Chapter Nine
1087 Words
The night faded softly into dawn, and Lyra’s dreams stirred restlessly.
She was running again—barefoot, through the forest, the wind cold against her skin, her heartbeat echoing like drums of war. The sound of wolves howling surrounded her—sharp, familiar, haunting. Then came the whisper. A voice she didn’t recognize, but one that felt like it lived inside her.
“Wake up, little wolf.”
Lyra gasped and sat upright in bed, her chest rising and falling. Sweat clung to her temples, and her breath came shallow. The dream again. The same one that had haunted her since the bond ritual. Each time, it grew clearer—the scent of pine, the rush of instincts, and that strange, primal voice calling her something she didn’t yet understand.
Little wolf.
She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a shaky sigh. “Why am I seeing this?” she whispered to herself. “I don’t even have a wolf.”
Her thoughts were spinning when the sound of the door creaking open startled her. She turned sharply—and froze.
Mistress Venn stood in the doorway, her face tight as ever, a folded gown draped over her arms. The fabric shimmered like liquid gold, the embroidery glinting in the soft morning light. It was a beautiful dress, far too beautiful for someone who used to scrub floors and serve wine.
Without saying a word, Mistress Venn entered the room, her sharp gaze sweeping over Lyra. “You’re awake,” she said flatly. “Good. You’ll need time to prepare.”
Lyra frowned slightly. “Prepare for what?”
“For the Feast of Bond,” Mistress Venn replied, laying the gown across the bed. “The Alpha has invited the nobles and the high-ranking warriors to celebrate your union. You are to attend, of course.”
Lyra blinked in confusion. Celebrate? There was nothing worth celebrating about a bond forced by the moon’s decree. But she didn’t say that aloud. Instead, she looked down at the gown, running her fingers lightly across its surface. It was heavy—layers of silk and metal-threaded patterns that shimmered when touched.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to wear this,” Lyra said quietly, glancing up. “It looks… too heavy. Is there another dress available?”
Mistress Venn’s lips curled into a smirk. “Another dress?” she repeated mockingly. “Do you think because you are now Alpha Kael’s mate, you can make demands?”
Lyra’s brows furrowed. “I wasn’t demanding—”
But the woman cut her off sharply. “Remember your place, girl. You may share his bed, but that doesn’t make you one of us. You worked under me, you obeyed me, and I will never see you as anything more than the slave you are. Do you understand?”
The words hit harder than Lyra expected. She stiffened, eyes widening. “Why are you talking to me like this?” she asked, her voice trembling but firm. “How is it my fault that I was tied to Alpha Kael? I only asked if there was another dress available.”
Mistress Venn laughed bitterly. “And do you think I’ll serve you now? Fetch another dress for a human who doesn’t even deserve the title she’s been given?”
Before Lyra could answer, a low, commanding voice echoed from behind them—cold and unmistakable.
“You will serve her.”
The air shifted instantly. Mistress Venn went rigid. Slowly, she turned—and there he was.
Alpha Kael.
He stood by the door, his dark hair slightly tousled, his sharp gaze fixed on the trembling woman. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as if his presence alone demanded obedience.
“Alpha,” Mistress Venn whispered, bowing immediately. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean—”
“Silence,” Kael said, his tone like steel. He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing. “You dare speak to my mate like that?”
Her throat bobbed as she struggled to form words. “I— I only—”
Kael’s gaze darkened, cutting her off. “If I ever hear you speak to her in that manner again,” he said quietly, dangerously, “I will kill you without a second thought. Do you understand?”
Mistress Venn paled. “Yes, Alpha.”
“Good.”
He nodded once, then added, “If she doesn’t like the dress, you’ll find her another. Now, leave.”
The woman bowed deeply before hurrying out of the room, her steps unsteady.
Silence settled.
Lyra stood frozen, her pulse loud in her ears. She didn’t know whether to thank him or feel angry that he’d seen her like that—helpless, humiliated.
“Thank you,” she said finally, her tone soft but distant. “But you didn’t have to step in. I could have defended myself.”
Kael turned to her, his expression unreadable. “You belong to me,” he said simply. “You’re my mate. And I will not tolerate anyone disrespecting you.”
His voice was calm, but there was a storm behind it—something possessive, something dangerous.
Lyra met his eyes. “Then why didn’t you defend me yesterday?”
Kael’s jaw tightened.
“At the council meeting,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “They mocked me. They said I wasn’t fit to be your mate. You sat there and said nothing.”
Kael said nothing. His eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe—but he didn’t speak.
Lyra let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”
She picked up the gown from the bed, clutching it close to her chest. “I’ll go shower and wear my dress.”
She didn’t wait for his response. She turned and walked toward the bathroom, her bare feet silent on the cold stone floor. The door shut softly behind her.
Kael remained where he was, his gaze lingering on the closed door.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Inside the bathroom, the sound of running water filled the silence. Lyra stood beneath it, letting the warmth wash over her, but her thoughts refused to settle.
Why was she dreaming of wolves? Why did her body ache at the sound of their howls? And why—despite everything—did part of her long to understand this strange bond that tied her to Kael?
- Writer
