Chapter 160: Force it.

Chapter 161

Alaric froze on the threshold, his heart hammering a rhythm against his ribs. His wolf, usually so mournful and distant, let out a snarl of warning in the back of his mind.

“Selena?” he rasped, stepping further into the room, the dim moonlight filtering through the single window to illuminate the bed.

There, sprawled across the dark furs, was Selena. She was fully naked, her pale skin glowing like ivory against the rough textures of the cabin.

She had positioned herself gracefully, her dark hair spread out like a fan across the pillows.

She shifted, her eyes—wide and dark with a manufactured hunger—locking onto his.

There was no shame in her gaze, only the same driving ambition that he had just seen in her mother’s eyes by the fountain. “You were gone a long time, Alaric,” she whispered, her voice sultry with a purr that made his skin crawl.

She sat up slowly, allowing the furs to slide down her hips, exposing the unmarred, markless skin of her body. “I thought you might need a reminder of what the pack expects. Of what I expect.”

Alaric stood rooted to the spot, the door still hanging open behind him. The sight of her should have made his blood boil with desire; she was objectively beautiful, the “Golden Luna” of every pack member’s dreams.

But as he looked at her, all he felt was a profound sense of exhaustion. The theater hadn’t ended at the Alpha’s office. It had followed him into his sanctuary.

“Selena, get dressed,” he said, his voice coming out colder than he intended. Her expression faltered for a heartbeat, a flash of genuine irritation crossing her face before she masked it with a pout.

“Why? We’re supposed to be ’mates,’ remember? My mother says we need to stop playing around and start acting like it. If the mark won’t appear on its own, maybe we should just… force the issue.”

She reached out a hand toward him, her fingers beckoning him closer to the bed but arlaric diverted, his eyes hardening. “Force the issue?” he repeated, the words tasting like poison.

He reached back and slammed the door shut against praying ears. “Is that what this is to you, Selena? A tactical maneuver? My father breathes down my neck in the office, your mother ambushes me by the fountain, and I come here to find you’ve turned my only sanctuary into a brothel?”

Selena flinched at his tone, her hand dropping back to the dark furs. The “hungry” facade slipped for a second, revealing the sharp edges of her temper.

She sat up fully, making no move to cover herself, “Don’t you dare judge me, Alaric,” she hissed, her voice losing its sultry purr. “I am doing what is necessary. The pack is whispering. My father is asking questions. Do you think I enjoy pretending to be a mate to a man whose wolf won’t even look at me? We are in this together. If the Moon Goddess is going to be silent, then we have to be loud.”

She stood up, walking toward him. Even naked, she carried herself like a queen demanding tribute.

She stopped just inches from him, her heat radiating off her body, but to Alaric, it felt like standing next to a space heater—artificial and dry.

“We need a mark,” she whispered, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with a manicured nail.

“If the Goddess won’t brand us, then your teeth will have to do. Bite me, Alaric. Mark me tonight. Once the pack sees the scar, the questions stop. Once I am officially yours, the Alpha’s seat is secure.”

Alaric looked down at her, and for a fleeting moment, he saw the ghost of Isabella again. Isabella, who had nothing but gave everything.

Selena had everything, yet she was asking him to commit a sacrilege. To fake a sacred mate-bond was the ultimate sin against their kind, a lie that would rot them from the inside out.

“I can’t,” Alaric rasped.

“You won’t” she corrected, her eyes narrowing. She pressed her body against his, her hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders.

“Think about your father. Think about the Blood-Moon pack. Are you really going to let everything crumble because you’re waiting for a magic spark that clearly isn’t coming? Look at me, Alaric! I am beautiful, I am strong, and I am here. Isn’t that enough?”

Inside his head, the wolf let out a long, mourning howl that felt like it was tearing Alaric’s soul in two.

He looked down at her—at the sharp line of her jaw, the way her chest heaved with a mixture of anger and desire, and the fire in her eyes.

She was right, wasn’t she? Logic, cold and unyielding, began to claw its way through the fog of his hesitation.

He was nineteen. The Alpha’s seat was a precarious throne, and a leader without a Luna was a leader with a bullseye on his back.

His father’s disappointment, the elders’ hushed murmurs, the pack’s collective gaze—it was all too much.

He was tired of being the only one waiting for a ghost. He was tired of the mourning whimpers of a wolf that seemed obsessed with a destiny that was clearly skipping him.

Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe the ’fated bond’ was just an old bedtime story told to pups to make the world seem more magical than it actually was.

In the real world, Alphas made alliances. They secured their borders. They took what was in front of them and made it work.

Alaric’s mind began to race, justifying the move with every heartbeat. If he marked her, the questions would die.

His father would be satisfied. Selena’s mother would finally pull her claws out of his neck. They could build a life on this—not a life of fire and soul-shattering light, but one of stability and power.

That was what an Alpha was supposed to want, wasn’t it? He reached out, his hands trembling as they settled on her bare waist.

Selena let out a small, triumphant breath, her body leaning into his as if she had already won. She tilted her head, exposing the soft, vulnerable curve of her neck, offering it up as a sacrifice to his teeth.

Alaric leaned in, his eyes blurring as he focused on the pale skin. His fangs began to ache, pushing against his gums, responding to the proximity of flesh.

Just one bite, he told himself. One bite and the theater becomes the reality. He lowered his head, his lips grazing the heat of her skin. Selena’s hands moved to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him to claim her and end the uncertainty.

The scent of her perfume was overwhelming now, a floral cage that he was preparing to lock himself into forever.

But then, the wind shifted. A draft from the poorly sealed window behind the bed cut through the cloying heat of the cabin.

It carried with it the scent of the deep forest, the damp earth, and something else—something so sharp and sweet it felt like a strike to Alaric’s sternum.

It wasn’t perfume. It wasn’t manufactured. It was a scent that smelled of ozone, of wild honey, and of a thunderstorm brewing over a field of mountain lilies.

Inside his head, the wolf didn’t just whine. It didn’t just pace.It roared. The sound was so sudden, so violent, that Alaric flinched back from Selena as if he had been burned.

His pupils blown wide, his heart thundered against his ribs. “Alaric?” Selena gasped, her voice shrill with confusion as she was nearly shoved back onto the furs. “What are you doing? Finish it!”

Alaric didn’t hear her. He couldn’t. The “sweet” smell had bypassed his logic, bypassed his father’s expectations, and bypassed the 19 years of training he’d endured.

It was a sensory overload that made the cabin feel like it was spinning. His wolf was clawing at the walls of his consciousness, screaming to be let out, its eyes fixed on the darkness outside that window.

His nostrils flared as he sucked in another breath of that impossible scent. It was coming from the direction of the border—far, far away, yet hitting him with more force than the woman standing right in front of him.

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