Chapter 7 Not in My Wildest Dreams

Meira’s POV

I considered myself lucky. They hadn’t asked for my name, hadn’t paused to pry into who I really was. They had simply hurled me through the gate like the filth they always insisted I was. I silently thanked the Moon Goddess because they hadn’t recognized me. If they had known, I wouldn’t be sitting here now in the grand living room, pressing a steaming towel to Lord Whitmore’s fevered skin.

And yet, no matter how much I tried, my mind kept drifting back to Mr. Sherlock. The sound of him. The warmth of him. And most of all, the voice that had whispered "mate" inside my head. Over and over. Haunting.

I told myself it couldn’t be real. It had to be impossible. That was what they’d drilled into me since childhood: cursed girls like me didn’t get mates. We weren’t chosen. We weren’t wanted. We didn’t belong in the world of ‘ordinary’ wolves.

But the thought clung to me stubbornly, refusing to fade.

Across the room, Claribel and Annabelle were busy chattering about the Alpha Prince, how handsome he was, how perfect he looked, and how every maiden swooned at the sight of him. Their excitement filled the whole room, a constant stream of giggles and competition as each tried to outshine the other.

I barely heard them. To me, he was just another distant, untouchable prince wrapped in stories meant for girls who weren’t cursed and invisible.

I glanced up briefly as they continued their dramatic retelling of how the prince’s cold blue eyes had apparently dismissed every maiden who dared look at him. The tales bounced back and forth between them, and yet none of it stirred anything in me. I hadn’t seen him, and from the rumors, I expected nothing more than a man who loved the attention of his pack and the fear he inspired.

Claribel and Annabelle kept arguing, their laughter rising and falling like two ill-tuned instruments. “He’ll choose me,” Annabelle declared proudly. “I just know it!”

“Oh please,” Claribel scoffed. “You can’t even walk without tripping. I’m clearly the better choice to be Luna.”

I stayed quiet. My hands kept moving automatically, pressing towels, wiping sweat, pretending their words weren’t floating around me like irritating flies.

Then Elizabeth appeared, gliding into the room like a storm cloud. She lowered her voice and bent toward her daughters.

“Remember,” she murmured, eyes glittering, “the Alpha Prince likes mystery. Appear angry… but controlled. I’ll prepare the ointments for your skin and hair. You must captivate him whether he wants it or not.”

Claribel clapped softly. “I can’t wait for the next ceremony, Mother! We exchanged a few words with him earlier… not pleasant ones, but still it counts.” She beamed proudly, as if she’d already won.

Their excitement washed over me, but my senses were drifting elsewhere, far from their shallow chatter. The scent and the memory of Mr. Sherlock lingered around me like an invisible thread. Strong, earthy, faintly smoky… undeniably him.

And every time I remembered it, my heart gave a small stutter. My pulse skipped. That scent clung to my mind more fiercely than any story about a prince ever could.

I wanted to see him again. Ached too. I wanted to find him in the shadows of the palace garden, to look into those sharp blue eyes again, and to feel that strange electricity running beneath my skin. But the universe had already labeled me a cursed hybrid, unwanted, unseen, an error waiting to be erased.

My gaze drifted to the window. Moonlight sliced across the floor like silver blades. I imagined the garden beyond, the darkness where he’d caught me, and the weight of his hands steadying me before I hit the ground. The memory twisted inside me, fear tangled with longing, and I couldn’t untangle which was stronger.

I couldn’t forget his smirk or the quiet confidence in the way he moved. He didn’t even need words; his presence alone commanded attention. There was a calm danger in him, something sharp and steady and impossible to ignore.

Despite everything I was taught about staying invisible… I wanted to see him again.

“What are you thinking about?” My aunt’s voice snapped, slicing straight through my thoughts. I jerked upright. Only then did I realize I had been smiling. Actually smiling.

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you want me to pour the hot water on you?!”

The anger twisting her face made my stomach churn. Her rage always burned hotter whenever I dared to look anything but miserable.

“No… please,” I whispered quickly, kneeling upright and wringing the towel in my hands. She had done it before and poured scalding water on me. She would do it again without hesitation.

“Maybe she’s daydreaming about the prince noticing her,” Claribel chimed in, laughter dripping from her voice.

“In her wildest dreams,” Aunt Elizabeth scoffed. Then her foot slammed into my stomach. Pain burst through me, and the sound of their giggles faded as I curled over, gasping.

It was maddening. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t hope. I was Meira Ashford, cursed, unchosen, unworthy of breathing the same air as normal wolves. And yet… that brief encounter in the garden had awakened something inside me. Something I had buried under years of fear, doubt, and silence.

The twins kept arguing, oblivious to the world. “I’ll be Luna!” Annabelle insisted. “The Alpha will see I’m perfect.”

“You?” Claribel snorted. “You can’t even charm a squirrel.”

I forced my focus back to Lord Whitmore, dabbing his forehead as though the world wasn’t shifting underneath me. Their plotting meant nothing. What mattered was out there in the garden, in the dark, where one stranger had whispered something impossible: mate.

Still, denial clung to me. It had to be impossible. That word, that connection, was too dangerous, too intoxicating to be real. I had been taught that cursed girls never belonged. Never found mates. Never mattered.

But Roxy, my wolf, had whispered it. Clear and undeniable.

I told myself I’d never see him again. The universe would never allow it. I was cursed. Hidden. Invisible.

It was maddening.

Terrifying.

And thrilling.

Another thought clung to my mind: What was really his position in the royal pack house?