RAIDEN

***

I've decided that I'm not going to bother courting Porscha.

I was going to. Believe it or not, I actually looked forward to getting to know the mysterious Celestine, something that is much unlike me.

Truth is, I've met Porscha before, many years ago. She didn't recognize me at the altar, of course, but I recognized her. Sure, age had sharpened her features and matured her appearance, but the light blonde hair and melting golden eyes were still the same as when I'd stumbled upon her in the woods.

Back then, she'd been a girl of mere thirteen, and me a boy of seventeen. She'd just staggered out of the bushes—giggling to herself—when she saw me and came to an abrupt halt. I remember the curiosity and caution flickering in her gaze as she stared at me, a great black wolf who reached her chest in height. She looked small, helpless, and yet, she remained there with a quiet kind of courage—something I was so unused to seeing. Even back then, people routinely averted their gazes from mine. She didn't.

Something about her quiet bravery intrigued me, and ever since then, I couldn't remove her from my mind. I wanted to know more about the mysterious Pinecrest girl, the Celestine who didn't show any fear of me whatsoever.

But it was forbidden. Although I knew that, as an Alpha, I could request for an arranged mating with her, I always saw those arranged matings as barbaric, and so I was limited to the idea of her in my imagination. When politics intervened and a mating arrangement was made anyway, I was resentful of the circumstances, but also secretly exhilarated. I would finally put my curiosities to rest once and for all: was she truly something special, or was she merely a boyish obsession that I'd failed to grow out of?

But then I saw the way she had looked at that other man.

I knew within that instant that any hopes I'd had of courting her would be in vain. She was in love with that man, whoever he was. I could see it in the way she looked at him, and when her eyes returned to mine, the distraught in them confirmed it—as she saw it, she was trading in a life with him for me. I was the mere second option—no, scratch that, I wasn't even an option. She didn't fucking want me, period.

I almost called off the wedding right then and there. Not only was it incredibly humiliating and disappointing, but I didn't want to force her to give up the life she wanted for me. I didn't want a woman who would no doubt grow to resent me, no matter how well I treated her, all because I would never be the boy she left behind.

But I couldn't do that for the very same reason I'd struck the arrangement in the first place: this is all for her own protection. She just doesn't know it.

Now, I suppose, we will just go on ignoring each other. Life will be simpler that way. Easier.

"Raiden?"

I'm torn from my thoughts. Beta Tanner lounges on the green leather sofa up against the far wall of my office. In his right hand is a glass tumbler filled with amber liquid, and on his face is an expression of curiosity and subtle amusement. He raises his glass to conceal his smile. "Something on your mind?"

"Nothing's on my mind," I say a tad too harshly.

"Your knuckles are white," he observes, dipping his chin. Sure enough, my hands sit as balled fists upon my mahogany desk. I withdraw them with a muttered curse. "I haven't seen you this tense in a while. What's up, Rai?"

I stare at him. Were he anyone else, he would be punished for that crude abbreviation of my name. Even the Gammas—my own relatives—dare not address me without an 'Alpha' before my full name.

But Tanner is the exception to that rule, for the fact he is the only person in this world that I consider a true brother. And sure, he's not my brother by blood, but I learned long ago that blood does not matter in such things. When my own blood abandoned me—when my father neglected me because he saw my brothers as better Alpha material—Tanner stepped in. Despite being only five years my senior, he trained me up and made me into the man I am today. I owe everything I am to him.

Even so, that doesn't mean I have to answer his probing questions.

After several seconds of terse silence, he releases a sigh, pushing a hand through his brown curls. "It's your Celestine, isn't it?"

"She's not my Celestine," I grit out.

I realize my mistake a moment too late. Tanner's eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline. "She is, Rai. You just mated her. She's your Luna now, like it or not."

"She's not mine. She's her own person."

"Wow. So you're progressive now, are you? I never pinned you as the type. Finally put all your days of womanizing and pleasure-seeking behind you?"

"Enough, Tanner."

"I'm just bantering. Anyways, Rai, you know what I mean. She's technically yours now, and I'm sure she wouldn't be pleased to hear that you're disowning her already."

"Oh, on the contrary, I'm sure she would be very pleased."

Tanner scowls, but I turn away before he can glean any more information from my face. Eager for a distraction, I palm the tumbler on my desk and chug it down, relishing the burn of the alcohol. When I slam it down, Tanner is still staring at me, his onyx eyes trying to decode.

"What?" I bite off.

"You're acting really weird."

"I'm just flustered." A lie. I'm never flustered. "I only just took my father's title two weeks ago. It takes time to adjust to the role."

Another lie. This whole Alpha thing is a fucking walk in the park. I don't know why everyone bitches and moans about how hard it is; control your pack, complete your paperwork, and ensure your allies are happy. Simple.

"Hm."

I know he doesn't believe me, but I'm not going to waste my breath trying to convince him of my shitty excuses. I'll leave him to guess and speculate instead.

There's several minutes where no one says anything, and I find myself pouring over pack documents that have found their way onto my desk. Most of them cover banal shit that require my signature to proceed, such as livestock requests from wolves living in the more remote agricultural regions of the territory, or allied packs requesting additional resources. It's annoying and time-consuming, but relatively easy work.

As I'm thumbing through the papers, however, something catches my eye: 'Homicide notice: two Mistthorn wolves and one Stonebrook wolf found dead on the eastern Pinecrest border. Suspected Wilder attack. Further investigation is required.'

I scowl. The Wilders are a band of werewolves who exist outside of these lands, a group of savages who do not abide by the laws that we do. They have no pack structures, hierarchies, infrastructure, or systems of any kind. Instead, they give in entirely to their wolf sides, living not like wild animals, but rabid ones—raping, killing, and cannibalizing with abandon. Compared to the packs here, however, their numbers are small, so they rarely dare to attack.

This, however, is certainly suspicious, and the longer I stare at the report, the tighter my stomach feels.

"Do you intend to have her bear your children any time soon?" Tanner asks, quashing my thoughts relating to the Wilders. "You know, so we can ensure the succession of Ironpeak?"

"I'm not going to force her to have any children she doesn't want," I say, frustration turning my words sharp. "Nor will I force her to have sex with me."

"Well, I mean, that's great and all, but you do realize that this pack—and the other packs—will expect her to produce heirs now that you've claimed her as your Luna, right? It's not just her with an obligation—it's you as well. Both of you need heirs to show for this arrangement."

"Tell me something I don't know." I shake my head. "Whatever. I'm not going to force myself on her. End of story."

"Okay, well, are you going to seduce her at the very least, so that she will want to have children with you? You know, love her up and all that? Live your happily-ever-after or whatnot?"

I level him with a hard stare. As the silence draws on, I see the cogs turning behind those sharp black eyes. A crease deepens between his brows.

"Okay, so if you're not planning on seducing her so that she'll have sex with you, nor have children with her... Why did you agree to this arrangement in the first place?"

"To secure a peace agreement with Pinecrest. You know this, Tanner—everybody fucking does."

"No. That's bullshit." He stands abruptly, causing me to straighten. "The whole 'peace agreement' thing is a ruse, and I'm tired of pretending it's not. We have more military power than Pinecrest, and it's been two years since our last border skirmish with them. We don't need a peace agreement." At that, he advances upon the desk and clutches its overhanging lip. He looms threateningly over me as he says, "There's something bigger going on that you're not telling me. Go on, Raiden, what is it?"

I stare up at him, hardening my expression to stone. I have a lot of respect for Tanner, but he should know better than to try and intimidate me. Not only do I stand several inches taller than him, and have more power packed in my muscles, but I am his Alpha, and he is my Beta. Sometimes, he needs reminding of that.

"Sit down, Tanner," I growl in my Tone. "And behave yourself."

Instantly, his expression morphs from accusing to bashful, and his legs work of their own volition as they walk him back to the couch. Even if he wanted to remain there, he wouldn't be able to resist my Alpha Tone—none of the Ironpeak wolves can.

He mumbles an apology. I pretend not to hear it.

We sit in silence for a full minute. Truth is, Tanner is right—to an extent, the whole 'peace agreement' thing is just a ruse, because the real reason I insisted on taking Porscha as my Luna is much darker than that.

But Tanner can't know. Nobody can, because if the truth got out, it would result in chaos. An inter-pack war the likes of which we have never seen would result, and so I must stay quiet.

"It's because of Ambrose, isn't it?"

I blink up at him, my heart dropping at the mention of that name. "What?"

"Ambrose. This is all an elaborate plot to find her killer, isn't it?"

"And how did you reach that conclusion?" I say, my voice dripping with scorn.

"How could I not?" he shoots back. "You have been obsessed with finding her killer ever since she died. Look, I'm only saying this because I love you as a brother, but you've got to let go of this thirst for revenge, man—it's been years. This obsession of yours is getting out of hand, and someday, it's going to destroy your life." He takes a moment to regain his composure. "I don't know how the Celestine factors into this plan of yours, but don't do it to her, man. She seems like a nice girl. What happened was a tragedy, but don't drag more people into the rabbit hole. It's not fair."

I stare at him, and for many moments, I am too enraged to say anything. Ambrose was my youngest sister, the only blood sibling of mine who I actually loved. She died six years ago, at the age of fifteen. No, wrong, she didn't die—she was murdered, mangled beyond recognition by a man she trusted, a man I never learned the identity of. A man I became obsessed with finding.

The pain never got any lighter. Instead, my wounds festered, and it became clear that the only way I was going to heal was if I avenged my sister. Only when I found her ex-lover and made him suffer as she did, would the universe's balance be restored. Only then would the storm raging within me finally settle, and I would be able to breathe again.

I force myself to take deep breaths, needing to control the black rage boiling up in my chest. Although I am bursting at the seams with bitterness and hatred, Tanner doesn't deserve my wrath. It's reserved for the psychopathic fucker I'm going to kill.

It takes me several seconds to formulate a response. "I promise you, Tanner, this arrangement has nothing to do with Ambrose or her killer. Nothing."

Tanner assesses me for several long moments. He must see the conviction in my gaze, because he bows his head in acknowledgement, and doesn't press the matter further.

In the silence, he continues to sip on his alcohol. When it's done, he sets down his glass and makes to leave.

"She started crying last night," I blurt. Tanner stops at the door, turning to face me. "After I mated her, she started full-fledged sobbing. I had to get up and leave. She doesn't want this, Tanner. She doesn't want me. That's why I'm not going to bother courting her."

I look up at him. His face is totally void of sympathy—or emotion, for that matter.

"You made your bed, Raiden," he says, enunciating every word. "Lie in it."