Chapter 1
1174 Words
Thump, thump, thump.
The knock at the door shattered the third kiss Jack had pressed against my face.
“Oh, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Seraphina said, her voice dripping with feigned shyness as she raised a hand to shield her eyes. As if Jack and I were doing something scandalous. We hadn’t even shed a stitch of clothing—just tangled in an embrace, lips brushing against each other.
“Even after taking my medicine, my heart still feels awful,” she went on, her tone fragile. “Jack, could you come with me to see the pack doctor?”
There were three of us in the room, but Seraphina’s pleading eyes locked solely on Jack. And Jack? He didn’t even glance my way for permission. When it came to Seraphina, her every whim trumped everything else.
His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face as he stepped toward her without hesitation. He wrapped his arms around her trembling frame. “Don’t cry. I’ll take you right now.”
Only then did he seem to remember I existed. He turned to me, his voice softening. “Baby, Seraphina’s not feeling well. We have already celebrated the engagement with family and friends during the day… How about I make it up to you another time? A private celebration, just the two of us.”
With that, he started to guide Seraphina out, her body tucked against his. I reached for his hand, desperate to hold him back.
“You don’t need to leave. Can’t we just call the doctor here?”
Reason screamed at me to stop—to not say those words. I knew the consequences. This was Seraphina, after all—the daughter of the Rose Pack’s last Alpha, a hero who’d fallen in the pack wars, entrusting his title and his frail daughter to Jack with his dying breath. Her delicate health? A scar from a childhood accident, courtesy of roughhousing with Jack.
Even though my wolf and Jack’s were bound by a primal, unshakable pull—destined to make me the Luna of the Rose Pack—in his family, I would always come second to her.
But reason be damned. Emotionally, I’d hit my limit.
At the engagement ceremony, they’d canceled the marking ritual between Jack and me because Seraphina couldn’t stomach the idea of her “brother” belonging to another woman. Then, tonight—the one moment I’d clawed out for just Jack and me—Seraphina had interrupted three times.
First, a shriek from downstairs when she stepped on a broken glass bottle. Second, a frantic search for her heart medicine, which Jack had to dig up from who-knows-where. Two hours in, and we hadn’t even peeled off a single layer.
“Oh, Layla, don’t be like that,” Jack said, his voice gentle but firm.
"You understand everything. You’ve always been so good at it."
That line again. It smothered every spark of defiance I tried to muster.
What did Jack and I have, really? No deep, unforgettable history—just the raw, instinctual pull of our wolves, guided by the Moon Goddess. Nothing more.
“Jack, feel my heart,” Seraphina whimpered, cutting through our standoff. “It’s beating so hard it hurts.”
Jack’s gaze slid away from mine. He brushed my hand off without a second thought and pulled Seraphina into his arms, leaving me behind.
I watched their retreating figures, a bitter smirk tugging at my lips. “What a perfect pair,” I muttered to myself. “If today hadn’t been our engagement, I’d swear they were the ones meant to be.”
The villa mocked me in silence. Blooming flowers, elegant décor, an unopened bottle of red wine, the faint bruise of a kiss on my neck, the white dress with its zipper barely undone—all of it taunted me. I grabbed the wine and chugged it straight from the bottle, the liquid burning down my throat as I stumbled out into the garden.
To hell with all this yielding.
If Jack and Seraphina’s bond was so unbreakable, why had the Moon Goddess let my wolf and his collide? Was this her guidance? Was becoming Luna some twisted trial I had to endure?
I shook the bottle, the last dregs of wine sloshing inside, and staggered through the garden. It was late—too late. I needed to go home.
Which brought up another bitter irony: there was no room for me here. Only Seraphina’s space existed in this house. She wasn’t “ready” to accept a new family member, they said.
In my drunken haze, a figure emerged from the shadows, drawing closer.
Was it Jack? Had he remembered tonight was supposed to be ours—our engagement night—and come back for me? The thought flooded my parched, aching heart like a trickle of cool water.
“You came,” I slurred, joy bubbling up. “That makes me so happy.”
I threw myself into the man’s arms, my lips hungry as they grazed his neck. “Let’s finish what we started, okay?”
He chuckled—a low, rich sound—and responded with a fervor that matched mine. His hands found the zipper on my dress, yanking it down completely, roaming my skin with shameless intent.
A moan escaped me as I melted into his kiss, collapsing against him. Our bodies tangled fiercely in the dark, but a sharp sting of pain snapped me back. It morphed into a shuddering thrill, then dread, as realization crashed over me.
The man who’d left his marks all over me wasn’t my fiancé, Jack.
It was his cousin—Nathan “Nate” Blackwood, the scorching-hot Alpha of alphas, the Wolf King, who ruled every pack in the country.
Panic seized me. I shoved Nate off with trembling hands, my voice shaking as I demanded, “Why—why didn’t you push me away when I threw myself at you?”
Nate didn’t flinch at my sudden shift. He stepped back lazily, a smirk curling his lips. Beneath his sharp brow, his deep-set eyes raked over me unapologetically, his tone laced with playful mockery.
“Sorry, darling. I thought this was the Rose Pack’s new way of welcoming an Alpha. Your fiancé, Jack, was so insistent I attend his engagement party. And you—from your looks to your scent—you’re exactly my type.”
“You—!” His infuriating logic left me speechless. How could I argue when I’d been the one to lunge at him?
Nate’s reputation preceded him across all five packs in the nation—ruthless, unpredictable, a force who’d clawed his way to the top in record time. Who’d dare cross him?
“Layla.”
His voice, magnetic and husky, scraped over me, paired with a gaze that felt like a physical touch.
“Before you get mad,” he drawled, “maybe put your clothes back on?”
- Writer
