His Luna BY Law

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

LYRA

The Blackthorne Pack grounds were bursting with celebration. Tables lined with platters of roasted meat, sweet berry tarts, and goblets of red wine were spread out beneath the open sky. Music throbbed through the air—low drums and flutes creating a festive rhythm that pulsed alongside the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation.

Pack members danced in swirling dresses and loose shirts—warriors boasting tales of border victories, elders in long cloaks sharing murmured predictions over cups of spiced mead. Everyone had gathered for the rare and sacred Mate Ceremony, a tradition that hadn’t occurred in over a decade.

And I was at the center of it all.

I didn’t know why I had been summoned—only that the Council of Elders had declared it a divine command. I was told that I was his, the Alpha’s fated mate. I wasn’t given a choice—just a dress, a necklace to show my acceptance, and a warning not to speak unless spoken to. My heart thundered in my chest as I stepped into the heart of the celebration, the scent of roasted herbs and sweat and wine swirling around me.

People paused mid-bite and mid-laughter. Their gazes snapped to me like arrows—curious, suspicious, and judging. I swallowed and held my head high, even though my fingers trembled.

Then he entered. Alpha Daemon Blackthorne. Tall, dark, and maddeningly beautiful in a way that made it hard to breathe. He wore a black embroidered jacket, the silver crest of the Blackthorne Pack shining like ice over his heart. His eyes scanned the crowd like he already owned the world—then landed on me, and something cracked.

.The bond… it was real.

My knees nearly buckled.

His lips parted slightly, a flicker of confusion passing through his expression. Then it was gone—replaced with cold disdain. He walked slowly and purposefully until he stood before me. The crowd hushed. The drums ceased. My chest heaved—waiting, and hoping.

The silence stretched.

Then he spoke.

"You?" he said. His voice felt like a razor against my skin. "You’re what the Goddess saw fit to gift me? A pitiful, weak little thing that couldn’t even command her own shadow?"

Whispers erupted through the crowd, and I could barely breathe.

"She’s your fated mate, Alpha," one of the elders said cautiously, stepping forward.

Daemon tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with contempt. "I don’t need a mate to rule. I need strength, power—and that," he pointed at me like I was filth beneath his boot, "is not power. That’s a burden."

I felt my heart rip, even though I barely knew this man.

"Rejecting the Goddess’s choice could destabilize the balance," another elder warned. "The mate bond…"

"The mate bond is a chain," Daemon growled, stepping forward, his voice rising like a storm. "And I don’t wear chains. Take her away."

Gasps echoed.

But I didn’t wait. My eyes stung, and my vision blurred. I turned and walked off the stage, down the stone steps, past the murmurs and stares. I didn’t care where I went—anywhere but here. Anywhere but beneath his gaze.

I didn’t know where my strength came from, only that it carried me far away into the night. My feet took me into the dense forest outside the packhouse, branches whipping at my arms, and tears blinding me. I only stopped when I collapsed near the river, sobs wracking my body.

Hours passed—or maybe more.

Then I felt him.

I didn’t turn—because I didn’t have to. The air grew heavy, like the storm had followed him. I heard the crunch of his boots against the leaves, slow and deliberate.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone," Daemon said, his voice lower than before.

I laughed bitterly. "And what should I be doing? Begging you to accept me? f**k that."

He moved closer—too close—and I could feel the heat from his body.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he growled. "The bond chose you. But I didn’t."

I stood up, my fists clenched at both sides. "Then why are you here? Why follow me if I’m nothing to you?"

His eyes flared gold. "Because the moment you walked away, my wolf howled like I’d been gutted. I don’t want you, but I can’t stay away."

I slapped him, but he caught my wrist.

We stood there, breathing hard—our chests rising and falling like we were at war.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was hunger and rage and pain, all rolled into one. He kissed me like he hated me—like he hated himself more. I clawed at him, bit his lip, and tasted blood… his blood.

He spun me, pushed me against a tree, tore my dress at the seams. His mouth burned down my throat, across my collarbone, down to my breasts. I gasped as he bit my n****e, then soothed it with his tongue—his hands gripping my waist like he could mold me into something new.

"Say it," he growled.

"Say what?"

"Say you hate me."

I couldn’t. I wanted to. I didn’t.

His hand slid between my legs. I was wet, and he cursed under his breath.

"f**k, you’re already mine."

He didn’t ask, and I didn’t stop him. I lifted my leg around his waist, and he plunged inside me with a brutal thrust that stole my breath. We moved like animals—crashing and clashing, pleasure laced with fury. I bit his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. He flipped me to my knees, f*****g me from behind, his hand buried in my hair, pulling my head back so he could whisper in my ear:

"You’ll remember this. You’ll remember me."

When I came, it was a scream. When he did, it was a roar.

Then silence.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did I. I just pulled the torn pieces of my dress together, wiped the tears off my cheeks, and walked away without looking back.

And by morning, I was gone.