The Sun Marked Luna

The silver chalice shattered against the stone floor, splashing dark elderberry wine over the hem of my threadbare dress.

"Useless wolfless pest," Lady Caelia hissed, her hand still raised from the strike. "Look at you. You're ruining the decorations."

I kept my chin down, pulling a damp rag from my apron pocket. "I'm sorry, Lady Caelia. I'll clean it immediately."

"You'd better," she sneered, her heels clicking away toward the high table where the elders sat. "The Awakening Ball starts in ten minutes. If Alpha Vance catches sight of an unranked servant dragging down the pack's image, he'll have you thrown to the perimeter guards for target practice."

I didn't answer. I knelt on the cold granite, soaking up the spilled wine.

Eighteen years old today. For normal pack members, the eighteenth birthday was the night your wolf awakened, the night the Moon Goddess revealed your destined mate. But I had no wolf. My inner beast had been silent my entire life, leaving me rankless-an outcast in the Silver Shadow Pack, surviving only on the table scraps of the wolves who despised me.

The heavy oak doors of the Great Hall suddenly slammed shut with a boom that rattled the stained-glass windows.

The chatter died instantly. A suffocating pressure washed over the room-an aura so dense, so heavy, it felt like the air itself had turned to lead.

"He's here," someone whispered in terror.

Alpha Malakar of the Bloodfang Pack.

He didn't walk into the hall; he commanded it. Standing well over six feet, wrapped in heavy leather and dark armor, he looked like a god of war carved from obsidian. Battle scars slashed across his sharp jaw, and his eyes-a glowing, dangerous amber-scanned the room with absolute disdain. Behind him stood six of his deadliest Enforcers, their hands resting on the pommels of their blades.

The Silver Shadow Pack bowed immediately. Even our ruthless leader, Alpha Vance, stiffened, stepping down from his dais to greet the warrior who had single-handedly annihilated three rogue packs in a single winter.

"Alpha Malakar," Vance said, forcing a tight smile. "We are honored by your presence."

Malakar didn't answer. He didn't even look at Vance.

His head snapped toward the corner of the room. Toward the overturned bucket. Toward the rag in my hands.

His amber eyes locked straight onto mine, and the air ripped out of my lungs.

A sudden, violent spark flared deep within my chest-a sensation so sharp and golden it felt like a flame consuming my blood. The scent of ozone, rain, and fresh pine hit my nose so intensely my knees buckled.

*Mate.*

The word echoed in my mind, even without a wolf to speak it.

The entire hall remained dead silent as Alpha Malakar ignored Alpha Vance, stepped past the line of high-ranking alpha daughters who had spent weeks preparing for his arrival, and walked directly toward me.

Each heavy bootstep rang out like a drumbeat. I scrambled backward until my spine hit the cold stone pillar behind me.

He stopped right in front of me. The terrifying Alpha of Bloodfang crouched down to my level, his amber eyes softening just a fraction, filled with a raw, ravenous possessiveness.

He reached out a gloved hand, gently cupping my chin, and growled a single word that shattered the silence of the hall:

"Mine."

"She is a wolfless servant!" Alpha Vance's voice thundered across the room, his blade clearing its sheath with a sharp metal scrape. "She belongs to Silver Shadow! You will not lay a hand on her!"

Alpha Malakar didn't even turn around. He rose slowly to his full, towering height, keeping himself positioned like a shield directly between Vance's blade and me.

"Draw that sword one inch higher, Vance," Malakar said, his low voice vibrating right through the stone floor, "and I tear your pack apart before the moon reaches the crest.''