Chapter 2

Seraphina's POV

Silver moonlight streamed through the cave entrance, spilling into the central den and tracing patterns of light and shadow. Deep within the cave, crystals embedded in the ceiling refracted the moonlight into dreamlike patterns, illuminating my meticulously maintained home—the heart of Blackmane Pack territory, immaculate as always.

I sat alone on a low stone bench, wrapped in a hand-woven blanket, cradling a steaming cup of chamomile and valerian root tea. The earthy scent of herbs filled my nostrils but failed to calm the tumultuous thoughts after tonight's ceremony. The dancing moonlight reflections on the tea's surface reminded me of my silver-white fur—prized by the pack, yet also a mark of my isolation.

Two years. For two years, I had been Lucian's mate in name only, enduring the pack's whispers and sidelong glances, watching as he maintained his distance. Tonight, under the sacred moonlight, he had danced with Mira, the scene twisting into an unspeakable pain in my heart.

The stone door swung open, Lucian's powerful frame blocking all light from the entrance. His scent entered before him—the crisp smell of pine, smoke from the ceremonial fire, and another fragrance. Mira's scent. I tensed involuntarily, yet stubbornly kept my eyes fixed on my tea, forcing my breathing to remain steady.

He paused at the doorway, clearly surprised to find me still awake. "Still up so late?" his deep voice echoed in the silent space, seeming to vibrate the very air.

I nodded slightly, my voice barely audible: "Couldn't sleep."

He strode into the room, his gaze intense as he stared at me, the intensity almost making my skin prickle. "Were you waiting for me to return?"

I gathered my teacup and herbs, preparing to retreat to my sleeping area. "No. Just having trouble sleeping."

He casually shifted his body to block my path, his tone mocking: "I'm surprised. Most female wolves would be furious if their mate danced with another at a ceremony. Yet here you are, calm as still water, showing no reaction to your mate carrying another female's scent."

I met his eyes directly. "Perhaps you should wash before entering our shared territory. Keeping our territory scent pure is the most basic respect."

Dangerous light flickered in his amber eyes. Before I could step back, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist with enough force to make me wince. In one fluid motion, he pushed me against the cold stone wall, his body close enough that the heat radiating from him nearly scorched my skin.

"Look at me," he growled, his other hand roughly tilting my chin upward.

For the first time in months, I was close enough to truly see him, feeling the full force of his Alpha presence washing over me like a tidal wave. My wolf instincts screamed to submit, to lower my head and expose my vulnerable throat, but I forcibly suppressed the urge, compelling myself to remain perfectly still.

"Seraphina," his voice dropped to a bone-chilling growl that seemed to vibrate through my marrow, "do you know how much your scent disgusts me?"

The words hit like a physical blow, shattering my defenses. I should have known, shouldn't I? Two years of separate sleeping areas, two years of deliberately maintained distance—everything had been painfully obvious. But hearing such a naked accusation tore through the gossamer-thin protective shell around my heart.

"If I disgust you so much, why maintain this charade? Either we stay together or we sever the mate bond. Make a choice."

His laughter was cold as mountain ice, completely devoid of warmth. "And waste a perfect investment? Someone with rare silver fur, purchased with an entire season's best hunt? You look decorative in my territory, consume almost none of my resources, and maintain our dwelling. Why would I terminate such a convenient arrangement?"

"Why?" I demanded, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Why choose me at all? Why court me for an entire month, only to turn cold as ice the moment our bonding ceremony was complete?"

The question seemed to touch something deep within him. For a moment, I saw uncertainty flash beneath his hardened mask.

Memories flooded back like a tide. I remembered our first meeting—at my Moon Initiation Ceremony. When our eyes met across the sacred circle, there was an indescribable pull, powerful enough to take my breath away. The elders immediately recognized us as destined mates—that rare connection considered sacred.

My failing small pack saw this as divine salvation. A connection to the powerful Blackmane Pack meant resources, protection, and status. They eagerly pushed me to accept this bond, craving the alliance it would bring, longing for the pure-blooded offspring I might bear.

Initially, I resisted, hating that my fate seemed predetermined, made into a tool for bloodline continuation. But Lucian surprised me unexpectedly. For that month, he was gentle and attentive, marking territories to drive away other suitors, respecting my duties as a healer, even bringing rare herbs from the northern mountains for me.

After just four weeks, I accepted his bonding request, convinced I had found my true mate.

The change came suddenly and violently. The very night of our bonding ceremony, he created separate resting areas in our shared cave. He avoided all physical contact, remaining silent for days. I forced myself to accept this cruel reality, pouring all my energy into my healing work, lying to myself that many werewolf mates also lived in such distant, formal relationships.

But tonight—watching him dance with Mira, feeling the judgmental gaze of the entire pack—that carefully maintained illusion completely collapsed.

"I purely despise that you always act like nothing matters," he snarled, "emitting that bland, tasteless scent every day, like spring water without any character, boring to the extreme."

Tears gathered in my eyes beyond my control, veiling the world in a silver mist. For the first time since our bonding, I released my anger without reservation: "Then why choose me as your mate? Were you acting against your instincts?"

The corner of his mouth curled into a cold smile: "Yes, against instinct."

This simple confirmation was like an ice blade, piercing directly into my heart. I wrenched free from his grip, escaping from under his arm.

"Don't worry," I said, "I won't let my disgusting presence disturb you more than necessary."

I retreated to my sleeping area, that corner separated by a woven reed curtain. Once alone, I slid down against the cold stone wall, letting tears fall silently. The pain in my chest nearly made it impossible to breathe, so real and sharp it felt almost tangible.

Outside, the moon began its slow descent to the west, taking with it my last shred of illusion about this pack, about this life I had been forced to accept. Only when the silver light finally dissipated did extreme exhaustion finally overcome the pain, dragging me into fitful, shallow sleep as the first light of dawn appeared.