Chapter 5 Too Much Like A Lone Wolf
Lyra's POV
I stood before the mirror in the guest suite of Blackthorne estate, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me. The silver-blue ceremonial dress fit perfectly on my frame. My dark hair was arranged in the formal style of mated females in the Silver Moon pack, braided at the temples and flowing loose down my back.
I smoothed my hands over the fabric, breathing deeply to calm my racing heart. Twelve hours ago, Dorian had been ready to perform the Reject ritual on our mating bond. Now I was expected to play the perfect mate at his family's gathering.
This is the last time, I reminded myself. After tonight, he can proceed with the Reject ritual and we'll be free of each other.
My wolf whimpered, but I silenced her. I couldn't afford sentimentality tonight.
The grand hall buzzed with conversation as I entered. I spotted Dorian immediately, standing tall among elder pack members, his silver-white hair and commanding presence impossible to miss.
Owen Blackthorne moved toward me with the fluid grace all Alphas possessed. His smile was warm as he reached for my hand.
"Lyra, my dear," he said, kissing my knuckles. "You look beautiful tonight. The traditional attire suits you."
"Thank you," I replied.
Owen's amber eyes studied my face. "The alpha succession ceremony will be upon us soon. Your medical achievements will be recognized before my son's official Alpha transition. We're all very proud."
He genuinely means it, my wolf noted. They actually value us.
Clara appeared beside her husband in deep burgundy attire that complemented her silver hair. Her eyes searched mine.
"Lyra, are you feeling well? You seem... There's sadness in your eyes."
My heart stuttered. Was I that transparent? Before I could answer, a strong arm slid around my waist.
"There you are," Dorian said. "I've been looking for you."
The contact made me stiffen. Through my dress, his touch burned like ice.
"Your mate looks stunning tonight," Owen remarked.
"Always," Dorian replied smoothly, his thumb tracing circles on my hip.The gesture might appear affectionate but felt like a warning.
Caleb approached with a glass in hand, his smile a welcome relief from the pretense.
"The star medical student and my cousin's beautiful mate," he greeted me warmly. "How's the arranged bond treating you? The trial period is almost over, right? Bet you'll both be celebrating freedom soon."
The atmosphere chilled. Owen's smile faltered, and Clara's eyes widened.
"Caleb," Clara hissed, "You speak of matters you don't understand."
"What?" Caleb shrugged. "It was just a joke. Everyone knows these arranged bonds usually transition to full mating or... they don't."
"Reject an arranged bond with the Blackthorne Alpha?" Clara said. "That would bring severe consequences. No Alpha performs the Reject ritual without affecting their pack standing."
I felt the blood drain from my face. I'd always thought that in this contractual marriage, I had the freedom to leave at any time. But it turned out that Dorian's parents had never intended to let me go from the very beginning.
"Don't worry, Mother," Dorian said, his eyes on mine. "Lyra understands her obligations perfectly."
Owen raised his glass, "To family, tradition, and the bonds that unite us!"
"Cheers!" echoed through the hall. Dorian offered me a glass of deep red wine.
"Let's toast to our future."
I stared at the wine, my hand moving to my stomach. Even though the pregnancy had been declared false, the protective instincts remained.
"I... I can't," I said quietly.
"What?" Dorian's voice carried warning.
"I don't want to drink tonight," I said firmly.
Owen raised his eyebrows. "Not feeling well, dear?"
"She's fine," Dorian answered. "Aren't you, Lyra?"
I looked at the expectant faces waiting for me to join their toast.
"I'm sorry," I said, setting the glass down. "I just... I can't celebrate tonight."
Whispers started among the pack members.
"Lyra," Dorian's voice was deadly quiet.
"Perhaps she needs some air," Clara suggested.
"Yes," Dorian said. "Excuse us."
Without waiting for a response, he guided me away from the gathering, his hand firmly at the small of my back. We moved through the crowded hall, past curious eyes and hushed whispers, and out through the terrace doors.
Once we were beyond earshot of the gathering, Dorian's pleasant façade vanished. He spun me around, pushing me against the smooth bark of a silver pine.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Lyra," he growled, his voice low and slurred slightly from the wine. "Refusing to toast? In front of my entire family? Do you have any idea how that looked?"
"What did you expect?" I hissed back. "You're planning to Reject me. Why should I celebrate that?"
"Because until that happens, you're still my mate!" he snapped, leaning closer. "My family adores you, especially my mother. Your little display in there just humiliated them all."
"I couldn't pretend," I whispered, my voice breaking slightly. "Not tonight. Not knowing what's coming."
Dorian asked, "Do you understand what Clara meant by those words?"
I replied. "Pack politics are complicated. An Alpha performing the Reject ritual is... politically costly."
"So I'm trapped with you?" Dorian said. "And you're the one who tried to trap me with lies!!"
I didn't. I said in mind.
The silence stretched between us, filled only by the soft luminescence of the silver pines and the distant sound of laughter from the manor. Dorian was closer now, close enough that I could see the way his pupils had dilated slightly from the alcohol.
His hand came up to trace the line of my jaw, his touch gentle despite the accusations between us.
His head began to lower, and I found myself rising on my toes to meet him halfway.
But just as our lips almost touched, Dorian suddenly pulled back, his expression shifting to one of disgust.
"Fix yourself," he said coldly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You smell too much like a lone wolf."
The warmth that had pooled in my belly turned to ice.
"What do you mean?" I whispered.
Dorian didn’t answer, but we both knew the truth. I bore his scent after being Marked by him—he just wanted to humiliate me for ever being a lone wolf.
Dorian adjusted his suit jacket, smoothing a hand through his silver-white hair.
"Five minutes. Then get back to the party. Try not to look like you're in pain. Next time my family raises a toast, you drink. I don’t care what kind of game you think you’re playing."
He walked away without a backward glance, leaving me leaning against the silver pine.