The Dragon Alpha's Forsaken Luna

"You're shaking." Seraphina looked down at her hands. Mira was right. Her fingers trembled against the white silk of her wedding dress, rattling the tiny seed pearls stitched into the fabric. "I'm not cold," she admitted. Mira's reflection stared back at her from the cracked mirror. She was young and frightened and trying so hard to be brave. "I didn't say you were, my lady." The chamber beyond the door held two hundred guests. Two hundred wolves who had come to watch Seraphina Ravencrest become Seraphina Blackthorne. Two hundred people who would cheer and drink and forget her name by morning. "What if I can't do this?" Seraphina whispered. Mira stepped closer and took her hands. "You have to. Your father said if the alliance fails, the pack starves. He said you're the only one who can save them." "I'm not saving anyone. I'm being sold." The word hung between them, ugly and true. Mira's grip tightened. "Then be the most expensive thing they ever bought. Make them remember your name long after the coin is spent." A knock cut through the room. Three sharp raps. The kind that demanded entry whether you were ready or not. Seraphina smoothed her dress. "Come in." The door opened, and her father filled the frame. Alpha Lucien Ravencrest had once been a warrior who made enemies weep. Now he was just a man in ceremonial furs with gray in his beard and regret in his eyes. She could smell the whiskey on him from across the room. "You look like your mother," he said. "You look like you've been drinking." Lucien flinched. "This isn't easy for me either, Seraphina." She turned away from him. Mira slipped out of the room, leaving father and daughter alone with all the things they would never say. "Then don't do it," Seraphina said. "Call it off. Find another way." "There is no other way." "There's always another way. You just don't want to look for it." Lucien's hand landed on her shoulder, heavy and warm. "The Blackthorne Pack controls the northern trade routes. Without their grain, their timber, their protection, we don't survive the winter. You know this." "I know that you're selling your only daughter to a man who looks at me like I'm a piece of meat." "Dorian Blackthorne is a good Alpha. Strong. Respected." His voice dropped lower. "He will take care of you." Seraphina turned to face him. "Will he? Or will he take what he wants and leave me bleeding in the dark like Mother?" The silence that followed was worse than any scream. Lucien's face went pale, then red, then something that looked almost like shame. "That was different." "Was it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks exactly the same. You gave Mother to a man who broke her. Now you're giving me to a man who will do the same." "The ceremony starts in ten minutes. I'll be there." She lifted her chin. "Not because I want to. Not because I believe you. But because there are children in this pack who deserve to eat, and I'm not cruel enough to let them starve for my pride." Lucien opened his mouth. I closed it. For one moment, he looked like he might say something that mattered. Then he walked out, and the door clicked shut behind him. Seraphina touched her stomach. She had not bled in weeks. But that was probably the stress. Probably. --- The great hall blazed with candlelight. Seraphina walked down the aisle alone. No mother to escort her. No father willing to stand beside what he had sold. Just a girl in white silk walking toward a man she did not love and would never trust. Dorian Blackthorne waited at the altar. He was handsome in the way a storm was handsome. Dark hair. Darker eyes. A smile that promised nothing and took everything. She had met him three times before today. Three times too many. "Beautiful," he said when she reached him. "Expected," she replied. His smile widened. "Feisty. I like that." "You don't like anything about me. You like my bloodline and my womb and the land that comes with my name." Dorian chuckled. Around them, the guests murmured and shifted. Two hundred wolves pretending not to hear. "Can we skip the ceremony and get to the part where I make you mine?" "Can we skip the part where you pretend to be a gentleman and admit you bought me like cattle?" His eyes went cold. "Careful, little wolf. You're in my pack now. My territory. My bed." "I'm not in your anything yet." The priest cleared his throat. Old Marcus had known Seraphina since she was born. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world. "Do you, Alpha Dorian Blackthorne, pledge to protect and cherish this woman?" Dorian's hand found hers. His grip was too tight. His palm was damp. "I pledge." "And do you, Seraphina Ravencrest, pledge your loyalty, your body, and your future to this Alpha and his pack?" The room held its breath. Seraphina looked at Dorian. At his cold eyes and colder smile. At the man who would own her body before the night was over. She thought about running. She thought about screaming. She thought about every girl who had stood in this same spot and said yes because no one had ever given them another choice. "I pledge," she said. Dorian pulled her close and kissed her. His lips were firm and dry and absolutely without warmth. The wolves cheered. Glasses clinked. Music started somewhere in the corner. The wedding was done. --- The feast lasted three hours. Seraphina sat beside Dorian at the head of the table. She smiled until her cheeks hurt. She accepted congratulations from strangers who would forget her name by morning. She watched her father drink himself into silence at the far end of the hall. Through it all, Dorian kept his hand on her knee beneath the table. Possessive. Warning. Mine. "You're quiet," he said as servants cleared the third course. "I'm tired." "You've barely eaten." "I'm not hungry." Dorian leaned closer. His breath smelled like wine and something darker underneath. Anticipation. He was looking forward to whatever came next. "You'll need your strength for later," he said quietly. Seraphina's throat closed. "Later." "Our wedding night." His fingers tightened on her knee. "I've waited a long time for this. Don't disappoint me." She picked up her fork and ate a piece of bread so dry it scraped her throat on the way down. "Better," Dorian said. --- The private chambers were cold. Seraphina stood by the window while Mira unlaced her dress. Each tug of the ribbons made her feel more naked even though her skin was still covered. The fire crackled behind her. The wind howled outside. "Are you sure you don't want the potion?" Mira whispered. Seraphina had refused it once. The golden liquid that would numb her body and cloud her memory. The thing her mother had taken every night until it stopped working. "I'm sure." "Then at least let me stay until—" "No." Seraphina turned and took Mira's hands. "Go. I'll be fine." Mira's eyes glistened. "You're braver than any of them know." "Don't tell anyone that. Bravery gets you killed." After Mira left, Seraphina sat on the edge of the massive bed and waited. The sheets were white silk. The pillows were stuffed with goose feathers. Everything looked soft. Nothing felt soft. The door opened. Dorian walked in, already removing his coat. His eyes swept over her, lingering on the low neckline of her shift. "There you are." "Here I am." He crossed the room slowly. Enjoying the power of his approach. When he stood before her, he reached down and tilted her chin up with one finger. "You're going to give me strong sons." Seraphina did not look away. "I'm going to give you whatever the Moon Goddess allows." His smile vanished. "No. You're going to give me sons. Strong sons. Sons who will inherit both packs and unite the north under my name." "And if I give you daughters?" Dorian's hand moved faster than she could track. He grabbed her jaw, fingers digging into her cheeks, and forced her to meet his eyes. "Then you'll keep trying until you don't," he said. He released her and stepped back. "Take off your shift. I won't ask again." Seraphina's hands shook as she reached for the hem of her shift. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She would not give him that. She would not give him anything but her body. The fabric lifted. And the door exploded inward. Dorian spun around. "What is the meaning of—" He never finished the sentence. A blade emerged from his chest. Silver. Glowing with wolfsbane. Driven through his back with such force that the tip protruded from his heart. Dorian looked down at the metal. His mouth opened. Blood spilled over his lips. "Ser—" He collapsed. Behind him, holding the bloody dagger, stood the man Seraphina had called husband for only five hours. His younger brother. His heir. His murderer. Ronan Blackthorne wiped the blade on his sleeve and smiled. "Sorry about the mess, sister. But don't worry." He stepped over Dorian's body and reached for her. "I have plans for you.”