NOT HER

CHAPTER 1
The rain was supposed to wash me clean.
It was my sister's wedding day, and the whole of the Silverfang pack was inside the hall — drinking, laughing, celebrating the perfect union of Seraphina to the Alpha King.
Seraphina, beautiful. Seraphina, graceful. Blessed Seraphina.
And me? I was outside in the mud, in a black dress that used to be hers, trying not to be seen.
I was always good at not being seen.
"Elara? Elara, is that you?"
I wiped my face. The rain had mixed with my tears until I couldn't tell them apart.
"Mother said you left." Seraphina stood under the awning in white, dry and perfect, the silk of her dress worth more than my whole life. "You should be inside. Kieran is about to make his vows."
I couldn't look at her. If I looked, I would break.
"I'm leaving," I said. My voice didn't sound like mine. "After tonight. Tell Mother not to look for me."
"Leaving?" That soft laugh everyone loved. "Don't be dramatic, Elara. You have no wolf. Where would you even go? No pack wants a girl like you."
The word landed like a stone. Wolfless.
Twenty-three years old and no wolf. No voice in my head, no warm weight under my ribs, none of the things everyone else had. Just me. Empty.
That was why Kieran Thorne was marrying her. The Alpha King needed a strong Luna, not a broken girl who couldn't shift.
"I know." The rain was getting harder. "That's why I have to go."
I turned toward the forest. Let the rain take me. Let the cold take me.
Then his scent hit me.
Pine. Storm. Alpha.
"Stop."
One word, and my knees buckled — wolfless as I was.
Kieran Thorne stood at the edge of the trees, his black suit soaked through, dark hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes glowed that Alpha blue.
He wasn't looking at Seraphina.
He was looking at me.
"Kieran?" Seraphina's voice cracked. "My love — the priest is waiting—"
He didn't hear her.
Two steps and he was in front of me, close enough that the heat of him cut through the cold. Water streamed down his face. He wasn't breathing right.
"What's your name?" he asked.
I shook. "E-Elara."
His nostrils flared. He inhaled — slow, like he was memorizing me — and every muscle in his body went rigid.
"No," he breathed. Except it wasn't a word anymore. It was a growl, more animal than man.
Seraphina's laugh died. "Kieran, what are you doing?"
He lifted his hand. Large, rough, scarred — a hand made for war — and it cupped my wet cheek like I was glass. His thumb wiped away a tear I hadn't known I was still crying.
Then he said the word that wrecked my sister's life and started mine.
"Mine."
Seraphina made a sound like she'd been struck.
"You're my mate," he said. Rain dripped from his jaw. His eyes burned blue. "Not her. You. All along — it was you."
I couldn't breathe. "I have no wolf. I can't be — I'm not—"
"You are."
He yanked me against his chest. I beat at him, pushed — he was stone, he was fire, he didn't even feel it. His mouth found my neck.
I felt his teeth.
The world went white — pain like lightning, burning up through every bone — and I screamed into the rain. He was marking me. On my sister's wedding night. In the mud. In front of her.
Seraphina screamed louder. "KIERAN, NO!"
His arms locked around me like steel. Beneath his skin something was howling — I could feel it shuddering through him, possessive and final, like a beast finally let off its chain.
When he lifted his head, I was shaking. Bleeding. Marked.
His bite glowed faint blue at my throat.
He pressed his forehead to mine, breathing like he'd run for miles.
"Now everyone will know," he whispered. "You're my Luna. Not her. Never her. You, Elara."
Behind us, my perfect sister in her perfect white dress fell to her knees in the mud.
And she looked at me like she wanted me dead.
