The mate selection ceremony was held beneath the full moon, the clearing transformed with torches and fresh picked wild flower. But Veylan was not participating.
One by one, the eligible females presented themselves, each hoping to catch the eye of the silver wolf. One by one, Veylan shook his head, his expression hard as stone, his refusal absolute. No words, no hesitation, just a single gesture of denial that crushed hopes before they could fully bloom.
By the tenth rejection, the crowd had grown restless. By the fifteenth, whispers spread like wildfire. By the twentieth, Veylan turned on his heel and walked from the clearing, his back straight, his refusal complete.
I watched him go, my heart heavy with a strange ache. He would rather be alone than bound to any here. Rather die a lone wolf than accept a mate not of his choosing.
The celebration continued without him. Rhonda glowed beside her new mate, the blacksmith panther with arms like tree trunks, their hands intertwined as they accepted blessings from the elders. Layla had chosen too; a horse beast man with golden hair and gentle eyes. But it was the way Layla’s gaze kept drifting downward, to the impressive bulge between his thighs, that made Rhonda and me exchange knowing glances. We understood exactly why she had chosen him, and it had little to do with his personality.
We were laughing, Rhonda making crude gestures behind her hand, when the howl split the night.
It came from the direction of the stream; a sound of agony and fury that made every celebration fall silent. The howl rose and fell, desperate, animal, wrong.
Everyone ran.
We reached the stream’s edge and I saw him; Veylan in his full wolf form, silver fur gleaming in the moonlight, but his movements were wrong. He paced back and forth, muscles rippling beneath his skin, his head tossing, foam dripping from his jaws. He was majestic, yes, but also terrifying, also suffering.
And Rina stood near him, just outside his reach, her expression a mixture of triumph and frustration.
Fear entered my eyes, cold and sharp.
"She used moonrut sap on him," Soryn whispered, his serpent body rigid beside me, his nostrils flaring as he tasted the air.
"What’s that?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
Soryn’s forked tongue flickered, his expression grim. "It invokes a mating instinct, an unbearable heat that makes the beast inside desperately search for release. If he doesn’t mate..." He paused, his scales bristling. "The toxin becomes a burning poison that enters his blood and attacks his heart. Dark veins spread beneath his skin. His breathing weakens. His wolf begins tearing apart his body from within as it tries to force a shift." He looked at me, his eyes knowing. "Within one night, he could die."
I stared at Veylan, at the way he trembled, at the foam on his muzzle, at the madness in his silver eyes.
"She must have thought she could force him to mate with her," Soryn continued, his voice thick with disgust. "But Veylan is a warrior. He won’t submit if he doesn’t want you. He would rather die."
"So we just let him die?" I asked, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.
"He wants none of the village girls," Ravin said, his own hands clenched, his jaw tight with helpless rage. "He refused them all."
"Mate with me, Veylan, or you’ll die!" Rina called out, stepping closer, her arm extended, her wrist bared. "I can save you! Just submit!"
"No!" Veylan’s growl was guttural, barely human, his wolf form lunging toward her before catching himself, before forcing himself back. "Never... you..."
"You went too far, Rina!" Leon shouted, stepping forward, his lion form bristling. "That’s against the beast gods’ mating ritual! Poison cannot create true bonds!"
"He was supposed to be mine!" Rina screamed back, her composure cracking, her desperation showing. "I was only trying to make him see the truth! The bond would have been real once he accepted me!"
But Veylan was pacing again, his steps faltering, his breathing labored. I could see it now; the dark veins Soryn had mentioned, spidering beneath his silver fur, spreading toward his heart.
He shouldn’t die. It wasn’t right. He had saved Ravin, saved our village, worked tirelessly to protect us. He was good and honorable and proud, and he did not deserve to be murdered by Rina’s obsession.
And he had refused every female... except me...I hadn’t put myself up for a new mate, I should offer myself, maybe he would accept me, maybe a possibility.
I started walking toward him.
"Where are you going?" Ravin asked, his hand catching my arm.
I turned to my mate, my first mate, my heart. "Ravin, he’s a good beast. I can’t let him die. He saved you. He saved our village." I looked at Veylan, at his suffering, at his pride even now refusing to break. "He refused everyone so far... except me I wasn’t among the rejected. Let me try."
Ravin’s golden eyes searched mine, finding certainty, finding resolve. He must have thought it was the best option too, because slowly, reluctantly, he let me go.
I walked toward Veylan, my wrist outstretched, my heart hammering against my ribs. The wolf stilled, watching me approach, his nostrils flaring, his chest heaving.
"Veylan," I said softly, stopping just out of reach. "You’ll die. You have to find a mate." I swallowed hard, my voice steady despite my fear. "I might not be your ideal mate. But I promise you... you will never have to do anything you don’t want. I would never demand or force you. So let me help you."
Veylan looked at me, his silver eyes clearing for just a moment, just a heartbeat, recognition and gratitude and something else warring in their depths.
I turned to Ravin, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I must bond with him where no one can see. Please. No one can see my blue bind."
Ravin understood immediately. He moved to Veylan, supporting the trembling wolf, guiding him toward our home. The crowd parted for us, confused, murmuring, but I didn’t care. I could feel the eyes on my back, Rina’s hatred, the village’s confusion, but none of it mattered.
The moment we got inside, the door barely closed, Veylan shifted; not to his man form, but to something between, his body contorted, his eyes wild. He rushed to me, and I offered my wrist, a promise of a life time mate.
He bit down.
I cried out as his teeth pierced my skin, as pain lanced through my arm, as the blue light erupted from my mark, enveloping us both in a cocoon of radiance. The bond snapped into place, magic weaving between us, tying our fates together.
We were mated.
But the poison was still active. I could see it in the way he trembled, in the dark veins still spreading, in the heat radiating from his skin. He had to mate. Fully. Completely. The bond alone was not enough.
I took him to my room, past the sleeping cubs, and turned to my other mates who had followed, who stood in the doorway with worried eyes and clenched jaws.
"I need to help him," I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands. "Please understand."
I closed the door.
Veylan stood in the center of the room, his body caught between forms, between sanity and madness, between life and death. He looked at me, fighting within himself, his eyes pleading for mercy, for release, for salvation.
I watched him, my heart breaking and hoping all at once.
Okay, I thought. Let’s do this.
And I stripped.
There was no tenderness in him, The Veylan everyone knew, the proud warrior with silver eyes and careful hands, had been consumed by the moonrut’s corruption. What remained was pure animal instinct, desperate need, the biological imperative to mate or die.
He pulled me to the bed with a force that made me stumble, his grip iron-hard on my wrist. I barely had time to turn, to brace my hands against the mattress, before he pushed me forward, bending me over, my face pressed into the furs. I tried to speak, to prepare myself, to breathe—
He shoved himself inside me.
I screamed.
There was no warning, no gentle stretch, no time for my body to adjust to his size. He was large, larger than I had realized, thick and hard and relentless, and he buried himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust, his hips flush against mine, his balls slapping against my skin. The invasion was devastating, tearing, a burning stretch that made my vision blur with tears.
I cried out again, my fingers clawing at the bedding, my back arching involuntarily against the pain. There was no foreplay, no preparation, no wetness to ease his way; just raw, desperate rutting, the poison driving him to claim, to take, to empty himself before the toxin destroyed him.
His grip on my waist was bruising, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave marks, holding me in place as he pulled back and thrust again, and again, each stroke punishing, deep, hitting places inside me that made me see stars from pain rather than pleasure. I could feel him everywhere, too much, too big, too hard, splitting me open with every savage stroke.
Tears streamed down my face, wetting the furs beneath my cheek. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t pleasurable. It was agony, endurance, sacrifice. But I knew; I kept telling myself; it wasn’t him. Not truly. The Veylan who had saved Ravin, who had been kind to my cubs, who had looked at me with respect, would never hurt me like this. This was the moonrut sap, the poison, the desperate animal fighting for survival.
His thrusts slowed, became harder, more deliberate, each one grinding against my cervix, making me whimper and sob. I felt him swell inside me, felt the tension in his body reach breaking point. Then a growl ripped from his throat, inhuman and guttural, and he slammed deep one final time, spilling inside me with hot, endless pulses that filled me to overflowing.
I collapsed forward, shaking, expecting him to pull out, to be done, to let me recover.
He wasn’t finished.
Before I could even catch my breath, before his seed had stopped dripping down my thighs, he was moving again, still hard, still desperate, pulling back and thrusting back into my sore, abused channel. I screamed into the mattress, my body protesting, my mind reeling.
He took me again, just as savagely at first, his stamina inhuman, driven by the poison’s demand for more, more, more. But then something shifted. His seed from before had coated my channel, slick and warm, easing his way where before there had been only resistance. The thrusts were still relentless, still punishing, but as he moved, as my body adjusted to his size, to his rhythm, to the desperate need driving him, the pain began to blur into something else.
I felt myself growing wet around him, not from desire but from biology, from his cum lubricating me, preparing me, making space where there had been none. His thrusts found a rhythm that hit something inside me, some spot that made my breath hitch for a different reason, made my toes curl despite my tears.
"Oh gods," I gasped, my fingers clutching the bedding, my back arching not away from him but toward him, meeting his strokes, taking him deeper.
He felt it too, felt the change in me, felt my body surrendering to the act even as my mind reeled. His growl became something else, less animal desperation and more possessive hunger. He pounded into me with ferocity that made the bed frame creak, his fingers bruising my hips, his teeth finding my shoulder and biting down hard enough to draw blood, but now I was rising with him, climbing toward something sharp and bright.
When I came, it was sudden and overwhelming, my body convulsing around him, my inner walls clamping down in rhythmic spasms that dragged a howl from his throat. He followed me over the edge, his release hot and endless, spilling inside me until I felt full to bursting, until we were both shuddering, shaking, collapsing together in a tangle of limbs and sweat and seed.
Then silence.
I felt him still inside me, felt the moment the poison released its hold, felt the tension drain from his muscles as awareness returned. He scrambled backward, pulling out of me with a wet sound that made me wince, and threw himself into the corner of the room as if the walls could punish him, as if distance could undo what he had done.
"I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice broken, human again, devastated. "So sorry. What have I done. What have I done to you."
I tried to get up, to sit, to speak, but my body betrayed me. I winced, crying out softly at the throbbing, burning ache between my legs, at the bruises on my hips, at the bite mark on my shoulder. I felt used, torn, marked by him in ways that would take days to heal.
Veylan saw me wince, saw the pain I couldn’t hide, and the sound that came from him was pure anguish. He rushed back to me, falling to his knees, his hands trembling as he reached for me then pulled back, afraid to touch, afraid to cause more hurt.
He bowed until his forehead pressed against my feet, his silver hair spilling over my toes, his shoulders shaking with sobs. "Forgive me," he begged, his voice muffled, desperate, destroyed. "Please, Krys. Please forgive me. I would rather have died. I would rather the poison had taken me. I would rather anything than have hurt you. Please. Please forgive me."
I looked down at him, this proud warrior reduced to begging at my feet, and I his anguish. He hadn’t meant to hurt me and I knew that. So what was there to forgive? "It’s okay. Veylan, you’re okay now."