Chapter 21
Selene stood at the edge of the clearing, her heart beating against her ribs. The Moon Festival was in full swing, lanterns hanging from tree branches throwing a golden glow over the pack members who laughed, danced, and feasted under the night sky. Music filled the air, a lively tune played on drums and flutes that made even the most serious dogs tap their feet. She smoothed down her silver dress, a gift from Lyra who insisted she wear something special tonight. “You’re the Luna,” Lyra had said, “whether Dante admits it or not.” Thinking of Dante made Selene’s stomach twist. For weeks, the Alpha had barely recognized her existence. He spoke to her only when necessary, his golden eyes cold and detached. Every effort to connect with him hit a wall of ice. “You came,” a voice said behind her. Selene turned to find Jace, Dante’s Beta, watching her with those knowing eyes. “I almost didn’t,” she revealed. Jace offered a small smile. “The pack needs to see their Luna participating in traditions.” “I’m not their Luna,” Selene whispered. “Not really. Not when their Alpha can barely look at me.” Across the clearing, Dante stood talking with the pack leaders, regal and imposing in his black ceremonial clothes. As if feeling her gaze, he looked up, their eyes locking for a brief moment before he returned to his conversation. “He’s hurting,” Jace said quietly. “It doesn’t excuse his behavior, but there’s more to your mate than what he shows.” Before Selene could answer, a small figure darted between dancing couples and stopped in front of her. Ivy—her seven-year-old sister who should have been seventeen—gazed up with serious eyes. “You’re supposed to dance,” Ivy said, her voice having that eerie wisdom that made Selene’s skin prickle. Since her strange return, Ivy had been a shadow of her former self, watching everyone with those too-old eyes. “No one’s asked me,” Selene answered with a forced smile. Ivy tilted her head. “He will.” The music suddenly changed, changing to a slower, more haunting melody that Selene recognized as the traditional mate’s dance.
Couples started pairing off, and the crowd parted like magic. Standing in the cleared space was Dante, his intense gaze fixed straight on Selene. The crowd fell silent as he walked toward her with purposeful steps. Whispers spread through the pack, eyes widening in surprise. Even Elara Frost, who had been hanging off Dante’s arm all evening, looked shocked. Selene’s breath caught as Dante stopped in front of her. Up close, his scent—pine and winter and something uniquely him—made her wolf whine with desire. “Dance with me,” he said. Not a request, but not quite an order either. Selene felt everyone looking, waiting to see what she would do. Refusing the Alpha during the Moon Festival would be an insult, but taking meant something else entirely—public acknowledgment of their bond. “Why now?” she whispered, low enough that only he could hear. Something flashed in his eyes—pain or sorrow, she couldn’t tell. “Because the moon doesn’t wait for wolves to be ready.” He extended his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Selene put her trembling fingers in his palm. His warm skin against hers sent lightning up her arm, their mate bond humming to life after weeks of silence.
Dante led her to the center of the clearing.
As tradition demanded, the Alpha and his mate would lead the dance. He put one hand on her waist, keeping the other clasped firmly with hers. “Everyone’s staring,” Selene murmured as they began to move with the music. “Let them,” Dante answered, his voice low. “It’s time they remembered who their Luna is.” His words sent shock through her system. This was the first time he had referred to her as Luna—as his. “I don’t understand you,” she admitted as he spun her elegantly. “One minute you can’t stand to look at me, the next you’re claiming me in front of the entire pack.” Dante’s jaw tightened. “It’s complicated.” “Then uncomplicate it,” she challenged, meeting his eyes without flinching. For a moment, the mask slipped, and Selene glimpsed raw pain beneath. “Some wounds never heal, little wolf.” As the music got louder, Dante pulled her closer, and their bodies moved together. Selene was hurt and confused, but she couldn’t deny how good it felt to be in his arms. It was like puzzle pieces were fitting together. Selene saw Elara watching them out of the corner of her eye. Elara’s beautiful face was twisted with anger. The rebel wolf Gideon stood next to her. He whispered something in Elara’s ear while his dark eyes looked away. “Your fan is making plans with your enemy,” Dante whispered as he followed her look. “Gideon is not a fan of mine,” Selene replied. “No?” Dante’s grip got a little tighter. “He watches you like a starving man eyes a feast.” Was that… anger in his voice? She felt her heart beat faster. “Why do you care? You made it clear I mean nothing to you.” Dante’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Is that what you think?” Before she could answer, the music ended. Tradition demanded that the Alpha now kiss his mate to complete the ceremony, blessing the pack with fertility and strength. The crowd watched eagerly. Dante hesitated, conflict obvious in his expression. Then, in a move that shocked everyone—including Selene—he raised her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her inner wrist, right over her pulse point. Gasps echoed through the clearing.
This was an even more personal gesture in wolf culture—claiming her scent point, marking her as his in the most primal way. “Mine,” he growled softly against her skin. The pack exploded in howls and cheers. Selene felt dizzy with confusion and hope and fear all mixed together. What game was Dante playing? Across the clearing, Ivy stood watching them, her small face serious. But what caught Selene’s attention was the dark figure behind her sister—a woman with familiar features that made Selene’s blood run cold. It couldn’t be. But there she stood—their mother, who had died years ago. The apparition smiled, putting a finger to her lips in a shushing motion before melting back into the shadows. “What’s wrong?” Dante asked, feeling her sudden stress. Selene opened her mouth to tell him, but before she could speak, a blood-curdling scream cut through the party. All heads turned to see Lyra collapsed on the ground, her body convulsing fiercely. “She’s been poisoned!” someone yelled. As chaos broke around them, Dante’s protective arm came around Selene. His body tensed, alert to danger. “Stay close to me,” he ordered.
Through the terrified crowd, Selene caught sight of Elara slipping away, a satisfied smile on her perfect face. Next to her was Ivy, her little sister’s hand held tightly in Elara’s. “Dante,” Selene gasped, grabbing his arm. “She’s taking Ivy!” Their eyes met, understanding passing between them. Something had shifted tonight—the wall between them cracking, if not fully falling. “Find Jace and stay with him,” Dante directed, already moving toward the commotion surrounding Lyra. “No,” Selene said firmly, startling them both. “My sister needs me.” Something like respect flickered in Dante’s eyes. “Then we go together.” As they raced after Elara and Ivy, Selene couldn’t shake the picture of her dead mother watching from the shadows. One dance had changed everything—but whether for better or worse remained to be seen. The Moon Festival, meant to celebrate togetherness, had just become a battlefield.