Chapter 6 Fix Yourself
Lyra's POV
"Fix yourself," he said coldly, not even looking at me as he spoke. "You reek of lone wolf. It's pathetic."
The accusation was a deliberate lie designed to wound. I'd been marked by him years ago. There was no lone wolf scent on me, and we both knew it.
"He's lying," my wolf whimpered. "We don't smell like lone wolf. He's just trying to hurt us."
"I know," I whispered back. "But we have to go back. We have to finish this charade."
The walk back to the house felt endless. I could still taste him, still feel the weight of his contempt like a physical thing pressing down on my shoulders. My carefully applied lipstick was smudged beyond repair, and my hair had come loose from its elegant updo.
When we rejoined the family gathering, I kept my head down and hoped no one would look too closely. But Clara's maternal instincts were too sharp to fool.
I saw her gaze take in my disheveled appearance, the obvious signs of what had happened between her son and me. Instead of disapproval, her cheeks flushed with what looked suspiciously like pleased embarrassment.
"Oh my, I do believe we'll be welcoming wolf pups to the Blackthorne family very soon."
Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized what she meant. Dorian's scent still clung to my skin, obvious to any wolf with functioning senses.
"She thinks he loves us," my wolf observed sadly. "She thinks this means something good."
"Let her think that," I replied wearily. "At least someone in this family believes in happy endings."
If only they knew this bond has a termination date, my wolf said bitterly.
Unlike typical mates in our world, our trial bond gave us the appearance of a mated pair but without the permanent soul-binding of a true mate bond. However, Dorian had never mentioned undergoing the full mating ritual with me. Four years, until Owen stepped down as Alpha, and then we could dissolve it through mutual rejection.
Owen approached with his characteristic warmth. "How are you feeling, my dear? You look a bit pale."
"Before I leave this world," Clara said softly, "I hope to witness new life in the Silver Moon pack. The Blackthorne legacy must continue, and I believe..." She glanced meaningfully at my neck. "Perhaps sooner than we think."
My throat tightened at their innocent assumptions. These people genuinely cared for me, treated me like family. The weight of our impending Reject ritual felt crushing.
"Perhaps there will be pups soon," Dorian's voice came from behind me.
I turned, expecting to meet his gaze, but his amber eyes weren't focused on me at all. Instead, he was looking toward the entrance, where a familiar figure had just appeared.
Seraphina Crimson stood framed in the doorway, her golden hair catching the torchlight like spun silk. She wore a form-fitting emerald dress that complemented her eyes perfectly.
Clara said. "I wasn't aware we were expecting additional guests tonight."
Owen appeared beside his wife. "Miss Crimson," he said formally. "I don't recall extending an invitation."
Clara and Owen were the couple in the entire pack who disliked Seraphina the most.
Seraphina's smile never wavered. "Dorian invited me personally. Didn't you, darling?"
All eyes turned to Dorian, who straightened slightly. "Of course," he said smoothly. "Seraphina has always been welcome in Blackthorne territory."
The tension radiating from Clara and Owen was palpable, though they were too polite to contradict their son publicly.
"How... thoughtful," Clara said. "Though perhaps next time, advance notice would be appreciated."
Dorian moved toward Seraphina without acknowledging his mother's subtle rebuke. "Let me show you to the refreshment table," he said, offering her his arm.
As they walked away together, Owen's weathered hand squeezed mine gently.
"Pay her no mind, dear," he whispered. "Some wolves are always hunting for scraps from another's table. You're the one who truly belongs here."
Clara nodded emphatically. "Speaking of belonging, we should celebrate your scholarship renewal early. Dr. Lunaris sent word that your research was exceptional."
"Congratulations," Owen added. "Your medical talents continue to impress everyone."
More guests began arriving, and the gathering shifted into full social mode. Conversations t urned to business ventures, academic achievements, and pack politics.
As I accepted a sincere congratulation from an elder pack member, a flash of movement near the service entrance caught my attention. A woman in staff clothing was leaving quickly through a side door, but something about her profile seemed familiar.
My wolf's senses sharpened instantly. That scent...
I inhaled deeply, sorting through the complex mixture of aromas in the crowded hall. Cedar smoke, expensive perfumes, leather, wine... and something else. Something medicinal. Antiseptic.
Dr. Blackwood.
The realization hit me like ice water. The woman who had accused me of bribery, who had held my mother's necklace like evidence of my guilt, was here. At a private Blackthorne family gathering.
Why is she here? my wolf demanded, her hunting instincts flaring to life. She's supposed to have left town!
Without thinking, I began moving toward the service entrance. I slipped away from the gathering, following the faint trail of antiseptic scent toward the estate's rear gardens. The full moon cast everything in silver light, and my wolf surged forward, demanding more access to our shared senses.
Let me out, she begged. We need to shift. We need to hunt.
The scent trail was growing fainter, dispersing in the night air. In human form, I would lose it completely within minutes. But if I shifted...
Do it, my wolf urged. Find the truth.
My bones began to shift before I'd consciously made the decision.
Hunt, my wolf commanded as we began our transformation, the world sharpening into brilliant clarity around us.