Chapter 1: A Sacrifice in Lace and Silence
The lace itched.
It was the first thing Lexi noticed, standing in the gloom of the chapel’s antechamber. Black silk dress that fell to her feet in a loose A line, fitted in the waist with an intricate gold belt so delicate it looked like woven lace, on her shoulders matching gold and on her wrists matching cuffs all belonging to her human mother and all of it made this wedding dress look more like armour. They’d told her not to wear it. but she didnt care this was her last act of rebelion.
From the main chamber, a low, rhythmic chanting had begun. The elders. Their voices were dry as the dead leaves skittering across the cracked marble floor she could see through the arched doorway.
Lexi took a slow breath. The air was cold, tasting of damp earth and something older—mildewed hymn books, extinguished candles, dust. She focused on the physical sensations: the chill seeping through the thin soles of her shoes, the weight of her braided hair, the faint. When the world became too much, anchor yourself to the simple, tangible things. The curl of a dead fern against the stone.
“They’re ready for you.”
Her grandmother's voice was a hushed echo, devoid of its usual edge. When Lexi turned, she saw the pinched look around her eyes. Not pity. Apprehension. Her grandmother, the perfect Lycan wife, was afraid of the scene her half-breed granddaughter might cause.
“Lovely,” Lexi said, her voice flat.
She didn’t take the offered arm. She walked into the chapel alone.
He was every inch the Alpha. Tall, imposing, his dark hair swept back. He wore a simple, tailored black shirt and trousers. No finery. This wasn’t a celebration for him. It was a transaction. His eyes, when they finally swung to her, were the color of a winter sky grey and just as warm. They swept over her black dress, her styled hair, her gold armour, and found nothing he wanted. A faint, almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw was his only greeting.
Lexi kept walking, her steps echoing in the hollow space. She took her place beside him, facing the ancient elder whose voice droned on about unity, strength, and sacred bonds. The words were ash in her mouth.
The words were ash in her mouth.
A sliver of movement caught her eye—a shift in the fractured light pouring through a shattered stained-glass window. A figure stood just beyond the crumbling archway, backlit by the dying sun so that she seemed haloed in gold dust and pollen. Honeysuckle, cloying and sweet, cut through the chapel’s decay.
Michael’s rigid posture didn’t change, but Lexi saw it—a minute fracture, a telltale flicker in his winter-grey eyes as they fixed on the silhouette. Bianca’s delicate hand rose, a pale flutter of fingers against the dark stone, a secret wave meant only for him. The elder’s droning words faltered as Michael’s promised vow died unfinished on his lips.
The elder’s voice, sharp as a cracked stone, cut through the fraught silence. “By blood and bond, I pronounce you joined,” he intoned, the words final and hollow.
Michael flinched as if struck, his gaze still tethered to the shadow in the archway.
A cold, sure knowledge settled in Lexi’s bones, solid as the gold cuff on her wrist.
A scattered, perfunctory applause rustled through the small assembly like dead leaves.
Then, a deeper silence fell, heavier than before, the vows now a chain around them both.
Then, a deeper silence fell, heavier than before, the vows now a chain around them both. I knew what came next, and so did Michael; it was the marking bite, a sign that I was his now. As soon as Michael’s hand cupped the back of my head, electricity sparked in us both, and when he tilted my head and lowered his mouth to my neck, the world slowed down. As soon as his teeth pierced my skin, a wave of energy rolled off me like the sun’s heat; it engulfed and lit the whole chapel in a sudden, silent golden radiance that made the elders gasp. Michael jerked back as if burned, his eyes wide and his lips stained, just as a sharp, shattered cry came from the archway where Bianca’s perfect, fragile mask finally broke.
Michael jerked back as if burned, his eyes wide and his lips stained, just as a sharp, shattered cry came from the archway where Bianca’s perfect, fragile mask finally broke. He wiped my blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, a violent, disgusted gesture, and refused to look at me, his shame a colder stone in the pit of my stomach than any chapel floor. I showed nothing, just stood there waiting in the ringing silence, the golden light fading back into dust motes, until the head elder’s shaky voice pronounced, “Wed and bound. Lexi is now Luna of the Blackwood Pack.” A delicate thud echoed from the archway as Bianca’s body folded gracefully to the ground, her faint so impeccably timed I almost admired the performance. Michael was moving before her head touched stone, concern etched deep into the hard lines of his face, his retreating back the first and only vow he’d ever truly keep.
Michael was moving before her head touched stone, concern etched deep into the hard lines of his face, his retreating back the first and only vow he’d ever truly keep.
I stood there in the silence, the feeling of being rejected yet again pushing down on my chest. I knew he didn’t want this, I knew he was forced as I was, but I’d… what? Hoped that at least he would pretend to honour me? What a fool you are, Lexi, my mind berated me as the pack and everyone in the chapel could clearly see his concern was for Bianca and most definitely not me. I felt dizzy from the blood loss and the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything all day from nerves, but I pushed through, walking calmly to my grandfather and grandmother and my cousin Lara, who was smiling at the fact that she’d escaped this humiliation herself. I nodded to them; that was the only goodbye they got. I turned, and Michael’s Beta came forward. Dante was a leaner, slightly younger version of Michael. He gestured with his hand for me to follow, and I did.
The gold armor felt like a cheap costume now, hollow and ridiculously heavy. My neck throbbed a hot, insistent rhythm beneath my palm. Dante walked a few paces ahead, his silence a louder condemnation than any muttered insult from the dispersing crowd. He held a heavy oak door open for me, not looking back, leading me out of the ruin and into the weak evening light. The path to the waiting car was just dirt and gravel, but it felt like the longest walk of my life.