouth pressed into a miserable line—and looked away just in time to avoid colliding with a server carrying a tray full of bubbly.

At the far side of the ballroom, between two pillars, an archway stood empty. Staff used it to move from kitchens to the great hall. I’d used it too, carrying platters like most Wanes and Omegas.

I slipped inside without a word. I leaned back, letting the sturdiness of the wall hold me up.

The noise of the ballroom halved the instant stone closed around me. Far ahead, a scuff of footsteps echoed and then faded. I crept along the hallway, doors lined the passage, one ajar with steam curling out and someone swearing softly over a spilled sauce for the decadent dessert.

I pressed a palm flat against my chest and told my heart to be quiet.

It thudded harder, as if it didn’t know how.

The next sobs hurt worse than the rejection.

I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop the next, but it still came, shaking my shoulders, clawing at my throat. Tears spilled fast and faster, staining the bodice.

From the hall, laughter rose again. Muted by stone now, but still sharp enough to find me.

And then Lucien’s voice carried through the open doors, clear and certain:

“I claim her as my mate.”

A roar of cheers shook the walls.

Against my will, I glanced through the arch at the very end of the ballroom. Through the c***k in the door, crimson silk shimmered in the candlelight—already at his side.

The crowd cheered again. I swallowed hard and ran toward the last door between me and the outside.