Moonbound

Chapter One

The gown didn’t fit.

It clung too tightly across my chest, the satin digging into my ribs with every breath as my mother’s hands moved with quick, merciless precision. The mirror in front of me was a stranger’s reflection — pale skin, wild hair pinned into something meant to be elegant, and a hollow look in eyes that should have been full of joy.

“It has to be today,” Mother said, her voice brittle, the way porcelain sounds before it shatters. “If the ceremony doesn’t go ahead, the alliance collapses.”

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. “Then call it off. Find Selene.”

For a brief moment, I saw the truth—fear—flicker in her eyes as her hands froze on the buttons at my back.

For what would happen if I didn't go down that aisle, not for myself. "We're short on time. The pack of Thorn has already arrived.

They anticipate a bride.

"A bride," I said again, my tone piercing.

"Not a substitute."

She gripped my arm more tightly.

"You are your sister today." It was a slap of words. I wanted to tell her that she was crazy and that this was crazy, but a low, melancholy howl pierced the atmosphere in the distance.

My heartbeat faltered.

It was the Draven pack.

*******

Long after the howl had subsided, I could still hear it in my ears. It was deeper, heavier, and laced with something that made my skin prickle, unlike the vague wolf stories I had heard as a child.

Mother repositioned the veil to frame my face as she turned me back towards the mirror. "Have a positive attitude. Wait to speak until someone speaks to you.” “And don't appear scared in anything you do.”

I wanted to chuckle.

My heart was a pounding, chaotic mess in my chest, my palms damp against the bouquet they’d shoved into my hands.

Fear didn't even start to cover it.

My uncle, wearing a dark suit that somehow made his ever-present frown more intense, entered as the door creaked open. With a look that was a mix of sympathy and calculating, he said, "They're ready."

"The Alpha shouldn't be kept waiting."

Alpha. Now the title struck with more force, every word tinged with peril. With my skirts rustling on the floor, I trailed after them as they left the tiny room.

We walked into a hall that was completely different from the opulent, romantic settings I had seen in films.

It was large, with rows of candles inserted into iron sconces lighting it, and the stone walls absorbing their light.

The man I was going to marry was standing at the far end, surrounded by two enormous wooden doors that were flung open to the forest outside.

Thorn Draven, Alpha.

His presence struck me like a blow, even from the other side of the hall.

His dark hair swept back from a sharply lined face, and he was tall and broad-shouldered. As soon as I entered, his grey, cold, and completely unreadable eyes were fixed on me.

The rest of the room blurred for a heartbeat. Something like contempt curled at the corner of his mouth as his eyes shifted downward, looking at every inch of me.

I stumbled.

Formal and well-practiced, the officiant's voice rose. Like smoke, words about unity, bonds, and territory floated around me.

With every step I took towards him, my fingers tightened around the bouquet.

The air between us felt tense and charged with something sharp enough to sever flesh when I finally stood by his side.

The tiniest hint of his scent, cedar and rain on cold stone, lingered in my chest, and I detested it.

"Are you willing to accept—" Alpha Thorn Draven "I don't."

The words were final, icy, and unambiguous. The room echoed with gasps, whispers, and the scrape of chairs as people moved.

The officiant's eyes darted between us as she froze in the middle of her sentence. Thorn's eyes remained fixed on mine.

His voice carried easily through the hall as he declared, "This is not the woman I was promised." "I refuse to commit myself to a lie."

Heat surged to my face, the humiliation so sharp it almost took my breath. I wanted to move, to run, but my feet felt nailed to the stone floor. Every eye in the room was on me — strangers, enemies, witnesses to my unmaking.

“Enough,” my uncle hissed under his breath, stepping forward as if he could smooth over a rejection spoken like a sentence.

But Thorn had already turned away.

Somewhere beyond the doors, a howl rose again — this one closer, sharper, and threaded with danger. And for the first time, I realized the ceremony wasn’t just being ruined. It was being interrupted.

This time, the howl was louder, and it was followed by another, and another, until it reverberated like thunder rolling off the stone walls.

The noise drowned out the officiant's voice as he faltered. Heads turned towards the dark line of forest beyond the open doors at the far end of the hall.

Then the first shadow appeared.

A blur of muscle and fur, teeth flashing in the candlelight, it moved too quickly for my eyes to follow.

The front rows dispersed, chairs slamming to the floor as screams ripped through the room.

Someone yelled, "Rogues!"

The Draven wolves shifted into hulking shapes in an instant, their human forms shedding in violent bursts of movement, bodies rippling, bones snapping.

The smell of fur and something metallic and coppery—blood—filled the air.

I staggered back, holding on to the bouquet as if it were a shield.

My mother had disappeared somewhere in the yelling crowd, and my uncle had already left, engulfed by the mayhem. With wild, amber-glowing eyes, another rogue bounded through the doors.

It sped in my direction.

I went cold.

With my breath trapped in my lungs, my body resisted movement.

The deep, guttural snarl that vibrated through my bones, the ragged edges of its fur, and the strings of saliva hanging from its bare teeth were all too sharp.

Then everything slowed down.

The air thickened and the sound faded. With its claws hanging inches from my face, the rogue's leap seemed to go on forever.

Like fire trapped in water, even the flicker of candlelight appeared to move slowly. My heart hit my ribs hard.

My mind was filled with a low, urgent whisper that wasn't mine.

Get moving.

My hand caught on the edge of the table next to me as I staggered sideways. As I pushed the table forward with a strength I wasn't aware I possessed, my body felt both heavy and weightless.

Just as Thorn appeared, it struck the rogue with enough force to send them both skidding across the stone, knocking it off course and crashing into its chest.

Thorn rose from the tangle of fur and blood, his chest heaving. His wolf-gray eyes locked on me for the second time that day — but now there was no cold detachment.

Only suspicion.

And maybe, buried deep beneath it, something else.