GIVEN TO THE WRONG ALPHA

The branding iron hit my shoulder before I finished screaming the Moon Goddess’s name.

Flesh sizzled. The smell of my own burning skin filled my nose. The entire Royal Court of Duskbane watched in silence.

“Hold her down,” Prince Caiden said. His voice was bored. He didn’t look at me. He watched my sister Lyra like I was a stain on his boot.

Lyra stood beside the obsidian throne in a silver gown that cost more than my village earned in a year. Her hands were clasped at her chest. Her gray eyes were wide and wet like she was the victim.

Two royal guards pinned my arms to the stone altar. The High Priestess pressed the iron deeper into my flesh. The sigil of “Unmated” branded me as packless. Worthless. The mark they give omegas who commit treason.

I hadn’t committed treason.

Five minutes ago I knelt on this same altar because the Moon Goddess spoke. Her voice came from inside my ribs. It filled the temple, filled the mountain: “Wren Holloway, Omega of the Hollow Pack. You are the fated consort to Prince Caiden Duskbane. Your bond will heal the bloodline curse.”

The court gasped. Wine glasses hit the floor.

Omegas don’t get princes. Omegas get culled during hard winters. Omegas get used in breeding camps. For ten seconds I thought the Moon Goddess made a mistake. A good one.

Then Caiden laughed. It wasn’t cruel. It was dismissive. Like someone told a joke that wasn’t funny.

He walked down from the throne. Seven steps. He took Lyra’s hand. Kissed her knuckles in front of everyone. In front of the glowing altar. In front of me.

“I reject her,” he told the High Priestess. “The Moon Goddess is mistaken. My mate is Lyra Holloway. Alpha blood. Trained. Suitable.”

Elder Moira went the color of ash. Her hands shook. “My prince, you cannot reject a fated bond. Not without ripping it out.”

“Then rip it out,” Caiden said. “Do it now.”

“Prince Caiden,” the Alpha King growled from the throne. His voice made the stone vibrate. “You will not defile the altar.”

“Or I’ll have my uncle do it,” Caiden said louder.

The court flinched like he’d thrown silver.

Alpha Draven Duskbane. The Alpha King’s younger brother. The Butcher of the Northern Border. He ended the Redfang War by hanging twelve Alpha heads on his gates.

He hasn’t been to court in six years. Not since he called Caiden unfit to rule.

Caiden nodded to the guards. “Brand her. Mark her Unmated. Then throw her to the rogues. I won’t have a liar wearing my family’s mark.”

Liar. He said it like fact.

The iron came out of the brazier. Orange-white. A guard grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. Another put his boot on my ribs. I felt something crack.

The iron touched me.

I didn’t scream at first. The pain was too big for sound. It was white. Then my throat found air and I screamed for the Moon Goddess because surely she wouldn’t name me then let them do this.

Through smoke I heard Lyra whisper, “Caiden, maybe we should wait.”

“Shh,” he said. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m protecting you from her schemes.”

Schemes. I scrubbed his floors. I brought him tea. What schemes?

The branding finished. Elder Moira lifted the iron. My skin kept burning.

“Sever the bond,” Caiden ordered.

She placed one palm on my chest. The other on Caiden’s.

It felt like my soul was fed through a grinder. I convulsed. Blood poured from my nose. Caiden grunted once.

The bond snapped.

I collapsed on the altar. The stone was cold against my cheek.

The Alpha King stood. He’s eight feet tall in war form. His voice shook dust from the ceiling. “You dare reject a Goddess-blessed bond? You spill sacred blood on the altar?”

Caiden lifted his chin. “I choose my own Luna. The pack will follow strength, not superstition.”

“Then you’ll follow the law,” the Alpha King roared. “Reject a Goddess consort and you forfeit the throne. Unless the insult is repaid with blood or a higher bond.”

The temple went dead silent.

Blood or a higher bond. Kill me as sacrifice, or marry me to someone higher than a prince.

Caiden’s face went white. He didn’t think that far.

Lyra gasped. “Father, surely not the old law.”

“Silence,” the Alpha King said. “You encouraged this treason. You’re both in it.”

He turned toward the shadows. “Draven.”

The name hit like a war drum.

A male stepped out between pillars.

He was huge. Black tactical armor. Black hair cut short. Scars down his throat. His eyes were winter. No color. Just ice.

He didn’t look at Caiden. He looked at me. Bleeding on the altar. His gaze was a blade checking for rot. Not cruel. Assessing.

“Brother,” Draven said. His voice was gravel and avalanche. “You summoned me for a culling?”

“No,” the King said. “A wedding.”

Draven tilted his head one degree.

“The girl. Wren Holloway. The Goddess chose her. Your nephew rejected her, branded her, severed her. Law says repay with a higher bond. You’re the only male here higher than a prince.”

Marry me to The Butcher. Death sentence with a veil. Everyone knew Draven killed his last three arranged matches. Said they were spies.

Caiden stepped forward. “Uncle, you don’t want her. She’s omega. Damaged. Untrained.”

Draven moved. One second he was ten feet away. Next his hand was around Caiden’s throat. He lifted the prince one-handed. Caiden kicked air.

“You branded a Goddess-marked female,” Draven said softly. “Severed a sacred bond. Bled her on holy stone. Thought there’d be no consequence?”

Caiden clawed at him. “She’s Omega.”

“I don’t care what she is,” Draven said. “You touched what was Mine.”

Mine.

He dropped Caiden. Walked to the altar. Pulled a black blade. Cut his palm. Grabbed my branded shoulder.

I screamed. His blood hit the burn. Agony. Then ice. Then something that rooted under my skin and howled and said *pack*.

“Can you stand, little wolf?” he said in my ear.

I got a foot under me. Vision swam.

He stood. “I accept the bond. She’s under my claim. The wedding is tonight.”

Caiden pushed up. “She’s mine to punish.”

Draven had Caiden’s dagger under his chin instantly. “Say it again. Say she’s yours.”

“She is my mate,” Draven said to the temple. “My little wolf. Anyone who touches her, I peel the skin from their bones while they scream.”

He ripped off his cloak. Dropped it over me. “Walk or I carry you. Choose.”

I walked.

At the doors, Lyra’s voice cracked: “Caiden, stop him! What if she tells him about the witch? What if she tells him about the bloodline deal?”

Draven stopped. Turned his head. Looked at Lyra.

“What,” he said, “will she tell me?”