Alpha’s Reluctant Luna

Maeve’s POV

The resounding clash of raised voices thundered through the ornately carved oak doors of the throne room. My legs, driven by curiosity, moved faster than my hesitant mind could follow. I crept along the cold stone corridor in my simple woolen dress, tiptoeing like a thief in the night, until I reached the massive door.

There, I pressed my ear against the cool wood—and that’s when it hit me: the most intoxicating scent I had ever encountered. It slammed into my nostrils so violently that my breath caught and my thoughts spun. Rich, heady, utterly captivating.

What was that?

Ignoring the frantic pounding in my chest, I inched closer. The aroma grew stronger with each step, pulling me toward the gap beneath the door. I swear I never meant to barge in on my father’s meeting with the most ruthless alpha in all the North, but before I could stop myself, the door swung inward at my touch.

Inside, the scent overwhelmed me even more. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes fell on its source—and I gasped.

No. No.

Those three letters tumbled from my lips before I could swallow them back.

“Mate?” I whispered.

A cruel smile flickered across his features as he took slow, deliberate steps toward me, scorn gleaming in his deep amber eyes.

“Is this some cruel joke from the Moon Goddess?” he scoffed, voice icy.

I sank back before I could steady myself, my spine pressed against the doorframe. My whole world seemed to unravel at that word.

My mate.

My heart hammered in my chest, begging me to speak, to clarify, to deny—but all I could do was stare.

His cold gaze bored into me, and I heard the slightest shift behind him: my father, Alpha Lucius Verrin, standing indifferent yet strangely relieved. Relief, as if he’d just offloaded an unwanted burden. My own father’s face wore no warmth—only the icy detachment of a ruler who would sacrifice anything for power.

All eyes in the room turned to me, their expressions unreadable. I felt naked under their scrutiny, as worthless as I had for my entire life.

***

My legs wobbled until I found support against a white marble pillar. The tension in the throne room crackled like lightning. My head swam with shock and disbelief—my life had irrevocably changed the moment I uttered the word mate.

My father, Lucius, and the alpha across from him—Alpha Draven of the Winter Howl Pack, my mate—locked into a heated exchange. Warriors from both packs ringed the room, hands twitching near their blades, ready to unleash violence at a single spark. It was surreal: a heated debate about sending rogues to Winter Howl Pack had instantly shifted to this confrontation, between my father, ruler of the Silver Mist Pack, and—he dared not hide it—my destined mate.

The North Central territory knew of the bitter hatred between these packs. Both were the largest in all the North. My father, a tyrant Alpha, preyed on rivals, annihilating them and claiming their lands. Rumor had it Draven was no kinder. Yet here he stood, his presence dominating, ivory skin illuminated by torchlight, amber eyes fixed on me like a predator sizing up prey.

“As you wish, Alpha Lucius,” Draven said, voice deceptively calm. “I will take her away.” The words were measured, cold—an unspoken threat in every syllable.

My heart lurched. Draven’s promise to remove me from my father’s domain felt almost welcome—until I saw the dark amusement playing across Lucius’s features. He rose to his full height, casting one last disdainful glance at me, a smile curving his lips.

That smile—haunting and triumphant—ripped a scream from my soul even as he declared, “She is yours, after all. You may take her.”

His eyes flicked over me, as though I were no more than a prized catch, and never once did he treat me like his daughter.

For my entire life inside the packhouse walls, I had known only cruelty and coldness. My father’s tyranny left no room for compassion. The only stories that had kept me going were whispered tales from the servants about the mate bond’s undying love. I prayed for a mate at sixteen, then seventeen—only to have my hopes dashed each year. And now here I was, offered to the enemy I feared most.

My legs finally gave out. I collapsed against the pillar, trembling, my bonds with home severed in a single, devastating moment.

It felt like a nightmare spun by a vengeful universe—and I couldn’t wake up.

Draven stepped forward, eyes locked on me with unnatural calm. His presence filled the room, an unyielding force that turned my blood to ice. The cold mask he wore revealed nothing of his intentions.

“Tell her to be prepared. I’ll send someone to fetch her before dusk,” he said, amber gaze slanting over me like blades poised at my throat.

I nearly shivered out loud. Him speaking of me so matter-of-factly, ordering my removal. Yet my father cut in, eager to dispatch me, as though sending me away were a gift:

“That won’t be necessary. She can leave with you now.”

Servants scurried forward, bundling my few belongings into saddlebags. A horse was readied.

My father gave me a final shove toward the door. No farewell. No love. Only relief.

And so we departed the Silver Mist Pack’s territory in absolute silence. Draven rode at my side; on his left, his Delta; behind us, the rest of his warriors. I tried to speak—anything—but Draven responded only with a lethal glare. I fell silent, dread coiling in my gut like a living thing.

Hours passed as we rode past jagged mountains, into the capital region rumored to lie within Winter Howl territory. The biting wind sharpened with each mile. Eventually, we crested a hill to see it: the Winter Howl Pack lands, crowned by a grand castle I had only heard of in fearful whispers. Its high stone walls gleamed silver in the afternoon light—a fortress both beautiful and forbidding.

Riders from the castle’s guard approached as we drew near, bowing to Draven. They took our horses’ reins; servants carried my belongings inside. Tensely, I dismounted, feeling dozens of curious eyes on me. I could almost sense the questions painted across every face: Why had the alpha brought his enemy’s daughter here? Why this girl?

A poised woman of perhaps thirty emerged from the castle steps, flanked by two attendants. She dipped into a low curtsy before Draven. I caught the faintest flicker of surprise in her dark eyes as they flicked to me—but she dared not speak.

“Alpha,” she said, voice respectful yet tinged with curiosity.

“Elysia, please have a private chamber prepared for our guest.” She turned back to me.

“And you”—her tone sharpened—“you look at me when I speak.”

My eyes snapped to Draven’s, involuntarily. His amber stare was brutal, as though he claimed every beat of my heart.

Elysia came forward, plastering a polite smile on her lips. Calm. Controlled. I wondered what secrets lurked behind those poised features.

“Draven,” I ventured, my voice shaking as I spoke his name for the first time. He halted, pivoting toward me.

“From today onward,” he said, eyes hooded, “you address me as Alpha.” His tone was cold as a winter wind.

I drew in a breath, struggling to stay composed. “Why a private chamber?” I asked, voice steadier than I felt. “We are mates. We should share the same room.”

His eyes darkened to onyx. Then, in the faintest twist of his lips, I saw a cruel amusement. He stepped forward until his nose nearly brushed mine, and I felt his hot breath on my cheek, electric and terrifying. My pulse raced; legs felt ready to buckle beneath me.

“You mean absolutely nothing to me, Maeve Verrin,” he snapped, each word a dagger in my chest.

My world spun. If I meant nothing, why had he accepted me at all?

Before I could demand an answer, a voice drifted in from the courtyard.

“Draven.” It belonged to a woman of my age, tall and elegant, with jet-black hair that shone like night. She moved with quiet grace, yet her eyes bore a fierce, flickering fire that vanished nearly as soon as it appeared. Now she stood beside Draven, gaze fixed on me.

“Draven, who is she?” The familiarity in her tone twisted my stomach into knots.

Draven’s gaze slid from her to me. He wrapped his arm around her waist possessively. “A little problem I encountered at Silver Mist Pack,” he said, as if I were a trivial nuisance.

My throat clenched. A problem? Was that all I was to him?

“Oh, I see,” the woman said, voice silky yet laden with disdain. Her smile returned—sweet, mocking. She pressed against Draven’s side, brushing her lips to his cheek in a display of ownership so blatant it seared my heart.

Thea—his chosen mate.

My outrage flared. “So you’re saying this…this thing is your whore?” I spat, venom lacing my words.

Thea’s eyes widened in shock. Then tears welled, slipping silently down her cheeks.

Draven’s gaze locked onto me, amber eyes burning with fury. I froze under that glare, the full weight of my words crashing down on me.

“I clearly warned you to watch your words in my castle,” he hissed. “Thea is your superior—and my chosen mate. She is to be respected. Since you’ve shown yourself stubborn, you will be punished for this insolence.”

Confusion swirled through me. Punished? For speaking the truth as I saw it?

Without warning, pack warriors closed around me. Steel eyes and clenched jaws blocked every escape. One of them grabbed my arm.

“Take her to the dungeon,” Draven ordered, voice low and lethal.

My lungs seized. I had no idea what was happening—or how to stop it. As the soldiers jerked me from the courtyard, I realized this was only the beginning of my nightmare.