Chapter 7: The Night Dancer is Future Alpha King?
1359 Words
Chapter 7: The Night Dancer is Future Alpha King?
(Aria's POV)
The ceremonial hall hummed with murmurs, voices blending into a low hum, as Alexander and I returned to our assigned table. My steps were measured, my face composed, but inside, satisfaction warmed me. Lady Grace’s unmistakable approval of my healing balm had left a mark on the gathering. The ripple effect was clear already, even as Diana burned with resentment.
“I have to take a call,” Alexander muttered suddenly, his phone vibrating in his pocket.
His gaze flickered with something I knew all too well — guilt. He didn’t wait for my response and walked hurriedly toward the estate gardens.
I stared after him, lips pressed tightly together. Of course, it’d be Sarah. It was always Sarah. A part of me wondered if I should feel something deeper, but instead, I found my attention pulled elsewhere.
My eyes wandered to the ancient artifacts displayed around the room. The curated selection spoke volumes about the Blackthorn family’s history. One particular collection held my focus longer than the rest — ceremonial moonstone crystals. Their soft, pulsing light seemed to carry the whispers of the past. Each crystal was a reminder of the royal bloodlines, of wolves far greater than most of us in this room.
“Excuse me?” A soft but confident voice broke into my thoughts.
I turned to find a young she-wolf standing before our table. Her silver dress shimmered in the light, perfectly tailored to her slim, athletic frame. With her straight-back posture and naturally regal air, it was clear she wasn’t just anyone.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said, flashing a polite but cordial smile. “You’re Aria Silverbrook, right?”
I blinked and nodded. “Yes.”
Her smile widened, genuine curiosity lighting her hazel eyes. “My name is Katherine Blake. My grandfather is the High Alpha of the Northern Territory.”
Her introduction carried weight, the kind of weight that only those born into power displayed so effortlessly.
Her gaze lowered slightly, her cheeks coloring faintly. “I couldn’t help but notice your presentation earlier with Lady Grace. The healing balm. It was... remarkable.”
A flicker of unease stirred within me. Praise wasn’t something I often heard outside the Storm Pack. “Thank you,” I replied simply.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice just slightly, as though sharing a secret. “The way you combined wolfsbane essence with lunar flowers is brilliant. I’ve never seen it done so seamlessly. I don’t suppose I could... ask for the recipe?”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “The recipe?”
She nodded quickly, her eagerness almost endearing. “Yes. My territory has been struggling with issues among our elder wolves during the moon cycles. What you’ve created could actually help them.” She paused, her tone turning lightly playful. “We could offer a portion of our northern hunting grounds in exchange.”
I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me. “You don’t need to offer anything. Healing knowledge should be shared, not hoarded.”
Her surprise was evident, but any response was interrupted as another young she-wolf approached. Then another. And another.
They introduced themselves with similar confidence. Daughters of Alphas. Granddaughters of council members. She-wolves born into legacies seemingly far greater than my own.
Their interest in me was disarming, their faces alight with curiosity. “Would you consider establishing pack bonds?” one asked sincerely. “We’d love to exchange knowledge. Your healing techniques could benefit all our packs.”
My wolf stirred with pride, preening under their attention. Being recognized for my abilities instead of being dismissed as broken or weak was... strange. Still, I kept my expression even. “Of course. I’ll share what I can.”
The conversation that followed was filled with quiet intensity as each she-wolf endeavored to make the best impression. I fielded questions as graciously as possible, though their interest began to draw attention.
Across the room, my gaze inadvertently strayed toward Diana and Luna Catherine. Diana’s frustration was plain, her lips tight with suppressed rage. She gestured sharply toward Catherine, her voice raised far enough for me to pick fragments through the bond.
“Why?” Diana snapped. “Why are they fawning over her? She’s—she’s nothing! Some packless impostor!”
Catherine’s pointed tone cut through her indignation with practiced ease. “Silent your tantrums. Don’t you see? They aren’t seeking Aria. They’re seeking favor with Lady Grace.”
“Favor?” Diana scoffed, openly mocking. “How do you know this isn’t just wolves creating a spectacle for attention? Dominic wouldn’t—”
Catherine silenced her daughter with a look. “Clearly, you know nothing of Dominic Blackthorn. If his grandmother values something, so will he.” Her voice softened, but her meaning echoed clearly in the pack bonds. “And if you have ambitions, mind your ego. It’ll cost you.”
I forced my expression to remain calm as fragments of their exchange passed through the bond.
The young she-wolves, oblivious to my growing discomfort, carried on with their subtle power plays.
“Katherine,” one teased lightly, her posture relaxed but quietly dominant. “You claim he visited your territory? Funny. I thought Dominic hadn’t set foot outside his grandmother’s estate in years.”
Katherine started slightly, her wolf bristling under the challenge. “Perhaps you’re mistaken. Or perhaps you’re jealous.”
Their soft verbal sparring continued, growing sharper with each passing moment. The name “Dominic” floated between them like a weapon they each sought to wield.
Katherine leaned closer to me, her gaze flickering with subtle awe. “You’ve met him, haven’t you? Dominic Blackthorn. What’s he really like?”
My heart stilled momentarily. “I wouldn’t know,” I replied evenly.
“He’s... captivating,” another she-wolf murmured wistfully. “Those golden eyes. That commanding presence. No wonder wolves speak of him as a god among mortals.”
Their admiration was laced with desire, their wolves stirred into quiet agitation by their praise for Dominic Blackthorn.
Then, suddenly, the pack bonds thrummed with a powerful surge of energy.
“The heir of the Alpha King has returned,” the Beta announced, his voice resonating through every pack connection.
The once-buzzing hall fell into a deafening silence. Every wolf present lowered their heads instinctively, responding to the overwhelming dominance emanating through the bonds.
The young she-wolves beside me immediately stilled, their eyes wide. Their wolves cowered obediently beneath the presence that approached. Even I felt Moonhealer shrink slightly.
I forced myself to look up as the source of the aura neared.
A single figure entered the hall.
He didn’t need to speak. The air shifted around him, the weight of his dominance pressing firmly onto everyone present. But it was his control that stunned me — his ability to adjust the pressure just enough to allow everyone to breathe while still demanding absolute respect.
He was tall, his presence larger than life, his steps deliberate and poised.
As my gaze finally reached his face, time seemed to freeze.
Those golden eyes, those sharp, impossibly handsome features — I knew them.
I knew him.
It wasn’t just recognition. It was like being struck by lightning, the pieces of a messy puzzle suddenly slotting into place.
My wolf whimpered, loud enough to unsettle my thoughts further.
He didn’t glance at me. His gaze moved over the crowd, cold and thorough, showing no signs of familiarity.
I remained frozen in my seat, staring in absolute disbelief.
Around me, whispers buzzed faintly as he passed.
“It’s him. Dominic Blackthorn.”
“The Alpha King’s heir.”
“He’s... incredible.”
Their words barely registered.
The man I had known for three years as Night Dancer, my mysterious lover, was walking toward Lady Grace as if the entire hall belonged to him.
Because it did.
He moved with the confidence of someone who had absolute command of life itself.
No. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Dominic Blackthorn was Night Dancer.
Alpha heir. Royal wolf. The most powerful werewolf alive.
- Writer
