The first rays of dawn filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the Blackwood master suite, painting the room in strokes of dusty gold. Ava woke not to the sound of birds, but to the rhythmic, thunderous beating of a heart that wasn't her own.
For a terrifying second, she forgot where she was. She tried to move, but a heavy, warm weight was pinned across her midsection. Her back was pressed against a chest that felt like heated marble. The scent of sandalwood and something sharp, like a forest after lightning, flooded her senses.
Silas.
She froze. The Alpha was still asleep, his breathing deep and steady against the nape of her neck. His arm was draped possessively over her, his large hand resting exactly where her secret lay hidden. It wasn't just a casual touch; even in sleep, his grip was firm, as if he were guarding a treasure—or a prisoner.
Ava held her breath, trying to slide out from under his arm without waking the beast. But as soon as she moved an inch, the arm tightened.
"Going somewhere, Luna?"
Silas's voice was a sleep-roughened growl, vibrating through her spine. He didn't open his eyes, but his grip shifted, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the silk of her slip.
"I... I needed to use the restroom," Ava stammered, her face flushing a deep crimson.
Silas finally opened his eyes. They weren't the cold grey of the night before, but a molten, smoky silver that seemed to look right through her soul. He didn't let go. Instead, he propped himself up on one elbow, hovering over her, his shadow engulfing her small frame.
"In this house, you don't move unless I say so," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. The morning air was chilly, but the heat radiating from him was intoxicating. "You were shivering in your sleep, Ava. You were calling for someone."
Ava's heart leaped into her throat. "I... I have nightmares."
"Was it Marcus?" Silas's voice turned lethal. "Was it the man whose cub you're carrying?"
"It doesn't matter," she snapped, her own pride flickering to life. "You said you'd protect me. You said you'd help me destroy him. Does it matter whose name I scream in the dark as long as I play my part during the day?"
Silas's eyes narrowed. In one swift movement, he flipped their positions, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. He wasn't hurting her, but the sheer display of dominance made her breath hitch.
"It matters to me," he hissed, leaning down until their noses touched. "Because I don't share. Not even a nightmare. If you're in my bed, your fears belong to me just as much as your body does."
He stared at her for a long, agonizing moment, his intensity so raw it felt like a physical weight. Then, just as abruptly, he released her and sat up, the muscles in his back rippling like a mountain lion's.
"Get dressed," he commanded, his voice back to its cold, business-like tone. "The Council has requested a 'Morning Pack Run.' They want to see the new Luna in action. They want to see if you can keep up with the Blackwood wolves."
Ava's blood ran cold. A pack run meant shifting. It meant running miles through rugged terrain at speeds no human could match.
"Silas... I can't," she whispered, sitting up and clutching the sheets to her chest. "I'm... I haven't shifted in months. Since the exile. And in my condition..."
Silas stopped at the door of his walk-in closet, looking back at her with a piercing gaze. "I know. Which is why you won't be running on four legs."
"Then how—"
"You'll ride with me," he said, a strange, dark glint in his eyes. "As my mate, it is your right to be carried by your Alpha if you are 'indisposed.' It will signal to the Council that I am completely infatuated with you. It will make them believe you are precious to me."
"And am I?" the words escaped her lips before she could stop them.
Silas paused, his hand on the doorframe. He didn't look back this time. "You are a Blackwood now, Ava. In this world, that is the only thing that matters."
The forest was alive with the sounds of snapping twigs and low, guttural growls. Dozens of wolves—grey, brown, and mottled—stood in the clearing, their eyes glowing with anticipation. At the front stood Marcus, his lip curled in a sneer, his eyes searching the manor's balcony.
When Silas emerged, the entire pack went silent. He wasn't in his wolf form yet, but his presence was enough to command the wind itself. Beside him stood Ava, dressed in a thick leather jacket and sturdy boots, her hair braided tightly.
"Where is the Luna's wolf?" Marcus called out, his voice echoing with mockery. "Is she too fragile for a morning run? Or perhaps she's hiding something beneath that heavy coat?"
Silas didn't answer with words. He stepped to the edge of the clearing and began to shift. It was a violent, beautiful transformation—the sound of bones cracking and reforming, dark fur erupting from his skin. In seconds, a massive, midnight-black wolf stood where the man had been. He was twice the size of any other wolf in the pack, his eyes a haunting, glowing silver.
The Black Wolf let out a roar that shook the very leaves from the trees. Then, he walked over to Ava and lowered his massive head.
Ava felt a surge of awe and terror. She climbed onto his broad back, burying her hands in his thick, obsidian fur. Silas let out a low huff—a warning for her to hold on tight.
"Run!" Silas's voice echoed in the minds of the pack through the mental link.
The hunt began.
They moved like a black blur through the ancient pines. The speed was terrifying. Ava pressed her face into Silas's neck, the scent of the forest and the raw power of the wolf beneath her making her head spin. She could feel every muscle in his body working, the sheer strength of an Alpha protecting his own.
In the distance, she saw Marcus's wolf—a sickly, reddish-brown creature—trying to pull alongside them. Marcus was watching her, his yellow eyes fixed on her stomach. He was waiting for a stumble. He was waiting for proof.
Suddenly, a fallen log appeared in their path—a massive, moss-covered oak. Any other wolf would have veered around it, but Silas didn't slow down. He gathered his strength and leaped.
For a moment, they were airborne. Ava felt the weightlessness in her stomach, a dizzying rush of adrenaline. In that moment of suspension, she looked down and saw Marcus snarling below. Silas landed with perfect grace on the other side, his claws digging deep into the earth.
As they slowed to a halt at the edge of the Silver-Lake, Silas shifted back, the steam rising from his skin in the chilly morning air. He didn't wait for Ava to climb down; he reached up and plucked her from his back, cradling her against his chest.
The pack gathered around, tongues lolling, their eyes filled with newfound respect. Even the elders seemed swayed by the display of dominance.
But Marcus, shifting back into his human form, stepped forward, his face twisted with rage. "A pretty trick, Silas. But protection won't hide the truth forever. The Moon Ceremony is in three days. The Moon Goddess herself will judge the Luna's purity. If she isn't your true mate, the silver fire will consume her."
Ava felt the color drain from her face. The Moon Ceremony. A ritual where the Luna must touch the Sacred Silver Stone. If the bond was a lie, or if she carried the blood of a traitor, the stone would react. It was a death sentence.
Silas's grip on her tightened. He looked Marcus dead in the eye, his voice cold as ice.
"Then I suggest you find a good seat, Marcus. Because you're about to watch my Luna become the most powerful woman in this territory. And if the 'silver fire' so much as singes a hair on her head, I'll burn your entire pack to ash as a sacrifice."
As Silas turned and carried her back toward the manor, Ava looked up at his sharp jawline. He was willing to challenge the Goddess herself for her. But was it because he cared, or because he simply refused to lose a piece of his property?
"Silas," she whispered. "The ceremony... I won't pass."
"You will," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Because I'm going to teach you how to lie to the gods, Ava. And you're going to be very, very good at it."