Chapter 5
- Jaxon's POV
- The heavy iron doors of the grand chapel flew open with a loud, echoing boom.
- Inside, hundreds of high-society Alphas and Betas from across the Northern Empire sat in the carved stone pews, dressed in formal black velvet and heavy furs. At the far end of the long aisle, standing before the giant stone statue of the Moon Goddess, was the High Priest, an ancient, blind Alpha whose scent was so thick with age and power it made the air taste like ash.
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- The moment our boots hit the stone aisle, hundreds of heads turned toward us.
- I felt the girl stiffen beside me, but she surprised me. She didn't look down. She didn't look weak. She walked with her head held high, perfectly mimicking the haughty stride of Vivienne Moretti. I matched her pace, keeping my stride slow, powerful, and utterly confident. I used my massive frame to absorb the intense, heavy glares of the suspicious elders. Every eye in the room was searching for a flaw, a single crack in the armor of the legendary Moretti heiress.
- We reached the altar. The blind High Priest turned his clouded, white eyes toward us, his nose flaring as he took a deep, rattling breath of the air.
- “Alpha Jaxon of the Ravencroft Pack,” the priest’s voice boomed through the silent chapel like grinding stones. “And Lady Vivienne of the Moretti Dynasty. You come before the Goddess to bind your packs, your blood, and your borders. Do you come willingly?” “I do,” I answered, my voice firm and absolute, echoing off the stone walls.
- The priest turned his blind face toward the girl. The raw power radiating from his ancient body felt like a physical weight, testing her. But the elixir inside her fought back beautifully, pushing out a heavy wave of arrogant Alpha dominance that actually made the priest’s eyebrows twitch in surprise.
- “And you, Lady Vivienne?” the priest asked, his voice narrowing with a trace of lingering suspicion. “Do you swear your blood to the northern pack?”
- She looked straight into those blind, terrifying eyes. “I do,” she said, forcing the haughty, cold tone of a royal heiress to echo through the chapel.
- The crowd of elders murmured, seemingly satisfied by the pure strength of the scent rolling off her skin. I could feel her taking a tiny, invisible sigh of relief beside me. She thought the hard part was over.
- “Then let the blood verification begin,” the High Priest announced, raising a long, ancient silver dagger.
- I saw her posture go rigid.
- The priest handed the dagger to me. “Alpha, take the blood of your bride. Taste the purity of the Moretti line, and let the Goddess seal the bond.”
- I turned to face her. I took the silver dagger, my eyes locking onto hers with a terrifying intensity. Stepping closer, I used my massive frame to completely shield her from the sight of the audience behind us.
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- I raised my left hand, my fingers slipping into her hair, tilting her head back to expose the bare, white skin of her neck, right over her delicate scent gland.
- “Be still, little bird,” I whispered, so softly that only she could hear.
- She closed her eyes, her entire body shaking as she felt the cold, sharp edge of my fangs press directly against her skin. The scent of dark wood and winter danger filled the space between us.
- I bit down.
- A sharp gasp escaped her lips as my teeth punctured her skin. I drew her blood into my mouth, my tongue brushing against the wound as her pulse throbbed wildly against my lips.
- For three agonizing seconds, I expected to taste the bitter, chemical artificiality of the amber elixir mixed with the ordinary blood of a street Omega.
- Instead, the moment her blood hit my tongue, my entire world shattered.
- My body went completely stiff against hers. My grip on her hair tightened until it hurt, and a massive, violent shudder ran through my entire frame. A white-hot jolt of primal lightning slammed into my chest, straight through to my soul. The amber elixir had masked her rank, but it couldn't mask the cosmic truth of her biology. Her blood didn't taste like an Alpha. It didn't taste like Vivienne. It tasted like absolute perfection. It tasted like the other half of my soul.
- “Fated Mate.”
- The golden light in my eyes snapped out instantly, replaced by a deep, terrifying, pitch black as my inner wolf completely took over the reins. The beast inside me roared in absolute, possessive fury, demanding I tear her clothes off and mark her fully right here on the altar.
- I pulled my head back slowly, my chest heaving as if I had just been hit by an avalanche. My blood was smeared across my lower lip. I stared down at her terrified face, my mind racing in absolute chaos. She wasn't a stray dog. She wasn't a placeholder. She was “mine”.
- “Alpha Jaxon?” the High Priest asked, his blind eyes narrowing as he sensed the sudden, violent shift in the room's energy. “Does the blood ring true? Is she your lawful Alpha bride?”
- I didn't answer immediately. I kept my pitch-black eyes locked onto her trembling form, my breath coming in hot, ragged gasps. If I spoke the truth, the alliance failed and war began. If I lied, I was bringing a rogue Omega into the heart of the empire as my Luna.
- The entire chapel grew completely still, the silence heavy enough to shatter as hundreds of Alphas realized something was terribly wrong. I heard the faint, terrifying metallic scrape of hands beginning to slide toward the silver swords at their waists.
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- I slowly wiped the blood from my lip with the back of my hand, my eyes never leaving her terrified face.
- “The blood is pure,” I lied to the priest, my voice dropping into a frustratingly dark, gravelly register that made the entire front row of elders flinch. I grabbed her waist, pulling her body flush against mine with a possessive, crushing force that told her, and the world, she belonged to me. “She is my bride. And anyone who questions her rank will answer to my claws.”