Chapter 3. The Unseen Brand

Selene couldn’t look away from the light beneath her skin.

It shimmered just above her heart, silver threaded in delicate spirals that seemed to breathe beneath the surface, as though moonlight had been sealed under glass. It wasn’t paint or scar tissue or ink. It felt older than all of those things—woven into her rather than placed upon her.

Something older.

Something awakened.

Something she had never agreed to.

Her fingers lifted before she fully realized what she was doing. The moment her skin brushed the glowing mark, pain flared—sharp and immediate, stealing the breath from her lungs. Heat raced outward from the point of contact, burning through her chest in a pulse that was not her own.

She gasped and jerked her hand back.

Alaric caught her wrist before she could try again, his grip firm and grounding.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “It burns more when you touch it.”

She flinched and stepped back. His hand fell away immediately, though something unreadable flickered across his face—not regret. Restraint.

“It’s permanent?” she said, the word settling even as she spoke it.

“Yes.”

The answer settled in her stomach with heavy finality, like a stone dropped into deep water.

Her back pressed against the trunk of a nearby tree. Rough bark bit through the thin fabric of her dress, anchoring her in the cold night.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen,” she said, her voice unsteady despite her effort to control it. “There’s meant to be a ceremony. A vow. Witnesses.”

“Witnesses,” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “Sanctioned by Elders who would have traded you to whichever pack offered the most?”

She looked away, the truth cutting too cleanly to deny.

Her father’s careful negotiations rose unbidden in her mind. Lucan’s calculated rejection. Every conversation framed as duty, alliance, necessity—never choice.

Still, the weight of it pressed down on her.

“This isn’t just a claim,” she said, her voice unsteady but certain. “Marks like this carry weight. They bind more than wolves. Packs, bloodlines, territory—they drag everything into them, whether either side is ready or not.”

Alaric stepped closer as she spoke, close enough that his presence wrapped around her like mist. His scent reached her then—warm spice, wild pine, and something darker beneath it, something that felt like a memory she hadn’t lived yet.

“I know exactly what it carries,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him then, really looked—at the restraint held so carefully in his posture, the tension drawn tight beneath his skin. This was not the expression of a wolf overtaken by instinct.

“And yet you still let it happen,” she said.

“I let it finish,” he replied, his voice low and deliberate. “Because your wolf reached for mine before either of us spoke. That kind of recognition doesn’t come from force.”

His gaze held hers, unwavering.

“You’re mine, Selene,” he said.

Her pulse stumbled.

“Not because I claimed you,” he continued more softly, “but because your wolf chose before your mind could refuse.”

The words settled into her slowly, heavy and intimate all at once. Not a threat. Not a promise dressed up as inevitability.

A truth spoken aloud.

“That doesn’t mean I wanted it,” she said.

“I know.” The softness in his voice surprised her. He wasn’t arguing with her. He wasn’t trying to convince her.

“I didn’t want it either,” he added after a moment. “Not like this.”

That unsettled her more than certainty would have.

“But I won’t pretend it isn’t real,” he continued. “I’ll protect it. Even if you run.”

She closed her eyes briefly, breathing through the lingering heat in her chest.

“I don’t even know you,” she said.

“You will,” he replied. “When the time comes, the bond will see to it.”

The wind shifted through the trees, cool and restless. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled—low, resonant.

Selene’s eyes snapped open. “The claiming rites are starting.”

Alaric inclined his head. “You should go back.”

Her chest tightened. “You’re not coming with me?”

“No.”

“They’ll feel it,” she said. “They’ll know something’s wrong.”

“They already do,” he replied. His expression sharpened—not with anger, but with resolve. “And when they act, it won’t be quietly. They’ll try to tear you from me. They’ll call the bond corrupted. Dangerous. They’ll threaten to destroy it.”

Her pulse quickened. “Can they?”

“Only if you let them,” he said evenly.

She studied him for a long moment, searching his face for something she couldn’t name. “Will I see you again?”

A faint softness touched his eyes.

“You’ll feel me,” he said. “Long before that.”

Then he was gone—silent as shadow, swallowed by the forest before she could draw another breath.

***

Her legs trembled as Selene made her way back toward the glow of lanterns in the distance.

Her hands still shook. Her mark still burned.

She didn’t stop.

The forest thinned, and sound rushed back in—a wave of drums, laughter, clinking glasses, and tension sharp enough to taste. She stepped through the final curtain of trees and into the ceremonial grounds.

Inside, the air was thick with music and anticipation. Couples gathered near the altars, ritual sashes draped over their shoulders. Some stood wide-eyed and hopeful. Others looked resigned, as though bracing for an ending they’d already accepted.

The Elders waited atop the dais, tall and unyielding, silver-threaded robes heavy with tradition.

As Selene entered, the atmosphere shifted.

Heads turned. Whispers ignited, hissing from one side of the hall to the other.

Lucan stood near the front, arms crossed tightly over his chest. When his gaze dropped to her collarbone, his expression drained of color. Then it flushed crimson.

Then it went unnervingly still.

The mark glowed faintly beneath the sheer fabric of her dress, silver spirals unmistakable.

She walked to her place, shoulders squared, chin lifted.

Her father appeared at her side, his voice sharp and furious. “What did you do?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

His gaze flicked to her collarbone, his expression tightening. “You vanished. With him. And now you come back marked.”

“I didn’t know who he was,” she said, though the explanation sounded thin even to her.

“That doesn’t matter,” he hissed. “You should have fought it.”

She swallowed. “I couldn’t.”

His mouth thinned, disappointment hardening into something colder. “Then you’ve ruined us.”

She said nothing.

Because maybe she had.

The hall fell into expectant silence as the lead Elder stepped forward, his voice ringing with power.

“Let the claiming rites begin.”

Cold spread through her veins.

Names were called. Pairs approached the altar. Oaths were spoken. Some cried. Some trembled. Some smiled as though the world had finally aligned.

Each pair faced the same question.

“Do you accept the bond?”

Two affirmations sealed it.

One refusal shattered it forever.

Selene’s name was coming. She felt it tightening around her throat like wire.

Then the Elder paused. His nostrils flared. “I smell—”

The words were torn away by a howl that split the night. Low. Wild. Commanding.

Every head turned.

From the edge of the trees, a massive silver wolf emerged, scarred and luminous beneath the moon. He moved with deliberate certainty, each step carrying the weight of inevitability.

Alaric.

No one stopped him. No one dared.

He crossed the threshold and shifted mid-stride, bones flowing seamlessly into human form. Moonlight traced his skin, and the bond burned bright at his throat like a living sigil.

His gaze found Selene across the hall.

And without raising his voice, he said:

“She’s already been claimed.”