The wind was cruel that morning.
It sliced across the courtyard like it had been sharpened on steel, tugging at Natalie's cloak and filling her lungs with cold that bit deeper than she expected. The Moonblood Pack's denhouse loomed behind her, its stone walls familiar yet suddenly foreign, as though they were already part of a life she'd been cut away from.
Two armored riders waited beside the gate ,broad-shouldered, clad in dark leather reinforced with steel, the sigil of a black wolf's head stitched into their cloaks. Their horses stamped impatiently, breath misting in the frigid dawn.
"You ride with them until the border," her mother's voice echoed in her mind, steady and cold from the night before. No questions, Natalie. This is the only way to keep the peace.
Her fingers curled into the rough fabric of her gloves. She didn't trust her voice, so she only nodded at the riders. One gave a short, assessing glance ; not unkind, but with the dispassionate air of someone evaluating cargo.
The gates groaned open. She stepped through.
---
The land changed quickly.
The rolling pines and frozen streams of Moonblood territory gave way to steeper slopes and bare, jagged rock. Snow clung to the earth in stubborn patches, turning the road into a treacherous ribbon. The air tasted different here ; sharper, tinged with something metallic.
She caught the riders' hushed conversation more than once.
"They say the northern Alpha can strip a man's will just by looking at him."
"He doesn't have to look. The curse does half the work."
Natalie stared at the back of the lead rider's head, pretending she hadn't heard. Curses are for children's stories, she told herself, but even she didn't believe it.
Hours blurred. Her thighs ached from the saddle. Her thoughts drifted to the stories she'd overheard growing up , tales of Alpha Damien, who took what he wanted and left nothing but silence in his wake. No one had ever called him merciful.
---
By the time the sun began to sink, the stronghold appeared.
It rose from the mountain like it had been carved from its bones ; black stone walls, high watchtowers, banners snapping in the wind. The gates were wrought iron, shaped into curling wolves' teeth. Guards lined the walls, their eyes following her every move as they passed through.
The courtyard was vast, paved with uneven slabs. Soldiers trained in tight formations, their breath clouding in the cold. Every sound ; the clash of blades, the barked commands , seemed to fall into a rhythm that belonged entirely to this place.
One of the riders dismounted and motioned for her to follow.
"He's waiting."
---
Damien
From the high balcony, Damien watched her approach.
The girl was smaller than he'd expected, shoulders stiff beneath the dark cloak, eyes darting as if measuring the weight of every stone in his courtyard. His wolves flanked her like shadows.
So this was the offering.
The daughter of Moonblood.
The one Selene swore would keep the treaty sealed.
His jaw tightened. He didn't like being sent gifts, even when they came wrapped in politics.
"Bring her to the hall," he said. His voice carried easily in the cold air, making the guards below straighten instinctively.
---
Natalie
The great hall was warm , not welcoming, but warm.
A fire roared in a hearth large enough to stand in. Wolf pelts hung from the walls, their glassy eyes reflecting the flames. At the far end, a set of stone steps led to a high-backed chair draped in black fur.
He was there.
Damien.
The Alpha of the North sat with one elbow on the armrest, his chin resting lightly on his fist. He wore no crown, no ornament, yet the weight of him filled the room. His hair was dark, falling just past his jaw, and his eyes… his eyes were the color of ice pulled from deep beneath a glacier.
They locked on her the moment she entered.
She stopped breathing.
---
"You're late," he said.
The words were mild, but the way he said them , measured, certain ,made it sound like a warning.
"I....." She caught herself, forcing her voice to steady. "The road was....."
"I don't care about the road."
He rose to his feet in one smooth motion. Even from across the hall, she felt his height, the sharp presence that made the air seem thinner.
When he reached her, he didn't touch her. He simply stood close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, could see the faint scar cutting across his jaw.
"You're smaller than I expected," he said at last. His gaze dropped briefly to her hands. "But I suppose that makes it easier for you to disappear if you choose."
Her mouth went dry. "I didn't come here to disappear."
A corner of his mouth curved ,not a smile, but something sharper. "We'll see."
---
Damien
Up close, he could hear the way her heartbeat quickened, smell the faint scent of cedar smoke clinging to her.
She was afraid ,but she was also holding her ground.
Interesting.
---
The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring. Finally, Damien stepped back, his voice cutting through the air.
"You'll be shown your quarters. You'll speak to no one unless I allow it. And you'll stay out of the east wing."
Natalie's brow furrowed. "Why?"
His eyes hardened. "Because I said so."
---
As she was led away, Natalie could feel his gaze on her back , not like the gaze of a predator about to strike, but like that of someone deciding whether she was worth the effort at all.
She wasn't sure which was worse.