Mated To The Alpha

Elara's POV

"After tonight, everything changes."

I whispered it to myself like a prayer late in the evening as I crossed the courtyard toward Gareth's private garden. The moon hung low and heavy, painting the stone walls in silver. Tomorrow was my coming-of-age ceremony. Tomorrow was the Moon Prayer Rite. And tomorrow, I would finally hear him say the words I'd waited so long for.

A wedding date.

My heart hammered with each step. The hem of my worn dress dragged against the cobblestones, but I didn't care. I'd scrubbed my hands raw in the kitchens today, polished every candelabra in the east wing, and mended several of Isolde's gowns - all without complaint. Because none of it mattered. Not the aching fingers. Not the whispered insults from the servants who thought a foundling had no business dreaming of a prince.

Gareth loved me. He'd said so. And love, I believed, was stronger than blood.

The garden gate was unlocked.

Strange. He usually bolted it from inside when he wanted privacy. I pushed it open, and the hinges groaned softly.

Moonlight flooded the path between the rose hedges. The air smelled sweet - too sweet - like crushed petals and expensive perfume that wasn't mine.

I heard laughter first. Low and intimate.

Then I saw them.

Gareth stood beneath the old willow tree, his broad shoulders blocking most of the figure pressed against him. But I could see the golden hair spilling over his arm. I could see the pale, slender fingers curling against his collar.

And I could see the necklace.

The Nightfire ruby pendant - the one Gareth had shown me in secret, the one he'd promised would be mine on our engagement night - glittered against Isolde's throat like a drop of blood.

My stepsister.

My legs stopped working. The world tilted sideways.

"It suits you far better than it ever would have suited her," Gareth murmured, adjusting the clasp at the back of Isolde's neck. His voice was velvet-soft. The voice he used only with me. Or so I had believed.

Isolde tilted her chin up and smiled. "Of course it does. Rubies were never meant for mongrel blood."

A sound escaped me. Something between a gasp and a whimper.

They both turned.

Gareth's face went white. His hands dropped from Isolde's shoulders as if her skin had burned him. He took a step back, fumbling with his collar, straightening it with trembling fingers.

Isolde didn't move. She didn't flinch. She simply looked at me with those pale blue eyes, and her smile widened.

"Dear sister," she said. "You're early."

I couldn't speak. The ruby pendant caught the moonlight, and each flash felt like a blade dragged across my ribs.

"Elara-" Gareth started.

"How long?" My voice came out cracked. Barely a whisper.

Isolde laughed. A delicate, musical sound. "Oh, don't be dramatic. Months, if you must know. Mother and Father arranged it all quite carefully. Did you really think a prince of the Nightfire bloodline would bind himself to someone who hasn't even awakened her wolf? You can't even shift, Elara. You're practically human."

Every word landed like a fist. Because she was right. My wolf had never stirred. Not once. In a world where blood determined everything - rank, power, worth - I was nothing. A foundling with no lineage. A charity case the Baron and Baroness had taken in to polish their reputation.

And I had been fool enough to believe I could be loved despite it.

"That's enough, Isolde." Gareth's voice was strained. He stepped toward me, reaching for my hand.

I pulled back. "Don't touch me."

"Elara, listen to me." He caught my wrist. His grip was tight. Too tight. I could feel my bones grinding together. "This doesn't have to change anything between us. You can still be part of my life. My closest confidante. My-"

"Your what?" I stared at him. "Your mistress?"

His jaw clenched. He didn't deny it.

Something inside me snapped. I wrenched my arm free with a strength I didn't know I had. His fingers left bruises - I could already feel them blooming under my skin.

"You're a coward," I said. "Both of you."

Isolde's smile vanished. "Watch your tongue, low-blood sister. You should be grateful we kept you around this long."