Smile. Selene. Smile.
I force my lips into a curve, to form at least a small smile. Was this what I'd keep doing all my
life?
Dear moon goddess, have mercy on me. Just have mercy on me.
The moment I step into the grand hall, I feel the weight of my fate pressing against my ribs,
heavy and suffocating. The corset in my dress was barely showing any support, the heels added
to my discomfort.
The music swells, a haunting symphony that curls through the grand ballroom like smoke.
Laughter and chatter mingle with the clinking of crystal glasses, but I barely hear any of it.
Golden chandeliers hang from vaulted ceilings, their light cascading over a sea of masked
figures who twirl and glide in a perfectly choreographed illusion of elegance. The scent of aged
wine, delicate florals, and something darker—something feral—lingers in the air, coating my
senses like a warning. It should be magical. It should be enchanting.
But all I can feel is dread. Fear. Anxiety. Sorrow.
All the horrid emotions combined together. I wasn't even being pessimistic. Tch.
Tonight, my engagement to Cassian is being announced. Tonight, I will smile and nod and allow
my life to be bartered away like a well-bred mare at auction.
A delicate flute of champagne is pressed into my hand, but I don't drink. My mask—black lace
adorned with onyx and silver—feels like a cage, a delicate lie designed to make me look
untouchable, mysterious, regal. My dress, flowing obsidian silk that clings to every curve, feels
less like something a future Luna should wear and more like a funeral shroud.
A hundred pairs of eyes land on me—some admiring, some assessing, and others waiting.
My mother's fingers brush against my arm, her nails digging in lightly—a silent warning.
"Smile, Selene." Her voice is soft, but the command in it is absolute. "You look too tense." She
whispers at my side, her own mask hiding the weariness in her features. "You are the future
Luna of Moonveil. Act like it.
I inhale sharply, forcing my lips to curl into the mask of a practiced, vacant smile. Even though I
know it doesn't reach my eyes.My role is clear. I am to be the perfect daughter, the dutiful future
Luna, the ideal political pawn.
The moment I agreed to this, I had resigned myself to it. A duty. A necessity. Marrying Cassian
would solidify my family's standing in the pack and ensure our survival.
My happiness doesn't matter. It's very insignificant. A Luna's happiness doesn't. It's all duty.
Obligation.
But why does it feel like a noose tightening around my throat?
I exhale, forcing myself to scan the room. Something dark lingers in the air.
Paranoia? Anxiety? I ignore it.
I nod appreciatively at the wolves who bow as I pass, their murmured congratulations like
needles pressing into my skin. They approve of this union. They believe Cassian and I will make
a formidable pair. Hypocrites. That I will bring strength to his rule, and he, stability to my name.
All these to hide their intentions. That they gain from such political union. Fools.
Across the ballroom, Cassian stands tall, his golden mask a flawless match to his tailored suit.
He is every inch the Alpha he was bred to be—strong, charismatic, ruthless.
He's busy talking to some men, probably business or politics. Not that I'm interested.
I should feel something. Excitement. Affection. At the very least, the whisper of the mate bond
pulling me toward him.
But there is nothing.
Not even a flicker.
Because Cassian is not my mate.
Yet in the eyes of our world, he will be my husband.
He would be my husband.
That statement had scared me for weeks but I've been saying it to remind myself and not lose
my guard. My mind. To lose anything I had left.
Fuck
I throw back the champagne in one swallow. If fate has decided to ignore me, then I will return
the favor.
The music shifts, a slow, haunting melody that curls through the ballroom like a whispered
promise. Couples move together, their bodies a breath apart, their masks nearly touching. The
sight makes my stomach twist.
True love. Does that even exist?
I need air.
I turn, moving toward the grand doors that lead to the balcony, but I don't make it far.
Because I collide with something solid.
No—someone.
A firm hand catches my waist, steadying me before I can stumble, and suddenly, I feel it.
Heat.
Electric. Intoxicating.
A shiver races down my spine, my breath catching in my throat. My fingers brush against the
lapel of a black suit, the fabric impossibly soft beneath my touch. Slowly, I lift my gaze.
And freeze.
His mask is silver, intricate, the designs curling like smoke over sharp cheekbones. His suit is
midnight black, tailored to perfection, but none of that matters.
Because it's his presence that unsettles me.
Dark. Confident. Dangerous.
"You should watch where you're going, kitten," he murmurs, in my ear, voice smooth as velvet,
but carrying the edge of something wicked.
The nickname sends a jolt through me. Kitten. Unfamiliar, teasing, intimate. So ironic for a
werewolf. Mocking.
I take a step back, my breath uneven, but his grip on my waist tightens. Not painfully. Just
enough to keep me in place.
Apologies," I say, though my voice comes out breathless. "I didn't see you there.. I'm sorry."
He tilts his head, studying me through the mask. "No, you're not."
"I..am–," I manage to say. I was suffocating.
A strange mix of unease and something else—something thrilling—curls in my stomach.
His scent reaches me then. Pine and embers. Wild and untamed. It clings to the space between
us, pulling me in like a whispered secret.
Then, without warning, he lifts my hand and presses it against his chest.
My breath hitches. I bite my lips.
Because beneath my palm, his heart is racing.
A sharp, unsteady rhythm.
My fingers twitch, a tremor of something unknown racing through me.
His lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk.
Like he knows.
Like he already understands what I refuse to admit.
The music shifts again, deepening into something darker, slower. A song that isn't just meant for
dancing, but for surrendering.
And before I can think. Before I can breathe, he steps forward.
Forcing me to step back.
One step. Then another.
A silent dance. A game I don't know the rules to, yet my body follows as if it does.
The ballroom blurs. The crowd fades.
There is only him.
Tell me," he murmurs, his lips brushing my earlobes, his voice laced with something dangerous.
Teasing. Tempting. Wicked. "Does your heart race for him the way it does for me?"
He doesn't stop there. His teeth grabs the shell of my ear.
I gasp. The air in my lungs vanishes.
Him? Right Cassian.
I should push him away. I should tell him to leave me alone.
But I don't.
Instead, my fingers tighten against his chest, my pulse hammering like a caged bird against my
ribs.
"No," my voice is a whisper. Almost sounding sultry. Needy.
The word hangs between us, a betrayal and a confession all at once.
His breath catches. Just for a second.
Then, his grip tightens, his smirk sharpening like a blade.
"Good."
And just like that—I'm lost.
And tonight? I was going to make the biggest mistake of my life.
Who was this man?