The roar of the pack was a physical thing, a wave of sound and primal energy that should have been intoxicating. For Lyra, it was a cage of noise, closing in. She stood beside Kael on the dais, her smile a practiced, porcelain mask. Inside, she was reeling. She had played her part perfectly, twisting her past as a spy into a pledge of loyalty, directing the pack's fury outward toward Silas. But Kael's whispered warning—It is my hand on the hilt—had been a bucket of ice water, dousing any fleeting sense of triumph.
As the formalities of the gathering dissolved into a loud, milling celebration, Kael was immediately surrounded by his inner circle—Jax, Valen, Finn—all speaking in low, urgent tones about the impending strike on the Crimson Paw. He had dismissed her with a glance, his attention now fully on the business of war.
Feeling suddenly invisible and adrift, Lyra descended from the dais, the weight of the collar feeling heavier than ever. She needed air, space, a moment to quiet the frantic beating of her heart. She moved toward a quieter corner of the hall, where a large, arched window offered a view of the moonlit forest beyond the compound walls.
She didn't get far.
"Quite the speech," a smooth, familiar voice said beside her.
Ronan. He leaned against the stone wall next to the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His hazel eyes, usually so calm, were shadowed with a complex emotion she couldn't name. "You handled them like a born politician. I was… impressed."
"Thank you," Lyra said, her voice quieter now, the performance over. She wrapped her arms around herself, the black silk suddenly feeling flimsy against the chill of his scrutiny. "It was that or be torn apart."
"He wouldn't have let that happen," Ronan said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. He took a slow sip of his drink. "But you didn't need him to save you. You saved yourself." He paused, his gaze dropping to the moonstone collar, and a flicker of pain crossed his features. "I just wish the cost hadn't been so high."
The unspoken words hung between them. The cost of being his.
Before Lyra could respond, a new presence intruded, sharp and floral. A she-wolf glided up to them, a vision of predatory grace. She was stunning, with waves of fiery red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and eyes the color of molten emerald. Her dress was a deep crimson that clung to every generous curve of her body, the neckline plunging to showcase a dramatic, ample bust. She was the living embodiment of everything Lyra, with her lean, practical strength, was not.
"Ronan, darling, hiding in the corner?" she purred, her voice like velvet wrapped around a blade. Her eyes, however, were fixed on Lyra, sweeping over her from head to toe with a dismissive, cat-like curiosity. "And you must be the new… acquisition. I'm Seraphina. Kael and I are… old friends."
The possessive emphasis on "old friends" was a declaration of war. Lyra recognized the type instantly. This was the pack's resident seductress, the one who had likely hoped to be Luna herself.
"Lyra," she replied, her tone neutral. She refused to be baited.
Seraphina's smile was all teeth. "Charmed. We were all so surprised when Kael brought you here. He usually prefers his companions to be a bit more… experienced." Her eyes flicked to Ronan, including him in her subtle jab. "But I suppose fate works in mysterious ways. Tell me, dear, how are you finding the Alpha's… attentions? I hear he can be quite… demanding."
The blatant innuendo made heat flood Lyra's cheeks, a mix of anger and humiliation. Images of the previous night flashed in her mind—Kael's demanding hands, his searing mouth, the overwhelming intensity of his possession. Seraphina was letting her know, in no uncertain terms, that she was intimately familiar with Kael's appetites.
Ronan shifted uncomfortably. "Seraphina, that's enough."
"Oh, don't be such a bore, Ronan," she chided, not taking her eyes off Lyra. "I'm just welcoming our new Luna to the fold. We're all one big, happy family, after all." She took a step closer, her scent of night-blooming jasmine and pure, unadulterated female wolf enveloping Lyra. "A word of advice, from one she-wolf to another. Kael's favor is a fickle thing. He enjoys the chase, the conquest. But his attention span…" She gave a delicate, dismissive shrug that made her breasts shift enticingly. "Let's just say he appreciates a woman who knows how to keep his interest. Something you might want to work on."
The insult was expertly delivered, designed to undermine Lyra's confidence and position. Before Lyra could form a cutting retort, a new voice, cold and absolute, cut through the tension.
"Is there a problem here?"
Kael stood a few feet away, his presence instantly sucking the air from the space. His stormy eyes moved from Seraphina's smug face to Lyra's flushed one, and finally to Ronan's tense posture. He had seen the entire exchange.
Seraphina's demeanor transformed instantly. The catty rival vanished, replaced by a picture of sultry deference. "Alpha! No problem at all. I was just ensuring our new Luna felt welcome." She placed a familiar, proprietary hand on his arm, her fingers stroking the black wool of his jacket. "We were just reminiscing about old times, weren't we, darling?"
Kael's gaze remained on Lyra, ignoring Seraphina's touch, though he didn't shake her off. "Lyra. Come here."
It was a command. A public reassertion of his claim. Lyra, her pride stinging from Seraphina's words, forced her feet to move, crossing the space to stand before him.
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. Then, his hand came up, but not to her face. His fingers brushed the side of her breast, a slow, deliberate caress through the thin silk of her top. It wasn't a loving gesture; it was a mark of possession, a blatant display for Seraphina and anyone else watching. Lyra's breath caught, a traitorous flush of heat following the path of his fingers.
"Seraphina," Kael said, his voice devoid of warmth, his eyes still locked on Lyra's. "The Luna does not require your… advice. Her place at my side is permanent. See that you remember yours."
The dismissal was brutal and public. Seraphina's beautiful face went pale with fury, her emerald eyes flashing. She removed her hand from his arm as if burned. "Of course, Alpha," she said, her voice tight. With one last, venomous glance at Lyra, she melted back into the crowd.
Kael's attention shifted to Ronan. "The security plans for the eastern quadrant need your final review. Now."
Ronan's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Alpha." He gave Lyra one last, lingering look—a look full of unspoken sympathy and a frustration that mirrored her own—before turning and walking away.
They were alone in the alcove, the noise of the party a dull roar behind them. Kael's hand moved from her breast to cup the back of her neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below the collar. His touch was no longer for show; it was intense, personal.
"Jealousy is a useless emotion," he murmured, his voice a low thrum that vibrated through her. "It implies doubt. Do you doubt that you are mine?"
Lyra looked up at him, the ghost of Seraphina's touch on his arm still vivid in her mind. "She seemed very… familiar with you."
A dark, possessive smile touched his lips. He liked her show of spirit, however small. "She was a distraction. A pleasant one, but temporary. You…" He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a whisper of a kiss, "are my mate. You are forever." His other hand slid down her back, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hard, unyielding strength of his body, the evidence of his arousal even through their clothes. "And I am not a man who shares what is mine."
He kissed her again, deeper this time, a claiming that was meant to wipe away the sting of Seraphina's words and the memory of Ronan's concerned eyes. It was a kiss of dominance, of reclamation. And to her horror, her body responded instantly, the fire he alone could ignite sparking back to life, melting her anger and fear into a pool of liquid need.
When he broke the kiss, they were both breathing heavily. The sounds of the gathering felt a million miles away.
"The party is over for you," he stated, his voice rough with a desire that was both thrilling and terrifying. He took her hand, his grip firm. "I have… demonstrated our unity to the pack. Now, it's time to remind you."
He didn't lead her back to the crowd. He led her toward a private corridor that she knew led back to their penthouse. His strides were long, purposeful. The look in his eyes promised a night where words would cease, and only the raw, physical language of possession would remain.
As he pulled her along, away from the prying eyes and the rival's taunts, Lyra knew one thing with chilling clarity.
The battle outside with the Crimson Paw was just beginning. But the war for her heart, her will, and her very soul, was being fought right here, in the gilded cage of Kael Draven's obsession.
And she was dangerously close to surrendering.