Chapter 2 A Stranger's Face

Deborah's POV

Deborah had never felt trapped in her own room before. She was usually free to run and move as she pleased, to forget everything and just focus on physical activity.

But now, backing out of this marriage would give the Council what they wanted.

She still felt the touch of Erick's skin on her hand. She looked at her palm, almost expecting to see some kind of mark from the ceremony.

But her hand was normal. Just her usual rough skin from sword practice, a small scar from when she was fifteen, and her strong fingers used to pack life.

Completely normal.

Except for the fact that silver fire had come out of her skin when Erick touched her.

"This is crazy," she said to herself, pacing. The scent of Maya's perfume was calming.

"And lots of wine."

Deborah smiled and opened the door to see Maya, holding two bottles and looking sympathetic.

Maya came in, put the bottles on the table by the window, and got out two glasses.

"Also, I accidentally chained Elder Castellan to the records room. Just so you know."

"Maya."

"What? Everyone knows that."

Maya poured the drinks and gave one to Deborah. "Now, tell me what happened in that ceremony room. Everyone in the pack house is talking about it."

Deborah picked up her glass. "What are they saying?"

"That you and the stranger made the torches flare. That your eyes turned silver. That Elder Morgana looked like she had just been given everything she wanted."

"Is any of that true?" Maya asked softly.

"The eyes, I don't know," Deborah said, drinking. "But the rest, yes. Something happened when we touched. A connection, or a surge, or..." She stopped.

"A bond?"

"Don't." Her voice was sharper than she meant it to be. "It's politics, prophecy, and Council manipulation."

"The prophecy." Maya put down her glass. "Deborah, what do you know about the Lunar Bloodline?"

"Myths. Stories Elder Thorne told me when I was a kid. Two souls born with ancient power, silver and gold, to fix what was broken. It's just a bedtime story, Maya."

"What if it's not?"

Deborah didn't answer. She wanted to laugh it off, to ignore it. She didn't want to feel like she wasn't in control.

"Then I'm in trouble," she said. "Because I don't want a mate. I don't want a destiny. I want to make my own choices and be a pack leader, not a pawn in some prophecy."

Maya was quiet, then said softly, "He seems nice."

"Who?"

"Erick. He was worried about you after you ran."

"He doesn't know me well enough to be worried," Deborah said, refilling her glass. "He's just a political tool the Council pulled out of nowhere."

"He's not from nowhere," Maya said. "But that doesn't make him fit to be my husband."

"Nothing could make anyone worthy of that," Maya smiled. "You're terrifying, even on your best day."

Deborah laughed, even though she didn't feel like herself. "I am, aren't I?"

"Absolutely horrifying. It's one of your best qualities."

Her smile faded. "But Deb, you can't run from this. The Council has decided. You're getting married in two days. You need to talk to him."

"And say what? Sorry, I ran, but you burned my hand with fire, and I'm scared."

"That would be a start."

Another knock. The scent wasn't Maya's. Deborah's wolf recognized it instantly: Erick.

"Alpha Parker?" His voice came through the door. "Elder Thorne sent me something."

Maya raised her eyebrows. Deborah opened the door and saw Erick holding a leather-bound book.

"Elder Thorne said you'd want this. Something about family history."

Deborah knew what it was: her personal journal of pack lineages. Their fingers touched, and the flash came again, weaker, but still there. Erick felt it too; she saw it in his eyes.

"I should go," he said.

"Wait." The word slipped out. She was barefoot, her hair was loose, and she suddenly felt vulnerable. "Everyone else is busy."

"Alone," Maya added, grabbing the bottles.

"Maya."

"What? I'm helping." She looked at Erick.

Now Deborah was alone with the man who could be her destined love, or at least her arranged husband.

Erick stood near the door, unsure what to say. Deborah, who had faced wars and Council battles, suddenly found talking to him scarier than fighting.

"You go first," Erick said. "It wasn't fair of them to force this on you."

Something eased in his face. "I understand. I'd be angry too if someone told me I had to marry a stranger. I feel bad that this is happening to us."

"Why did you agree?" she asked. "The Council can't control a drifter."

"They gave me something I've never had: a place to belong." He looked out the window.

"When Elder Thorne said I could help unite the packs, it seemed worth it."

"Even if it costs your freedom?"

"I've been free all my life. It's overrated." He turned to her. "What about you? Why haven't you run?"

"I thought about it," she said. "But this is my pack. And the Council would just replace me with someone who wanted this marriage for the power."

"So we're both trapped."

"Seems that way."

A silence followed, but it wasn't unpleasant. Erick sat on the edge of her bed, keeping his distance.

Deborah studied him, torn between attraction and anger.

"What happened in the ceremony room?" Erick asked. "Have you ever felt anything like that before?"

"No. I control fire when I want to. It felt like something else controlled it."

"Same here. I've hidden the golden light for years; it used to scare people." He raised his hand, and a golden light flickered briefly. "I learned to control it. Until tonight."

"The prophecy," Deborah muttered. "Elder Morgana mentioned it. The Lunar Bloodline."

"Elder Thorne said once there was a bloodline holding both moon and sun, silver and gold. He never expected it to come back."

"Then why does he think we're the heirs?"

"Because of this." Erick rolled up his sleeve, showing a golden birthmark. "I've had it since birth. He says it marks Lunar descendants. Do you know about it?"

Deborah pulled aside her collar, revealing a small silver mark on her shoulder, mirroring his. "Thorne only said it made me special."

"He lied to both of us," Erick said quietly. "The Council knew. They've been planning this."

"For how long?"

"Does it matter? I don't want this either. But we don't have a choice. And whatever this is, it's not real."

"So what do you suggest?"

"A truce. We stop fighting and figure out what's really going on, why the Council wants this, what they're hiding." He looked her in the eyes.

"Maybe it's time we played our own game."

Deborah studied him. He wasn't what she'd expected. Fighting each other wouldn't help.

"This connection doesn't define us."

"Agreed." He started to offer his hand, then pulled it back. "Maybe we can skip the handshake this time."

Deborah smiled slightly. "Probably wise."

At the door, he paused. "For what it's worth, I meant it. I don't want to take your freedom. This may be political, but it doesn't have to be a prison."

"We'll see," she said, not as sharply as before.

After he left, she sat by the window, looking at her reflection.

Her eyes were normal again, but deep down, she felt a hum, a heartbeat that wasn't her own.

Tomorrow meant more Council meetings, more talk of weddings, and questions with no answers.

"Partners, not mates," she told herself.

So why did it feel like a lie?

Then she heard voices outside. She pressed her ear to the door.

"...can't be certain yet," Elder Castellan's rough voice said.

"The marks prove it," Elder Morgana said. "The hybrid bride and her golden mate."

Hybrid bride.

Transformation.

"Silence," Elder Thorne snapped. "She can't know. Not until the binding."

"She'll find out when the change begins," Morgana said.

"The marriage will proceed in two days." Deborah stood frozen, her heart pounding.

She looked down at her hand, the one that had sparked with silver fire, and for the first time since childhood, Deborah Parker was afraid.