Dane's POV
The echo of her heartbeat hadn't left my head.
Even now, standing on the terrace of the northern wing, I could still hear it — soft, uneven, like a trembling drum beneath fragile ribs. It wasn't just a sound. It was a pull. A damn chain that wrapped itself around my chest and refused to let go.
I gritted my teeth, staring into the forest beyond the walls of Shadowfang Manor. The trees swayed under the pale morning light, their leaves whispering like ghosts.
My wolves patrolled somewhere out there, unaware that their Alpha stood here, haunted by a woman who should've been nothing more than a transaction.
But she wasn't.
Donna.
Even her name burned on my tongue like forbidden wine.
When I had seen her collapse at the auction — body limp, skin marred with bruises, spirit crushed — something primal in me had surged. I'd told myself I bid on her because it was mercy.
Because no woman deserved to be sold like that. But the moment I caught her scent, I knew mercy had nothing to do with it.
The bond had flared. Violent. Unforgiving.
And that terrified me more than any enemy ever had.
I ran a hand through my hair and turned as footsteps echoed softly behind me. My mother's scent — lilac and warmth — reached me before her voice did.
"She's awake," my mother said simply, stepping beside me.
"I know," I murmured. "I heard."
Her brows lifted faintly, that subtle reprimand mothers are born with. "You were listening again?" She asked.
"I had to make sure she was fine." My jaw tightened. "She fainted. The healers said her pulse was very unstable."
My mother sighed, turning to face the horizon with me. "She's being cared for. You don't need to hover over her like a wolf guarding prey."
"She's not prey," I said sharply, then exhaled. "I just… need to see her."
"Not yet." Her voice softened but remained firm. "She's confused, frightened. Let her breathe, Dane. You've brought her into a world she doesn't understand."
I frowned. "She'll have to understand it soon. She's—"
"Don't say it," she cut in gently, her gaze steady. "Not until you're certain of what she is."
I turned to her, the words biting my tongue. "You think I don't know the pull of a bond? The mark burns, Mother. It's real."
"Maybe," she said quietly. "Or maybe it's something else — something the Moon Goddess wants you to learn before you claim it. Look at her, Dane. Does she seem like a mate? A Luna?"
The question stung because part of me had wondered the same thing. Donna didn't carry herself like a Luna. Not yet. She carried pain like armor, her eyes shadowed, her spirit scarred.
But yet, beneath all that ruin, there was something raw, defiant — something that called to me in ways I didn't want to admit.
Mother's hand brushed my arm. "Give her time."
Time.
I almost laughed. Time was what I had used to bury every feeling, every ache the Moon Goddess had denied me for years.
I didn't want a mate. I had learned to live without one, to rule without one. To numb the emptiness.
And now she had the audacity to give me this?
A slave at that.
I moved to the stone table near the railing, poured myself a glass of hot wine from the jug the maids had left earlier, and took a long drink. The burn was sharp, grounding.
"She was being sold like an animal," I said, setting the cup down too hard. "Chained, bleeding, barely breathing. And when I touched her… it was like the world stopped. The bond stirred in me." I shook my head. "It's terrifying, Mother. I didn't ask for this."
Mother studied me with calm patience, the kind she reserved for my worst storms. "The Moon Goddess doesn't always give us what we ask for. Sometimes she gives us what we need."
"What I need is control," I muttered. "Not another wound disguised as a gift."
Mother's lips twitched. "You sound like your father."
I gave a rather small smile. "Then maybe I learned well."
She sighed and stepped closer, reaching up to touch my cheek. "You've carried your solitude for too long, Dane. It's made you strong, yes, but it's also made you afraid. This woman — this Donna — she's not a curse. Perhaps she's the one meant to remind you what being alive feels like."
I looked away. "You make it sound simple."
"It isn't. Bonds never are." Her voice softened. "That's why you must be careful. A bond is precious, but if broken carelessly… it can destroy more than love. It can destroy your spirit."
"I don't want to hurt her," I admitted quietly. "But I don't know how to be… whatever this requires me to be."
"Then don't try to be anything yet. Just listen. Watch. Let her see who you are without the title, without the Alpha mask."
Her words lingered. I wanted to believe I could do that — but I wasn't sure the man beneath the mask existed anymore.
Mother's hand dropped from my face, resting briefly on my shoulder. "Stop worrying for now. She's in good hands. Clara will care for her. You should eat, or at least rest."
"I'm not hungry."
She smiled knowingly. "Then stop drinking that firewine like it's water. You'll burn your throat before you can even say hello to her."
Despite myself, I almost laughed. "Maybe that's better. Saves me from saying something stupid."
Mother chuckled softly, a sound that made the world seem lighter for a moment. "Go easy on yourself, son. You've faced wars, betrayals, and beasts far worse than love. You'll survive this too."
"Love?" I scoffed. "This isn't love. It's—"
"—a beginning," she interrupted. "You'll see."
I didn't argue. There was no point. My mother always spoke like she'd already seen the ending of a story the rest of us were still blinded from.
She turned to leave, her robes whispering against the stone. But before stepping through the archway, she glanced back at me. "I'll let you know when she's ready to see you. Don't rush it, Dane."
I nodded silently.
When she was gone, the silence felt heavier.
I picked up the cup again, staring into the dark red liquid, the faint steam curling like smoke. My reflection wavered on its surface — hard eyes, scarred face, and the faintest trace of confusion I couldn't drink away.
I'd fought rogues, led armies, rebuilt an empire of wolves from ashes. Yet one broken woman in my bedchamber was enough to unravel me.
The thought made me angry — at her, at fate, at the damned Goddess who thought this was mercy.
I downed the rest of the wine in a single gulp and set the cup aside.
She was somewhere below me now, bathing, breathing, healing. I could feel the soft hum of our connection in the back of my mind — distant, hesitant, like a heartbeat reaching out across a void.
I closed my eyes. For one reckless second, I let myself feel it. The warmth. The ache. The terrifying familiarity of it all.
Mate.
The word echoed like thunder in my mind.
I opened my eyes again, letting the cold wind from the mountains slice through the heat that coiled in me.
No. Not yet.
Not until I understood what kind of curse this bond truly was.
Because if she was really mine — if the Moon G
oddess had truly bound me to the broken Luna of Ironclad — then every choice from here on would decide not just her fate… but mine.