Chapter 2

Chapter 2

ELARA

I think part of me had known, even before the fire came toward me, that this moment would destroy me.

Not because being named as Damon's fated mate was terrible. If I had been any other wolf — if I had been a normal she-wolf with a wolf inside me, with rank and strength and something to offer — then maybe this would have been the best moment of my life.

But I was Elara Voss.

And fate, apparently, had a very cruel sense of humor.

The crowd around me had erupted. Not in happiness — in shock. In confusion. A few people actually laughed, short and disbelieving, quickly smothered when they remembered where they were. I heard voices cutting through the noise:

"The wolfless one?"

"That can't be right."

"Did the Goddess make a mistake?"

I stood completely still while the white fire faded from around me. The warmth it had left was already draining out of my skin. The thing that had roared awake inside me was retreating, going quiet, as if it too understood that this was not safe.

Selene had let go of my hand.

I couldn't look at her.

Damon walked toward me.

The crowd parted for him like water. Of course it did. You didn't stand in the way of Alpha Damon Blackthorn — not if you had any instinct for self-preservation at all. His footsteps were slow and deliberate, and every step felt like it pressed down on my chest.

He stopped in front of me.

Up close, he was even more overwhelming. Taller than I'd realized, broader. The torchlight made shadows on his face that made him look carved out of something hard. His eyes were fixed on me — not looking me over the way men sometimes did when they thought I couldn't see, not calculating — just fixed, intense, with something burning behind them I couldn't name.

For one single, traitorous second, I felt the bond.

It hit me like a wave — warm and pulling and deep, like a hand reaching inside my chest and tugging. It felt like recognition. Like something saying: yes, this one, this is the one you've been looking for.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever felt.

It lasted about four seconds.

Damon's jaw tightened.

He looked at me the way someone looks at a problem they need to solve. Not a person. A problem.

"You are Elara Voss," he said. Not a question.

"Yes, Alpha." My voice came out steady. I don't know how.

"The wolfless omega."

Again, not a question. Just a fact being laid out. Being assessed.

"Yes."

He was quiet for a moment. The entire pack was quiet. Nobody moved. I think nobody even breathed.

Damon lifted his head and looked out at the crowd, and then he looked back at me.

"The Moon Goddess has named you," he said. "I do not deny that."

Something in my chest moved toward hope before it could stop itself.

"But I am the Alpha of this pack," he continued, his voice carrying easily across the silent circle. "My Luna must be strong. She must shift. She must stand beside me in battle, in ceremony, in everything this pack requires. She must be worthy of the position."

Each word landed like something being hammered into the ground.

"You are an omega without a wolf. You have never shifted. You carry no power, no rank, no ability that would serve this pack." He paused. "You cannot be my Luna."

There it was.

I had known it was coming. I had known it from the second the fire named us. And still, knowing didn't protect me from how it felt. The bond inside me made this worse than any normal rejection could be — it was like the universe had shown me a door and then bricked it up while I was still standing in front of it.

Damon raised his voice so that every wolf in the circle heard him clearly.

"I, Alpha Damon Blackthorn, reject Elara Voss as my fated mate."

The bond snapped.

I had read about this in old texts I wasn't supposed to be reading. I had heard older wolves describe it in hushed voices. Nothing prepared me for what it actually felt like. It was physical — a tear right through the center of my chest, like something being ripped out that had been growing there. My knees almost buckled. I caught myself.

I would not fall. Not here. Not in front of all of them.

"I choose," Damon continued, turning his eyes away from me like I was already dismissed, "Selene Archer as my Chosen Mate and future Luna of the Bloodmoon Pack."

Selene made a sound.

I finally looked at her.

Her face was beautiful in its joy — and broken in one specific place, one crack pointed at me. She knew what this cost me. She knew, and she was happy anyway, because this was everything she had wanted.

Understanding that didn't stop the pain from having her name.

Damon walked to Selene. He held out his hand. She took it. The crowd erupted — real joy now, real celebration. Someone started howling and others joined, the sound rising into the night sky.

I stood alone in the middle of all of it.

The High Priestess caught my eye from across the circle. She was the only one looking at me. Her old face was unreadable, but her eyes — there was something in her eyes. Something that looked almost like: I'm sorry.

I turned to leave.

I didn't make it far.