I went to meet Michael knowing exactly what I was doing.
That was the lie I told myself on the drive there, that I understood the choice, the consequences, the man. The road was narrow and winding, swallowed by trees that leaned too close, branches clawing at the sky like they wanted to witness whatever decision I was about to seal. I kept my hands steady on the wheel. I did not turn the music on. I needed the quiet to remind myself that I was still in control.
Michael was waiting where he said he would be. Not pacing. Not watching the road. Just standing there as though he had always belonged to that exact patch of ground.
He looked different.
Not physically. He was the same man I had met in the hotel lobby weeks ago. Same broad shoulders. Same dark hair pulled back neatly. Same sharp, assessing eyes. But something about him was… composed in a way that felt deliberate. Controlled. Like he had locked something away and thrown the key somewhere far out of reach.
"You're sure," he said when I stepped out of the car.
It was not a question. This wasn't the man who hugged me in the hallway. I narrowed my eyes. His voice was... off. Too distant, like waves distorted. It made my heart hitch.
He looked me from my head to toe and said nothing. Said nothing about my dishelved appearance or the tear tracks on my cheeks or how hoarse my response was. He just waited.
"I am," I replied.
I did not hesitate. He studied my face anyway, gaze slow and searching, as though he expected the truth to contradict my words.
When it did not, he nodded once.
"Then we proceed."
No speech. No reassurance. No dramatic claim of fate or destiny. Just confirmation. It was oddly grounding.
The ceremony happened faster than I expected. Faster than I thought possible for something so final.
There were witnesses. Not friends. Not family. Just the Oracle of the goddess binding our fates. Was I not important enough to at least have one of his friends or family here? The thought made something nasty happen in my belly.
Everything seemed so right. Not right in the way everything should be, but like something bigger had interevened. Every movement carried meaning. Every word spoken was binding. The air itself felt heavy with expectation.
I stood across from Michael and realized how little space there was between us. Close enough to feel his warmth. Close enough to sense something pulling low in my chest, a strange tension that hummed beneath my skin like a restrained current.
When the blade came out, my breath caught.
It was ceremonial, but still my heart lurched. A clean slice across my palm. Blood welled quickly, bright and unmistakable. Michael did the same without flinching. When our hands clasped, the contact was immediate and shocking.
Heat surged through me. Not pain. Awareness.
Something shifted. Locked into place.
I felt the bond the way one feels pressure change before a storm. Present. Powerful. Inescapable. But there was something wrong with it. Something held back.
It did not rush over me the way stories claimed it would. It did not consume my thoughts or flood my senses with emotion. Instead, it settled. Tight. Contained. Like a door closed and barred from the other side.
Michael's face did not change.
He said the final words calmly, clearly, as though he were signing a treaty rather than binding his life to mine. When it was done, there was no kiss. No claim. No touch beyond what was required.
The Oracle nodded. Satisfied.
It was over. I sighed. I was a married woman. He turned to me once we were alone.
"We leave now," he said.
No explanation. No pause.
I should have asked questions. I should have demanded time. Instead, I found myself nodding, following him as though my body had already accepted the direction my mind was still struggling to catch up to.
The drive to his territory was long. Silent. Only Cassie's purring seemed to calm me. I was agitated. Where was the man that wrote a note for me. Was that man there? What was going on. I opened my mouth to speak, but found out I could not. It made me almost puke.
I was a married woman, now. Married to the most powerful Alpha in the country. I hiccuped, the vomit ready to spill.
I watched the landscape change as we crossed invisible boundaries. Forests grew denser. The air felt different. He kept both hands on the wheel, eyes forward, posture relaxed but alert. He did not glance at me once.
That should have bothered me more than it did.
The pack lands were vast. Ordered. Alive in a way that made my skin prickle. Wolves moved through the space with quiet confidence, acknowledging Michael with subtle gestures of respect. They looked at me with curiosity, calculation, and something deeper.
Expectation.
Michael introduced me simply. No flourish. No claim beyond the title.
"My mate."
The word landed heavily.
I felt the bond react to it, a faint tightening in my chest, but again, it stopped short of what it should have been. Restrained. Controlled. Like it was waiting for permission, it had not been given.
He showed me where I would stay. Where we would stay. The room was large, functional, and untouched by personal sentiment. It looked like a place meant for rest, not intimacy.
"I will give you time," he said. "You will be safe here."
I searched his face for something. Anything. The man from the hotel. The warmth. The intensity. Instead, I found only measured calm and respect that bordered on distance.
"Why?" I asked quietly.
He met my gaze then. Really looked at me.
His eyes flickered with an unknown emotion, but ended up saying, "Get some rest." He didn't even look back as he walked away.
I stood alone in a room that was meant to be mine and realized something cold and undeniable.
I had bound myself to a man I did not know at all.
And worse, I suspected he intended to keep it that way.