Chapter 5 Chapter 5

"Bride?"

The word felt like a stone in my mouth. I stood there, trembling in the silk dress that now felt like a shroud. "What are you talking about?"

Damon didn't flinch. His expression remained a mask of frozen granite. "You are the chosen one." He turned on his heel, his dark cloak billowing behind him. "Follow me."

The walk to the car was a blur. The cold night air nipped at my skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill radiating from the man beside me.

"Your parents didn't explain this to you?"

"No." My voice came out as a shaky whisper.

"They sold you to me." He stated it flatly, like he was describing the weather. "That’s all you need to know."

A sharp pang twisted in my chest, but I didn't cry. My tear ducts had dried up years ago in that hole under the stairs. I searched his profile, looking for a flicker of guilt or even a hint of cruelty. There was nothing. Just a void. To him, I was a transaction. An item added to an inventory.

The mansion was even more intimidating than the council hall. He led me into a massive suite lit by shimmering crystal chandeliers. Silk sheets, soft as a cloud, were spread across a king-sized bed.

"The rules are simple." He stood by the window, silhouetted against the moonlight. "You are my bride. You will stay in this wing. You will not approach me unless I call for you. You will not interfere in pack matters. Do whatever you want—as long as you stay out of my way."

I waited for the catch. A threat. A demand. But he just stood there, his gaze drifting to my hand. Before I could tuck it away, he lunged, his fingers locking around my wrist like a shackle.

"What happened here?"

"It was just a cut," I muttered, trying to pull back.

He ignored my struggle, studying the jagged slice on my palm from the broken glass earlier. His brow furrowed. "You’re human."

It sounded like an accusation.

I swallowed hard, my heart drumming against my ribs. "Is that a problem?"

He didn't answer immediately. He let go of my arm, stepping back into the shadows. "It complicates things."

"Complicates what?"

He didn't explain. His mask returned, smoother and colder than before. "Strange..."

He turned to leave, his presence retreating like a receding tide.

"What if I’m hungry?" I called out to his back.

He paused in the doorway, though he didn't look back. "You won’t be."

I watched him go, wondering if his heart was made of the same obsidian as his throne. The room felt cavernous once he was gone. Too quiet. Even the walls seemed to hold their breath, answering only to him.

A soft knock startled me. A young woman stepped inside, bowing low. "The Alpha assigned me to you. I’m Ava. Your personal maid."

"I don’t need a maid."

"It wasn't a request, Luna Amanda." She offered a polite, practiced smile. "The Alpha says you will accompany him for a walk this evening. Before that, we go shopping. Choose anything you like. But first—you must eat. Follow me."

She led me to a dining room that looked like a royal banquet. Silver trays overflowed with delicacies I’d only ever smelled from a distance. Roasted meats, exotic fruits, and desserts dusted with gold.

Ava watched me, her eyes tracking every movement like I was a science experiment. I didn't care. Hunger was a screaming beast in my gut, louder than any shred of pride I had left. I didn't wait for a chair to be pulled out. I dove in.

I tasted everything—spices that burned, sweets that melted, and rich sauces I couldn't name. I ate until the plates were half-empty and my stomach finally stopped aching.

"I think you need to calm down, Luna," Ava whispered, her eyes wide with shock.

I ignored her, wiping my mouth with a silk napkin. I was a starving dog who had finally found a bone.

After a bath that smelled of expensive oils, I chose a dress from the wardrobe. It was a deep, midnight blue that clung to my curves. I stared at the girl in the mirror. She looked composed. Powerful.

I traced the faint curve of the tattoo on my skin. Under the soft bathroom lights, it looked darker. It felt warm—almost pulsing, like a second heartbeat beneath my flesh. Just my imagination, I told myself.

A shadow fell across the doorway. Damon stood there, watching me. Ava vanished instantly, leaving us in a heavy silence.

"I assume she explained the schedule." He held out a sleek black card. "Use it. Make yourself presentable."

I took the card, my fingers brushing his. A spark of heat climbed up my arm. "You didn't have to bring this yourself."

He didn't respond. His eyes were locked on my hand. My breath hitched.

The tattoo was glowing. A faint, ethereal gold light throbbed beneath my skin. Damon grabbed my wrist again, his grip tight. He turned my hand over.

The cut was gone.

No scar. No scab. Not even a faint line to show where the glass had sliced me an hour ago.

Damon’s breathing turned ragged. His eyes darkened until they were almost entirely black.

"You don't heal." His voice was a low, dangerous growl. "You regenerated. What are you?"

My mouth went dry. I looked at my palm, my mind reeling. I didn't have an answer.

Before he could demand one, the door burst open. A guard rushed in, his face pale and slick with sweat.

"Alpha..." he gasped.

Damon didn't take his eyes off me. "What?"

"The council... all the Alphas and elders from the neighboring packs are here." The guard swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "And they’re demanding the girl with the mark."