Fated To The Direwolf King

The moment the silver dagger pierced my heart, it was even colder than I'd imagined.

My blood spread across the cold stone of the Silver Moon altar, seeping into the ancient runes and staining them red. My vision blurred at the edges, but I still refused to look away from the two people in front of me.

Kalen Blackrock, the fated mate I had loved all my life, was holding my delicate, pitiful adopted sister Ivy in his arms. He didn't spare me so much as a glance. He only wiped, with obvious disgust, at a single droplet of blood that had splashed onto his leather boot.

"Seraphina, don't blame me." Ivy's voice was as sweet as ever, cloying like poisoned honey. She nestled closer into Kalen's embrace, fingers playing with the tribal token that was supposed to be mine—a moonstone. "Sister, since you're the future chief of the Silver Moon Pack, sacrificing your heart to the Moon Goddess for Kalen's ambition is what you should do, right?"

"She talks too much," Kalen cut in coldly, silencing her. The wolf's eyes that had once made me fall hopelessly in love now held only impatience. "Finish the ritual, Ivy. You're the one most suited to stand at my side as Luna."

Blood bubbled up my throat. I wanted to scream, to curse them, but no sound came out.

So this was how it ended for me.

For him, I had emptied the Silver Moon Pack's stores. For him, I had distanced myself from the father who cherished me. For him, I had driven away the half-blood bodyguard who always stood behind me, scarred from head to toe...

In the last moment before my consciousness scattered, I saw a black shadow break through the altar guards like a madman.

Fenrir.

The lowly half-blood I had insulted and driven away countless times. He was drenched in blood as he shifted into a massive wolf, hurling himself at Kalen without a thought for his own life—only to be shot down midair by a hail of silver arrows.

He collapsed a few yards from me. Even in death, those eyes—always silent, always enduring—never left my face. There was no hatred in them. Only endless sorrow and... love.

If there is a next life...

If there is a next life, I will never spare that bastard so much as a single glance.

Everything you owe me—I'll make you pay back a thousandfold.

"Seraphina? Seraphina!"

A sudden clamor of drums crashed into my ears. My heart clenched hard, and my eyes flew open.

Blinding sunlight. A noisy crowd. The air thick with the smell of roasting meat and pine resin. I gulped for air, my back soaked in cold sweat beneath my silk gown.

Where... is this? Hell?

"Miss, are you all right?"

A low, rough voice sounded at my side, carrying a hint of cautious deference.

I jerked my head toward it.

The face that came into view was sharply cut, crisscrossed with tiny scars. He wore the cheapest linen clothes, an iron collar around his neck marking him as a slave. Messy black hair fell over half of one eye as he knelt on one knee at my feet, holding up a cup of water.

Fenrir.

Fenrir, alive.

My hand trembled as I reached out, my fingertips brushing the warmth of his cheek. Solid, real.

Fenrir's whole body went rigid, as if my touch had burned him. He ducked his head quickly, his voice turning even more subdued. "Miss, I shouldn't have come so close. Please... punish me."

He thought I was going to hit him. Just like I had in my past life.

I drew in a long breath and forced down the sting in my eyes, then looked around.

Towering totem poles. My father, still alive, sat on the high platform, laughing and chatting with the elders. In the center of the square, young werewolves were showing off their strength.

Today was the Silver Moon Pack's once-every-five-years "Mate Selection Ceremony."

On this very day in my previous life, I had publicly declared Kalen to be my fated mate. For him, I had turned away every suitor, and even gone so far as to fight with my father, insisting on marrying Kalen with the full dowry of our pack.

I had come back to life.

Back to the day the nightmare began.

"Seraphina!"

A voice rang out from ahead, laced with arrogance and the easy assumption of being owed. The crowd parted on its own, making way for a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes. He wore a luxurious fur cloak, every step radiating an Alpha's oppressive dominance.

Kalen.

The instant I saw his face, the hand hidden in my sleeve clenched so tightly my nails nearly broke skin.

Half a step behind him walked a girl in a white dress, looking fragile and pitiable. Ivy. She lifted her eyes toward me, timid on the surface, yet with a glint of challenge carefully buried in their depths.

"Why are you still spacing out?" Kalen strode up to me, looking down from above, a frown tugging at his brow. "The ceremony's about to start. Everyone's waiting for you to make the announcement. I know you want to surprise me, but don't drag it out."

He reached for me, intending to slide an arm around my waist like he always had, the movement so practiced it might as well have been a favor he was bestowing.

"Come here, my Luna."

The crowd broke into whistles and envious sighs. In my past life, my face would have gone bright red as I flung myself into his arms, reveling in this so-called "honor."

But now.

Looking at that outstretched hand, all I felt was disgust. A twisting, churning nausea in the pit of my stomach.

Just before his fingers brushed the fabric of my gown, I stepped back sharply and lifted my hand.

Smack.

The crisp sound didn't land on his face. I had struck his hand away, hard.

The air froze.

The once-boisterous square went dead silent.

Kalen stared at me, stunned, his hand hanging awkwardly in midair, disbelief written all over his face. Ivy's eyes flew wide, as if she were seeing a ghost.

"Seraphina?" Kalen's expression darkened, anger tightening his voice. "What kind of tantrum are you throwing?"

I straightened my back, smoothed the front of my dress, and let my lips curve into a cold, distant smile.

"Throwing a tantrum? No, Kalen."

I met his gaze head-on. There wasn't a trace of love left in my eyes—only killing frost.

"I just think your hands are filthy. Don't touch me."