PORSCHA

***

The sun's rays strike my eyes in dazzling bursts. Wincing, I wait for my vision to adjust.

The aisle, a spearing length of golden carpet, divides the space into two worlds—one seating the members of Ironpeak, and the other seating members of Pinecrest.

The tension in the air is palpable; a jarring contrast to the lilting strings and gentle bells. The hostile buzz increases as all eyes swivel to me, the Pinecrest wolves' eyes full of scorn, while Ironpeak's gazes hold the light of suspicion and disgust.

Well, it seems they've finally found common ground in something. Maybe, then, this arrangement can be called off?

Nope, no chance. I force my eyes forward. Powdery white petals have been strewn across the aisle, matching the seats' ivory silk covers and lace detailing. Then there's the gazebo at the front, a modest white-painted building adorned with an assortment of purple tulips and hyacinths.

My eyes trek to the marble altar, manned by an elderly man with white wisps for hair. And then—

My breath catches in my throat, and my heart stutters to a stop. The hairs on the back of my neck strain. Every fiber in my body is screaming 'run', but I can't, because there is just something so arresting about Alpha Raiden's violet gaze.

A black iciness bleeds into my veins, and I suddenly understand why I can't move. Terror. I'm terrified of him, just by his stare alone.

I take precious seconds to assess him, like prey evaluating its chances to escape a predator. I instantly know that he's not like the other Alphas I've met. No, where they have a superior air to them—demanding submission merely because hierarchy calls for it—he has a deadly presence, forcing submission regardless. Where the other Alphas need to bark commands to get people in order, Alpha Raiden doesn't need to—just a whiff of his wrath is enough to get people to behave.

My entire body begins to tremble. No. I cannot be bound to this man for the rest of my life. He's cruel. He's terrifying. He's a tyrant. I can just feel it in the way he carries himself, the way his deep purple eyes bore expectantly into mine.

My eyes begin to water. I want Jericho. Jericho is a good man—comfortable, kind, and, most importantly, safe. I do not want this person before me. He's dangerous, unfamiliar, and...cold.

There's a pinch on my arm from Apha Michael, and my legs begin moving from the ingrained instinct of obeying commands, despite my mind sprinting far in the opposite direction. I avert my gaze from those violet pits.

Alpha Michael passes me off to the altar, and even then—standing directly opposite the Ironpeak Alpha—I cannot bring myself to meet his gaze. I can feel his eyes boring holes into my forehead, though. Maybe he's devising ways to lobotomize me, so that I'll be a more agreeable Luna under his care.

If this wasn't such a nightmarish moment, I may have laughed at myself for that.

The crowd is dead silent. My breathing rattles in my ears, and I'm half-convinced Alpha Raiden can hear the desperate pitter-patter of my heart.

"Dearly beloved," the elder begins in a gentle voice. I flinch. "We are gathered here today in the sight of the Goddess and in the presence of these witnesses to join Porscha Maye and Alpha Raiden Ironpeak in holy matrimony."

My bottom lip trembles. I bite down on it. Alpha Raiden is still boring holes into my forehead.

"Today, we celebrate the love and devotion Porscha Maye and Alpha Raiden Ironpeak have for each other and their desire to build a life together, grounded in faith and love. Let us begin this sacred ceremony by inviting the presence of the Goddess into our midst through prayer."

I almost laugh at that. Love. I do not love this man—I do not even know him! The only reason I'm even standing at this altar is because my current Alpha is a piece of shit, and this guy is an even bigger piece of shit for agreeing to this.

The elder recites a prayer, and I cast my eyes toward the crowd, needing a reprieve from the suffocating presence before me.

I instantly wish I didn't. A familiar face stands off to the side, just behind the furthest lemon tree, and a boulder forms in my throat. Jericho. He stares at the whole thing with an air of disgust and resentment, but when his eyes lock mine, they gleam with hurt.

I begin blinking back tears. I want to run into his arms. I want to cry apologies and explain to him why I couldn't meet him under the elm last night. Most of all, I just want to feel his warmth, but I can't—I'm frozen, suspended in time like some petrified fossil.

My bottom lip wobbles. A pressure forms behind my eyes.

"Alpha Raiden Ironpeak," the elder says, drawing my attention back to the ceremony. I make the mistake of meeting my intended's eyes, and my heart sinks to find them blazing with fury. Did he catch me looking at Jericho?

"Do you take Porscha Maye as your Luna and future mate, for all and ever eternity?"

"I do," he grits out, not breaking my gaze. I hold his with surprising tenacity.

"Porscha Maye," the elder says, turning to me. "Do you take Alpha Raiden Ironpeak as your Alpha and future mate, for all and ever eternity?"

I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it—my eyes slide to Jericho. His expression has morphed from hurt to pleading, silently begging me not to go through with this.

But what choice do I have? I return my attention to the elder. My throat is too tight for words, so I just nod.

The ceremony instantly moves on. Nobody cares that I couldn't manage an 'I do', even though it's required. It just goes to show how little I'm valued in this arrangement. I could have said No and everyone would have just pretended not to hear it.

I don't meet Alpha Raiden's gaze for the rest of the ceremony, but I do—after a minute—slide my gaze as discreetly as I can to where Jericho stood. I'm numbed to find him gone.

And just like that, whatever we had has come to a close. I've lost Jericho for good.

That alone breaks my heart more than any of what has transpired in the last twenty-four hours.

The wedding wraps up with a final vow—something about until death do us part or some bullshit—and when the moment for applause and tears arrives, everyone is dead silent. After an uncomfortable minute, people rise from their seats and retreat into their assigned worlds—Pinecrest or Ironpeak. Regretfully—and without a glance my husband's way—I join Ironpeak's side.

I don't bother with goodbyes. I'm sure no one from Pinecrest would want to talk to me now that my last name has changed, and attempting to approach my old friends would just stain their reputation. So, instead, I watch them in sullen silence as they turn their backs and walk away.

Just like that, I'm forgotten. Years of friendship down the drain. Although I understand their shunning of me, I can't help but feel resentful. I poured my heart into those people. Many of them know my deepest insecurities, my brightest dreams, my darkest secrets. Now, they prefer to act as though I don't exist.

There's a lesson here, somewhere—I know there is—but I don't allow myself to think about it.

A brown-haired man approaches and introduces himself as the Ironpeak Beta. He leads me out the rose garden towards the front of the manor, while the rest of the pack hangs back for Alpha Raiden. In the driveway, several gleaming black cars are lined up.

I stare at them. Such commodities are reserved only for the higher ranks of a pack, because traversing to the human world to buy cars takes time, and that's neglecting the logistics of going back for fuel, oil, and everything else the machines require.

I'm led to the smallest car at the front. The Beta opens the back door and motions for me to climb in. Once I'm inside, he shuts it, telling me the Alpha will join me in a moment. Then, with a nod at the driver, he departs.

Forlornly, I stare out the tinted windows. I watch the Omegas and Deltas spill out into the cul-de-sac, alive with an excited and slightly violent buzz. They transform into their wolves, taking off in the direction of the dreaded north, towards Ironpeak territory. A group of werewolves who I assume to be Gammas—that is, people directly related to the Alpha—pile into the vehicles behind me, and the Beta joins them in one of the cars.

Then comes Alpha Raiden. The mere sight of him sends icy barbs wrapping around my heart, squeezing urgently as though in warning.

I shrink away from the window. I expect him to approach the car so that we can ride home together—as is customary of newlyweds, I suppose—but instead, he shifts into a great, black wolf and begins sprinting after the pack. He doesn't so much as look my way.

⋆ ☽⋆☾ ⋆

The drive to Ironpeak Manor isn't that long—maybe two hours max. The whole time, all I can think about is what's to come, the dreaded mating ritual that will likely destroy me.

Eventually, the car pulls into a cul-de-sac, and I have to admit—begrudgingly—that Ironpeak's pack manor is much nicer than Pinecrest's.

Where Pinecrest's is bland yet inviting, Ironpeak's estate is grand and imposing, a dark jewel nestled in a world of shadow and mystique. The stone exterior is dark, a weathered slate that seems to absorb the sun, and large, angular windows give the place a modern yet timeless feel. The roof slopes dramatically, covered in dark cedar shingles that gleam faintly in the daylight.

Unlike Pinecrest's simple marble-and-mortar aesthetic, Ironpeak feels more refined, like a place that could weather any storm. The landscaping is just as impressive, with towering pines lining the driveway, their needles dusting the ground in soft brown hues. There's a sense of quiet strength to the place, a kind of beauty that's raw and natural.

The car pulls to a stop, and with a jolt, I realize I'm the first one here. Without a word, the driver rushes out to open my door. I step outside with a flicker of hesitation.

Needles crunch under my feet. The air is several degrees colder on my skin. I inhale a lungful of pine and earth, before breathing it out in a sigh. It's shocking just how different the surroundings are, as though the world of elms and endless summer is not a hundred miles away, but a thousand.

I stand awkwardly as more cars pull into the cul-de-sac. The Gammas spill out, pointedly ignoring me, while the Beta makes it to my side right away. He walks me into the manor, whose interior is as darkly beautiful as its exterior—polished granite tiles, light gray walls, cool tones and earthy colors coloring the furniture and decor.

He gives me a brief rundown of what to expect as he leads me to the fourth floor of the manor, the one reserved for the Alpha. Once there, he points out a black-painted door; the Alpha's room. He then leads me to a door on the opposite wall, one that has been painted gold. My room. He ushers me inside.

"Alpha Raiden will be back soon," he says. "He'll meet you here."

Then, he shuts the door, and I am left alone.

The curtains are drawn. I decide to pass the time by laying on the bed. It's huge—a four-postered thing made of solid gold, with white gossamer curtains that have the same delicate appearance of spider silk. If my heart wasn't pounding so hard and my head wasn't so faint with anxiety, I may have even taken the time to admire the golden beauty of the rest of my room.

After what feels like an eternity, the doorknob jerks, and light spills inside.

I sit up. Alpha Raiden stands at the doorway, a shadowy presence that makes my heart race with terror. He's wearing a disheveled dress shirt and pants, something he hastily threw on after he shifted back to his human form.

For several moments, we just stare at each other, like two animals sizing the other up. I didn't get to take in his appearance before because the startling intensity of his eyes blinded me to everything else. Now, though, the novelty has worn off, and the rest of him is visible to me.

He's tall, easily breaking past six feet, and corded with lean muscle that renders him both powerful and lithe. Upon his head is a mop of dark hair, blacker than the empty space between stars, while his skin is honey-toned and sun-kissed. His face—as much as I hate to admit it—is devastatingly handsome, with full lips, high cheekbones, and a cutting jawline dusted with black stubble.

I swallow thickly. I can't help but wonder what he's thinking as he takes me in, with my limp buttermilk hair, wan skin, and dispirited eyes. Does he see a broken girl? Someone fallen from glory? A breeding machine? Probably the latter, I think bitterly.

He moves forward, snapping me out of my thoughts. He makes it to the foot of the bed and stops again, eyeing me carefully.

I hold his gaze. Traditionally, mate claimings occur during intercourse, but I'm certain neither of us want that, so we silently agree to just get the main event over with.

He climbs onto the bed. My back is ramrod straight, and my breathing has reduced to shallow flutters as he makes his way toward me. When he's no more than a foot away, there's a moment of tense silence, as though he's unsure whether to touch me or not. He merely settles on tucking my hair behind my ear before bearing my neck to his mouth.

I shut my eyes. His hot breath washes down my nape, canines scraping uncertainty over my skin. Then, they sink into my flesh, and my entire world explodes in an array of sensation and color.

It's unlike anything I've ever felt. In moments, I'm ripped from my body and hurtled into the sky, past the atmosphere and towards the stars, and then I'm lost among them. I feel him there, too, and like two asteroids on a predetermined course, we collide, exploding in a brilliant burst of heat and noise.

It's beautiful. It's painful. It's euphoric. We meld together, as though our very substances have been melted and reformed in a shared mold. I feel him in every inch of me—in my heart, in my lungs, in the very fluid of my cells. I am no longer just a single person, but two people sharing the same body.

Slowly, we return to earth, and I open my eyes to find him panting next to me. At some point, he collapsed down onto the bed.

I lie beside him, chest heaving and skin flushed with heat. The rite is complete—we're mates. The long-standing feud between our packs has come to an end. It doesn't matter that I despise his family name, or he mine. It doesn't matter that my heart belongs to another.

At least, that's what I tell myself as I silently come apart.

I try to keep it quiet at first, limiting my despair to silent tears and small tremors, but then the full weight of it hits me, and before I know it, my chest is convulsing with sobs, and every inch of me is trembling under the weight of it all.

Alpha Raiden doesn't touch me or offer words of comfort. Instead, he extricates himself from the bed and, without so much as a glance my way, leaves. He shuts the door with a loud slam, turning my sobs to anguished wails.

This isn't fair. I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this at all.