The Wrong Brother's Bite

Lamia Blackmoor POV

“You cannot marry me?” I say.

My heart goes fast. It hits my ribs hard like a trapped wolf. My skin goes very cold and my hands shake so much that the hot drink spills on my fingers. It hurts but I do not move.

“I am sorry, Lamia,” Rham says. He does not look at my eyes. He looks at the big rug on the floor. “The eternal moonmark is not there. I cannot do this. Not next week, not ever.”

“We are six days away from the Blood Moon Celebration,” I say. My voice sounds small. It sounds like a little girl, not the future Luna of the Jasperfang Pack. “The whole Moonshadow Dominion is coming. The Sacred Moon Temple is ready for us.”

He takes a big breath. His face is very white and he looks sick. He wears his dark hunting coat but he looks small inside it. He looks like a ghost.

“My father is dying on the pack bed upstairs,” Rham says. His voice is shaking. “He wants the Silverclaw Throne to be safe. But I cannot lie to the Grand Wolf Assembly. I cannot take you as my Luna when my wolf does not howl for you.”

I stand up. My legs feel like soft mud. I look at him and I feel so mad. My family is the Blackmoor Moonfang Pack. We made the Mooncrest Artisan Hall great. I work hard every day to make our pack powerful. This wedding is everything we planned since we were little pups.

“Your wolf does not howl for me?” I ask. I walk close to him. I want to hit his chest. “We danced at the pack ceremonies. We ran in the Whispering Moon Woods together. You said I am the best choice for the pack!”

“Choice is not the bond,” Rham says. He steps back. He looks scared of me. “The Moon Goddess did not pick you for me. I found my true fated moonmate, Lamia.”

My breath stops. It feels like someone punched me in the tummy. The room goes dark around the edges.

“Who is it?” I ask. My throat feels dry and tight. “Tell me who she is.”

“It is Christine,” he says.

Christine Thornfield. My trusted Beta friend. The girl who works with me at the Silvermoon Herald Agency. The one who knows all my secrets.

“She is a low wolf,” I say. My voice gets loud. “She does not have ancient wolf legacy! Your mother, Sylvia, will hate this. King Aldric will die from anger!”

“She has my heart,” Rham says. He looks strong now. His eyes glow a little bit green. “My wolf chose her. I am leaving the Jasperfang Pack territory tonight. We are running to the Shadowfang Wilds.”

“You are a coward!” I scream.

He turns around and runs out of the room. The big wooden door slams shut. Bang! The noise makes me jump. I am all alone in the big room of the Blackmoor Grove manor. The fire is burning hot but I feel like I am sitting in the ice of the Frostfang Highlands. Everything is ruined. The Silvercrest Territory will laugh at my family. I am the golden girl who got left behind.

The door opens again. I think it is Rham coming back to say he is sorry. I turn around fast.

But it is not Rham.

It is Clay Jasperfang.

He is Rham’s older brother. He is very tall and built like a dark wall. People call him the rogue prince because he always breaks the rules and has a dangerous aura around him. He does not look like a soft prince. He looks like a lethal warrior who knows how to fight and win. His jaw is sharp, and his dark leather vest fits tight across his broad shoulders. His eyes are pitch black, sharp, and full of trouble.

“He is gone, Lamia,” Clay says. His voice is deep. It sounds like a low growl in the dark woods.

“You knew?” I ask. I feel so much anger inside me. My claws want to come out. “You let him do this to me?”

“I tried to stop him,” Clay says. He walks into the room. He moves slow and smooth, like a wild predator stalking its prey. “But a wolf who runs from his duty is not a true Alpha anyway.”

“The throne needs an Alpha King next week,” I say. I wipe my face because a tear is coming down. I do not want him to see me cry. “My pack will lose everything. The Covenant of Silver Wolves will break.”

Clay stops right in front of me. He smells like wild rain and sharp cedar wood. He is much bigger than Rham, casting a long shadow over me. He stands so close I can feel the heat coming off his strong body. He tilts his head, a small, dangerous smile on his lips.

“The throne does not have to be empty,” Clay says. He looks down at me.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I am the firstborn prince,” Clay says. He takes my hand. His grip is large, warm, and completely steady as it covers mine. “Marry me instead.”