CHAPTER TWO
1186 Words
Celeste’s POV
After hours of scrubbing the event hall for the Lunar Ascension Ceremony, polishing cutlery until my palms were raw and arranging the guest tables to the Elders' exact orders, I finally gathered the ceremonial robe I had spent all night ironing and placed it delicately on a silver tray beside the Alpha’s breakfast.
Warm bread, seared meat, and spiced tea—everything a newly crowned Alpha would want to wake up to.
I walked through the eastern wing of the packhouse, my feet aching in worn shoes, the tray trembling slightly in my tired arms.
As I neared the Alpha’s chamber, a strange scent brushed my senses.
It was a blend of dark chocolate, crushed berries, and… something stronger.
Musk and lust!
The air was thick with it.
The aroma grew stronger the closer I got.
Then I heard light giggles, followed by the unmistakable sound of a bed creaking rhythmically.
Soft moans echoed faintly through the door.
Moments later, four she-wolves exited the room, adjusting their gowns with smug expressions on their faces.
They didn’t even glance at me as they passed, and the scent of s*x clung to them like perfume.
Within a moment, I heard a voice.
It was Sela, my wolf.
“Celeste! Big news! The Alpha is your mate!” her voice was breathless with excitement.
I nearly dropped the tray.
“No,” I whispered mentally, heart pounding.
“It can’t be him.”
Dorian?
The same Alpha-in-waiting who had tormented me, who looked through me like I was no more than air?
Fate was playing a cruel joke!
Still, I gathered myself.
Whatever was happening inside me, my duties remained the same.
I was the servant. He was the Alpha. Mate bond or not.
I pushed the door open.
This time, as I looked at him, I felt the mate bond tighten around us like invisible chains.
His scent stirred something in me I didn’t want to feel—warmth, longing, and betrayal.
Sela whined softly in my mind.
“He’s ours. I feel it so strongly, Celeste. How can he not?”
As soon as I placed the tray on the table, Dorian, the Alpha-in-waiting, didn’t even spare me a glance. Instead, he just jabbed a finger toward the bed.
"Why are you just standing there like an i***t? On your knees! Scrub those filthy sheets now!" he snapped, his voice cold and laced with contempt.
My stomach churned as I turned my gaze to the soiled sheets.
They were disgustingly stained, the fabric crumpled and reeking of sweat and filth; thick blood and sperm!
I hesitated—this was the kind of mess best tossed straight into a machine.
But before I could take a step to the machine, his voice cracked like a whip behind me.
"With your hands."
I froze.
"No gloves," he added, his tone sharper, almost mocking.
“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? To scrub filth.”
Humiliation burned through me, but I said nothing.
Silently, I dropped to my knees, shoved the sheets into a bucket of cold soapy water, and began scrubbing barehanded.
My hands were numb from the cold water and the sickening task before me, but I finished it. Because I had to.
Because if I faltered now, it would be more than sheets I’d be punished for.
Dorian was watching me like a wolf ready to pounce.
Unable to contain the storm rising in my chest, now certain that he was my mate, the words tumbled out before I could stop them.
“Is this even fair?”
His jaw tightened.
For a split second, I thought he would explode—shout, maybe even lash out, but instead, he moved toward me with slow, deliberate steps.
His voice dropped, dark and dangerous.
He seized my hand in a firm, possessive grip, forcing me to face him.
His fingers tilted my chin upward, locking my gaze with his.
“You knew about the bond, didn’t you?”
I didn’t respond.
I met his eyes, cool and steady, masking every emotion behind an indifferent facade.
“And what did you expect me to do?” I replied coldly.
“Fall at your feet after watching four of your mistresses stroll out of your room?”
---
Dorian’s POV
The morning light filtered into my room, streaking across the tangled sheets and the scratches on my chest.
The she-wolves I’d invited had just left, still laughing, but I barely registered their presence anymore.
Something felt… off.
Then it hit me—soft at first, then stronger. A scent I’d never smelled before.
It was earthy and clean.
A hint of citrus, and something wild.
My entire body tensed.
“Mate,” Fenric, my wolf, growled. “She’s here.”
Before I could react, the door creaked open.
Celeste stepped in, holding my robe and breakfast.
Dressed in her usual tattered cardigan and faded skirt, her hair pulled back loosely.
Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor as she walked in quietly.
She looked like nothing, and everything. The room seemed to narrow down to her alone.
Fenric went wild inside me.
“It’s her! She’s ours!”
I froze.
Celeste. The servant. The daughter of the traitor Betas. The girl this pack treated like a shadow. My mate?
My wolf howled in agreement, clawing against my chest.
Celeste set the tray down and moved to place the robe over the armchair.
I'm sure she felt exactly what I felt just now, but she said nothing.
She didn’t react. Didn’t look at me. As if she didn’t feel it.
That stung.
Was she rejecting me?
Pretending this bond didn’t exist?
I didn’t like that feeling.
I stood, shirtless still, and pointed toward the filthy bedsheet.
“You’re awfully calm for someone who just found out she’s mated to an Alpha,” I sneered, unable to stop myself.
Her hands paused in the water. Finally, she looked up.
“Forgive me,” she said evenly.
“I didn’t realize I was expected to celebrate while washing away the stains of your last conquest.”
That hit harder than I wanted to admit.
I stepped forward, closing the space between us until I stood directly in front of her.
I reached for her hand, gripping it tightly and possessively, forcing her to look at me. Her chin tilted slightly, lips tense, but her eyes met mine without flinching.
“You knew about the bond, didn’t you?” I asked, my voice low and cutting.
She didn’t answer.
Her silence infuriated me.
“You felt it. Just like I did. So why the act?”
Celeste stared at me, calm and collected, like none of this mattered.
“What did you expect me to do?” she replied icily.
“Fall at your feet after watching four of your mistresses walk out of your room?”
She faced me with quiet fury, her pride so deeply buried beneath years of servitude it shocked me to see it rise now. But it was there.
And it made me want her even more.
- Writer
