I sit, bored out of my mind. I try not to fiddle with my hands, so as not to bring any unwanted attention to myself on this day.

It would be foolish to do so.

Given who I am.

"Sit up straight or I will have you flogged!" My mistress warned me for the fifth time, her breath curling the back of my spine into place. I regretted sitting in front of her, clouded by her less than pleasant breath.

I do not dare correct her, though my nails pierce my palms out of embarrassment. It does not matter that I am exhausted, or angered at being treated terribly. It never has, and it never will.

Tonight, I must relinquish the last bit of dignity I have to survive this excruciating hour.

After all, I am a guest at one of the most important celebrations in all of Lycan customs.

The Mating Rights.

During the ritual, the Alpha will be bound by fate to the female Lycan best suited for him from within his Clan. Worshiped above all other customs, the rights will help the Alpha gain the full capacity of his strength, and spiritually provide the pack's protection.

The entire pack sat within the large cave beneath a cliff ledge awaiting this otherworldly event. Crystalline icicles threatened to prick scalps. Rows of furs lined the floors to accommodate all of the beings gathered. A large bonfire roared across the back of the cave, bright enough to illuminate every face.

Clan Sol sat in the far right corner. Clan Stellae were placed beside them. Clan Caelum gathered near the center.

Clan Umbra, the patron clan of the current Alpha, was the last of the four pack clans to enter and settle close to where I was seated.

I am underdressed, and I worry someone will take notice. My twig brown dress is plain compared to the ornate festive clothing of the other werewolves, adorned with lavish fur and leather made with my handiwork.

Saddened by the realization, I choose to focus on my companions rather than the other pack members. Sitting beside me are Sonya and Petir, the only two other Lycans who did not belong to a clan. We remain on the outskirts, unclaimed and kept in line by our Mistress. We all share the surname Lupine to indicate our lack of belonging.

Yet, I was unlike the other outcasts. I am the last of Clan Lunae, a group of Lycans that no longer exist.

I am better known as a fatal mistake, born into this world by an Alpha and a human.

The other Lycan never let me forget it either.

A voice called out to me, as if my thoughts were screamed aloud...

"Good evening, Fracti." Cyrus, from Clan Umbra with his shaved head and deep swirling tattoos laughs loudly. He is one of the many Lycans around my age who liked messing with the Outcasts. I just happen to be a lucky favorite.

It is a name I know well, as it was used more than my birth name. It meant broken, fractured. Offensive slang for a hybrid werewolf.

That much was apparent, as I only possess some of my features from my Clan. My hair is the same silver as the moon, long and wavy and contrasting sharply with my tanned complexion. It's all I could admire about myself.

I am too short and fleshy. My ruddy cheeks and lips the color of blood showed my constant shame. My rounded face, angled nose, and low cheekbones are all far away from Lycan traits. I feel like I lack the refined regality of my family.

My eyes speak of my human blood before I can deny it, given to me by my mother. They are black as night, and void of color in a sky of shining stars.

More obvious than my appearance, is my disgraceful inability to transition into my Lycan form at all.

A gift and a curse. I am a living, heinous symbol of what happens when one breaks the rules of our traditions.

I ignore their taunts by keeping my head down. Due to my lack of reaction, their entertainment usually doesn't last long. And any reaction I have would be met with swift punishment due to my lineage.

"The Inanis doesn't want to speak?" A Clan Umbra female shouts at me. Mena. She is second to Cyrus as the most terrible towards me.

Void. That is what she called me. It was another insult, for those who could not turn into their werewolf forms.

It is harder to cover the pain of that strike, but I manage to keep my head bent. I hear their scattered laughs at my surrender, and I feel nothing in my heart.

"Welcome and rejoice," A booming voice came from the cave opening. I lift my head, glad to find everyone's attention on a Lycan named Titus, one of the Alpha's lead men. His voice echoed around the cave, "Seren of Clan Umbra, and Alpha of Pack Rupes has arrived! Let us show our praise!"

The room erupted into an endless sea of howls and cheers. I place my hands flat on the floor beside me, feeling the rumble of stomping feet and fists flowing from the stone ground and into my body.

Though I am never permitted to participate or enjoy our festivities other than to be a witness, my body refuses to understand I am an outcast.

My heart pulses with the low thrumming of the group. Energy forms between bodies and beings unified in celebration. A deep, spiritual knowing that our Alpha, our pillar of power, was here.

Is it morbid to commemorate a person whose Clan ruined my own?

I do not let myself think more when he finally enters the path of the firelight at the mouth of the cave.

The room silences without him ever commanding to do so. Everyone watches as the most cherished of all Lycan takes the first step into the space.

My eyes widen without restraint, as I have never been witness to an alpha mating before.

Seren Umbra had been blessed as Alpha after his father's death only a year prior, at the age of twenty-five.

Despite the restrictions placed on me, the current Alpha had never been cruel to me in any way, nor combative despite his regency. It is the only thing that prevents me from feeling instantly nauseous in his presence.

The alpha prowls through the crowd, moving in beastly elegance even in his human form. He towers over the throng of bodies, near the cave ceiling and somehow avoids all spindling formations. Drawing closer and closer to my position with every step.

The firelight shone all of his glory.

Seren was bare-chested, with bronze skin slick and solid with muscle. Less bulky than the other wolves, as his frame was larger than most. His abdomen was divinely carved and etched, and the V of his navel was apparent, trailing to the thin scrap of cloth that covered his sensibilities. Still, his well-built thighs and calves showed unsurmountable strength and skill.

My mouth only stayed shut due to the impending smack on the back of the head I would receive if I gaped at him openly. He wore several chains of silver around his neck and torso, to symbolize that the Alpha could take on death and overcome it. The metal already burned red wounds into his otherwise flawless skin.

Then there was the matter of the Umbra male's face. While beauty softened others, it only further sharpened him into a weapon. It was a jagged charm, similar to the mountains they lived amongst. Cold and rigid in its refusal to wither.

He bore a crown of obsidian curls, framing a face one could write poems of war and tragedy about. His unmarred skin had been cleanly shaven for the ceremony, so I could see his structure. The man's jaw was angled and stark, framed with high and hollowed cheekbones.

His brows sat low and straight, his nose temptingly regal with a slight hill, with his lips sinfully plump and warring with the rest of his masculine features. His eyes were even more engaging framed by thick black lashes. Liquid and the taunting color of pure silver. A warning to those who dared to come near.

He had always been too perfect for comfort. Tonight, he had transcended into ethereal ruggedness.

It meant nothing to me, it was more of an observation than a desire. Even with his obvious allure, he was the last man I would ever want.

I was knocked out of my reverie when he walked right in front of me, so close that his skin touched the back of my hand.

I jerked back out of the pure heat of his skin. It felt like I plunged my hand into the bonfire. I saw his fists clench and his veins bulge on his hands and wrists, his back now facing me.

He did not do it on purpose, he never did. Nor did he apologize. The Alpha did not worry or care for the likes of me. Seren was older than me by only a few years, and he had been witness to the demonstration that my existence was a lack of threat.

The clans quieted as he stood directly in front of the fire, the moon meeting the harsh planes of his face. Drenched in moonlight and adoration. A female figure stood beside him, aching to speak.

"Seren Canis Umbra, you are of age to take fate into your hands." A Priestess from Clan Stellae stepped next to him but remained out of the path of moonlight. "A mate, with which you will gain power and stability for the entirety of the Pack for years to come." She opened her arms to the side, smiling brightly at the Alpha, "Are you ready to accept them?"

I busied myself trying to guess who the lucky mate was.

It could be Mena. She never shut up about the alpha, not long enough to do her duties on time. Or maybe Ursa. In the little amount of attention I paid the clans, it seemed like the man had taken a liking to the redhead.

No women here would truly mind and would likely be happy. Except me.

"Yes." His low tone mesmerized everyone.

I stupidly wondered what it was like to not only command respect but to deserve it.

"Say your vow." The Priestess offered respectfully, with a slight bow to her head.

The Alpha's voice rumbled proud and strong from his body, reaching every person in the room. Its velvet deepness reached the center of my chest, "From the sun and moon to the stars and sea, may I be bound by my life to my other self. Let the earth, and wind bind me with one virile, strong, and pure of heart. A Lycan of equal standing, and of to withstand forever."

A few moments of silence passed through the crowd. The alpha did not look abashed, even when whispers flitted across the crowd like butterflies.

My skin feels like a lightning storm is swirling above my head, sensitive and sparked with tingles up and down my limbs. My chest feels heavy, and a tickling sensation starts in my heart.

I touch the area, centered directly on my scar, rubbing to get it to go away. It only worsens, like there is a string attached to the skin and someone is pulling on it. I look around, wondering if anyone else feels the strangeness, and my head is swiftly met by my mistress's hand.

"Behave."

I can barely focus on what she says. My skin starts to sweat profusely as if I am sitting on top of the raging fire. I try to slow my lungs, and my heart as it pounds within me.

"Oh Lunae, goddess of the moon, please shed your light on the one that is chosen." The priestess calls out again, begging the heavens to intervene.

I lose track of what is going on around me, as all hell breaks loose.

My skin lit up, sea glass held to the sun, my body casting fractions of light around the room. The heat worsens, making me feel like I am going to pass out. I stare at my hands, hands that look like they have been bathed in moonlight.

I panic, thinking the cave crumbled, revealing our bodies to the night sky. I look up, and the ceiling remains dark and upright above me.

"Something is wrong." Blood rushed through my head, and my voice sounded a thousand miles away. "Someone help me."

"Girl, what have you done?" Mistress shook her head back and forth, her lips quivering. Wetness lined the wrinkled edges of her pink eyelids. "What is the meaning of this?" Her fear pumps more adrenaline through my body.

"What?" Screams, hundreds of screams. Lycan started to uproar and disperse, pointing at my body. My body only tightened with the uncomfortable sensation of being perceived.

"Seren Umbra, the goddess of the moon has shown us fate's desire." The Priestess paled, the next words coming out with pained hesitance. "Vyra Lupine is your eternal mate."

I am alive, but my heart refuses to beat.

My name.

Why did she say my name?

"No! No this cannot be. Someone used witchcraft." Growled a wolf from Clan Stellae, "Only Lycans from the same Clans can be fated mates. This is impossible!"

"The gods have cursed us! Repent!"

"She did this! It is a plot to bring back her Clan!"

The realization strikes me at the same time.

My manic laughter drowns out the rest of the clan's outcries and squabbling. My fingers twist their way into my hair, meeting my scalp and trying to wake me up from this nightmare.

They were all right. This could not be real. This was a sick joke committed by someone who hated my family, who hated me.

"The bitch Vyra is yours, Seren?" Someone from Clan Sol asked, his voice ringing out above all others with malignant amusement.

Seren had been silent this entire time, stoic as he listened to the will of the gods. He lifted his head slowly, and the room began to quiet as they awaited the Alpha's command.

There was a moment of shared emotion. Some of it was pure confusion from meeting his gaze for the first time. "We are doomed together," he seemed to say.

My heart pounded painfully in my chest, as the longer I stared at him the more I felt comfort, not disgust or hatred. No matter how badly I called upon it to loathe the Alpha whose family took everything from me. His eyes softened for a moment, those intense eyes almost pitying.

Then, his silver eyes flashed darker—a promise of murderous intent from the Alpha, my mate, given solely to me.

If it were anyone else...

I grab at my heart, over my scar, as I cannot bear the weight of my emotions. I try to hold back the tears, but they fall forth. Filled with venom and a wildness I have never once let myself sink into.

I am the Fated Mate to the son of the man who slaughtered my father and my entire Clan.

Before, I was invisible. Ignored, but overall peaceful in my nothingness.

Now, every eye unwilling to stare too long at the dishonored Alpha's half-breed daughter was trained onto me. My life became more dangerous than it had been, only seconds ago.

Worst of all, under the unbreakable certainty of my death...

I begin to change.