Chapter One
King Alaric
There is no lonelier place than a throne during a mating ceremony. The crown has never felt heavier than it does tonight.
I sigh as I grip the armrests of my throne, watching all of the excited people gathered around for the Lunaris Vinculum, the sacred night of the binding.
I glance up at the full moon, silently cursing it under my breath. It feels merciless tonight as it casts the town square in rays of silver.
Every wolf in the kingdom can feel it. A full moon is an energizing event for a wolf shifter. It electrifies their bones and tingles their skin. It feeds their inner wolves and makes them feel unstoppable.
Normally.
I look inward, searching for my wolf. Still nothing.
This is becoming a problem.
All eyes snap to me as I rise from my throne in the courtyard and clear my throat.
A thousand people drop to their knees and bow their heads.
Complete silence.
“True mates,” I bellow. “Present yourselves.”
Excitement and merriment explode through the courtyard as everyone jumps to their feet, laughing, cheering, and parting the crowd to make way for the couples racing through. The wolves circling the outer edges of the crowd throw back their heads and howl.
I stand at the edge of the raised dais, my hands clasped behind my back, my golden crown digging into my temples as I watch with a lump in my throat.
The couples look so happy as they approach, holding hands, unable to look away from each other’s eyes. The air is thick with anticipation. With heat. Withneed.
They line up in front of the dais, looking up at me with bright eyes and restless energy.
About three dozen couples tonight. Some young—these are the lucky ones, who will spend their whole adult lives with their fated mate—and some older—these ones having waited years, even decades, for this night.
But they all look ecstatic. The wait is almost over.
In the wolf kingdoms, there is no claiming and no sex until the mark is placed.
It is the oldest law we have.
It’s sacred.
These eager lovers have waited a moon cycle for this. Some have just experienced thirty long nights of aching carnal hunger, which will finally be quenched tonight.
The excitement in their eyes is palpable. They’re buzzing with anticipation.
Sex hangs in the air like smoke. Like something sweet and dangerous and just out of reach. Wolves don’t hide desire well. I can smell it on them. Taste it.
After this ceremony, these fortunate couples will disappear for days.
Weeks, sometimes.
They’ll be locked together in an endless mating marathon.
Friends and family members will leave food and drink outside their door. It’s rare, but some rutting mates have died in the past, never emerging from their den, having starved or died of exhaustion or thirst. That’s how consuming the first mating process is for us wolves.
And that’s what these lucky couples will be experiencing tonight.
