His Fake Destined Bond, My True King Mate

My sacred bonding ceremony with Alpha King Alaric should have been the crowning moment of my life.

Instead, Silas Greyson ambushed us on a blood eclipse.

He slaughtered the border guards, defiled the altar, and stole our sacred relic, the Eye of the Moon.

Channelling its corrupted light, he forged a false bond and sank his fangs into my throat.

"Ophelia, you belong to me," he whispered with mad devotion. "If I can't have you, we burn together."

When I woke, my memories were wiped and my priestess gifts locked away.

Bruised and limping, Silas cradled me like a devoted savior. "My fated mate," he lied smoothly. "The Moon Goddess brought you back to me."

For five years, he ruled beside me.

But dark sorcery always decays.

As the false bond frayed, Silas grew restless. Soon, he took Mara—a low-ranking Omega who bore my features and fed his ego.

Tonight, at the Solstice banquet, Mara finally made her move. Thrusting out her belly, she fingered the stolen Eye of the Moon pendant hanging against her chest.

"Alpha Silas gave me your sacred crest," she announced smugly to the crowded hall. "I'm carrying his heir. So, Ophelia, when are you vacating the Luna seat?"

The room went dead silent.

Silas sat at the high table, eyes dark and guarded.

I didn't flinch. "If I'm done with the trash, you're welcome to it."

Panic flared in Silas's eyes.

He had no idea my memories had returned. He didn't know the forged bond was shattering.

Alaric, my true mate and the undisputed Alpha King, had spent five years hunting for me.

Silas was utterly ruined; he just didn't know it yet.

Silas shoved past the crowd and grabbed my wrist, his voice dropping to a coaxing purr.

"Ophelia, Mara was just a mistake. I was drugged on patrol! She means nothing. But She's innocent too. I'll make sure she stays in her place."

I yanked my arm away without looking at him.

Mara seized the opening, pressing flush against his side. "Silas, you warned me she was terrifying. But if you don't love her, she's just a placeholder. Why does she deserve to be your Luna?"

She rubbed her belly, tilting her chin up. "Take me back to our quarters, Silas. Our little pup is kicking. He wants his father."

Silas didn't move. He watched my face, desperately searching for a flicker of jealousy.

I merely smiled. "Did I give you permission to leave?"

Mara’s smirk faltered.

"First," I said coldly, "I am the hereditary Moon Priestess and Luna of this pack. You kneel when you speak to me."

Her jaw tightened.

"Second, that pendant around your neck isn't a trophy. It's just a trinket I grew bored with and threw away."

Hissing in fury, Mara lunged at me.

Silas's Beta stepped in, catching her by the shoulders. "Luna, please! She's emotional right now—she doesn't know what she's doing."

I stared right at her flat stomach, unbothered. "Five years ago, after my accident, Silas swore he'd rather adopt pack orphans than make me suffer through labor. He couldn't bear to see me in pain."

I stepped closer, letting my gaze rake over her. "I guess that means you're just his disposable broodmare. The second you pop that pup out, you're out on the street."

Mara turned white.

"You lose," I murmured.

An awkward laugh broke out among the elders. "The Luna is just fiercely protective of our Alpha... Mara, since you're pregnant, why don't you go get some rest?"

Silas visibly relaxed, a smug, relieved smile spreading across his face. "Ophelia... I knew you still loved me."

He actually thought I was fighting for him.

I pointed directly at Mara's stomach. "You lost our little game, Mara. As your penalty, I want that pup."

Mara slapped both hands over her belly, screeching, "Don't you dare touch my baby!"

"What baby?" I let out a soft laugh. "There is no pup in there. It's just a phantom illusion brewed from forbidden Moon-Spawn Elixir."

After my memories returned, I had tracked down the black-market apothecary—and found Mara buying the forbidden draught with pack gold.

Silas thought he was the ultimate puppet master, yet he was being played by a third-rate Omega.

I drew my Moon-Silver Dagger and slid it across the polished oak table.

The sacred blade gleamed under the chandeliers.

"Cut the farce out yourself," I said evenly, "or should I do it for you?"

Mara clutched her stomach, a feral malice twisting her face.