Forbidden Bond

The great hall never felt smaller than it did at night. I wrung the rag into the bucket and moved to the next section of stone floor, keeping my head down, my movements quiet. The feast had ended an hour ago. The warriors were gone. The candles were burning low. Just me and the silence. That was fine. I preferred the silence. “You missed a spot.” I didn’t look up. I already knew the voice. “Where?” I asked flatly. Cara crouched beside me, pointing at a dark stain near the base of the long table. She was seventeen, a year younger than me, with bright eyes and a mouth that never stopped moving. She was also the only person in the entire Stormcrest pack house who treated me like a human being instead of a ghost. “Right there,” she said. “Looks like someone spilled wine. Again.” “It’s always wine.” “It’s always Beta Harkon,” she corrected, lowering her voice and suppressing a grin. “That man cannot hold a goblet to save his life.” I twitched the corner of my mouth. Almost a smile. Almost. “You should eat something,” Cara said, sitting cross-legged on the floor like she belonged there. “You didn’t touch dinner.” “I wasn’t hungry.” “Zeph.” She sighed dramatically, long-suffering and warm. “You skipped breakfast too. And lunch. That’s three meals.” “I’m aware of how meals work,” I muttered. “Are you, though?” She tilted her head. “Because someone who understood meals… would actually eat them.” “I’ll eat later,” I said. “Promise?” “Cara.” I gave her a flat look. “Fine.” She rose, brushing off her dress. But she lingered. “The ceremony guests arrive tomorrow,” she said quietly. “Alpha Roen of the Dusk fall Pack. Three other Alphas too.” I kept scrubbing. “I know.” “That means he’ll be around more. Visible. Present.” “I know that too,” I said. She hesitated. “Just… keep your head down, yeah? Don’t give anyone a reason to notice you.” “When have I ever given anyone a reason?” She didn’t answer. Just squeezed my shoulder once, smiled softly, and slipped out. The silence returned. I went back to scrubbing. The east corridor was last on Mara’s list. Quiet. Moonlight streaming through narrow windows. Stone walls cold against my skin. I pushed open the heavy door. Stopped. He was there. Alpha Draxon Vael. My whole body froze. He stood at the far end, back to me, hand braced against the stone wall, staring at the full moon. Dressed in his dark shirt from dinner, sleeves rolled up, shoulders heavy with a presence that could crush anyone foolish enough to challenge him. I should have left. Quietly. Come back when he is gone. But I didn’t. One step. Floorboard creaked. He turned. Our eyes met. And something hit me. A current that began in my chest, spreading outward until it burned my fingertips, my throat, the backs of my knees. Warm. Devastating. Terrifyingly familiar, like a word in a language I had never learned but somehow already knew. His eyes were dark, unreadable, fixed on mine. Intense. Heavy. Recognition flickered across his face. Almost human. Almost soft. Then gone. Door closed. Armor back in place. “What are you doing here?” His voice was low, controlled. Carefully controlled. “I’m cleaning. Mara sent me. The corridor needs it before the guests arrive.” Silence. “Then clean it,” he said finally. He walked past. Slowed as he reached me. A heartbeat longer than it should have been. “What’s your name?” The question was soft. Tentative. Like he already knew and just wanted me to speak it aloud. “Zephyrine. Zeph,” I said. He said nothing. Walked out. Doors swung shut. Mate. The word whispered in my chest. Not loud. Not demanding. But unbearable. I pressed my hand against the cold wall. No. You are wrong. You must be wrong. His pack destroyed mine. His father took everything. He could not be my mate. The moon outside didn’t care. I picked up the bucket. Finished scrubbing the corridor. Later, I sat on my cot, staring at the ceiling. The creak of the floorboards, the faint rustle of curtains, every sound exaggerated. Cara would never understand. No one could. My wolf stirred, restless. Urgent. The pull of something forbidden. The weight of a bond I wasn’t allowed to have. I closed my eyes. Tried not to think. But sleep wouldn’t come. Not tonight. Not ever again, it felt like.