Bound by the moon

The Courting Pit

The Courting Pit

⸻

The gathering ring was carved into the earth like an arena—stone benches rising in a half-moon, a bonfire crackling in the center. The full pack was present tonight.

Lucien stood at Rhea’s side, hand lightly on her lower back, a subtle reminder: You’re safe. You’re mine.

But even Rhea could feel it.

The tension. The scrutiny. The whispers that stopped when she looked their way.

They weren’t celebrating the Binding.

They were waiting for it to fall apart.

And then she arrived.

Sable Nightwind.

Wrapped in black leather that clung like smoke, her long silver-blonde braid coiled over one shoulder, Sable moved like a shadow given form. Her walk was slow. Purposeful. Predatory.

Rhea’s spine stiffened the moment their eyes met.

Sable didn’t blink.

She didn’t speak to Lucien.

She walked right up to Rhea—and smiled.

“New blood,” she purred. “The human.”

Rhea held her ground. “Rhea.”

“Mmm. Of course.” Sable’s eyes flicked down her body. “I’ve heard… so much about you.”

Lucien’s voice was low and warning behind her. “Sable.”

But Sable raised her hands in mock surrender, her smile never faltering.

“Peace, Alpha. I come with no challenge.” She turned to the crowd, letting her voice carry. “Only curiosity. If she is to stand beside you, surely she can stand on her own.”

Then she turned back to Rhea—and stepped inside her space. Close. Too close. Her fingers ghosted along Rhea’s jaw. Soft. Testing.

“She smells like you,” Sable murmured, voice low enough that only Rhea (and Lucien) could hear. “But she doesn’t smell like pack.”

Rhea’s heart pounded. “What do you want?”

Sable’s smile deepened. “To know if you bend only for him… or if you know how to bend at all.”

Gasps rippled through the watching wolves, but no one interfered.

This was allowed.

It was political theater.

Dominance by suggestion.

And Lucien? He couldn’t stop it without looking like he didn’t trust his mate to hold her ground.

Rhea swallowed hard.

Then she did the one thing Sable didn’t expect.

She leaned forward. Just enough to let her lips graze Sable’s ear and whispered:

“You’d have to be strong enough to hold me down first.”

Sable’s eyes widened—for a flicker of a second—and then narrowed.

Lucien’s hand tightened at Rhea’s hip, possessive, proud… and dangerously aroused.

Sable stepped back, licking her lips.

“Interesting,” she said lightly. “Perhaps the girl does have claws.”

She turned and vanished into the crowd like mist, leaving behind stunned silence and the sharp scent of tension in the air.