Chapter 28 The Demonstration (1)
Aurelia
Exactly one hour after Zhayad left with the scout who'd come to inform him the Shifters Court was demanding for him, a knock on the door speared through my thoughts.
It was a maid, and she wasted no time in delivering her message haughtily.
“Alpha Zhayad requests your presence in the council chambers, Luna.”
The ‘Luna’ sounded like a taunt. Zhayad had asked every single shifter in the pack, every staff in the pack-house to call me Luna or risk banishment.
The words landed like a summons to execution. I wanted to hurl myself through the nearest window, plummet down and disappear.
Instead I started to dress up quickly, the emerald gown I picked hugging every curve, the neckline plunging to frame the glowing heart of Luna in full, shameless display.
I wondered what Zhayad would do about it.
The heavy double doors of the council chamber groaned open, and every head snapped toward me.
Fifteen pairs of eyes, shifters of rank, grizzled warriors, and silver-haired elders locked on the silver vines curling around my breasts, the crescent moons spiraling over my nipples, the perfect heart pulsing above the cleft.
Maybe this had been such a reckless idea. No. A bad idea.
The air thickened and pulsed with tension. I saw the way the males flared their nostrils, the way their fists clenched on the long obsidian table.
I also heard the low, collective growl that rolled through the room.
Zhayad stood at the head of the table. His gaze devoured me in one searing sweep, possessive, furious, and protective.
I could feel the bond snap taut: he wanted to haul me out of here and throw me over his shoulder so he could shield me from every stare that lingered one heartbeat too long.
I barely crossed the threshold before a brunette she-wolf shot to her feet. Tall, sharp-featured, with her dark hair pulled into a severe braid, she looked like a shifter who knew how to hold her own.
Her voice cut the air like a blade. “I refuse to believe the Moon Goddess marked her.”
She jabbed a finger toward me without looking away from Zhayad.
“Her father conquered the Bronzemoon pack mere hours ago. He stole the Staff of the Pack. It’s in his hands now, and it has made him stronger than any warlock alive.”
The room erupted, murmurs rising to snarls, chairs scraping back, doubtful eyes flicking between me and Zhayad.
The brunette pressed on, her voice ringing. “How can we accept a Luna whose bloodline just crushed one of the greatest packs? The Goddess would never choose the daughter of a murderer to wear Her heart.”
Zhayad’s growl silenced the room like a whip crack. He stepped forward, placing himself half in front of me, his broad shoulders blocking half the table’s view.
“The mark is real,” he said, each word carved from stone. “I felt it ignite. I saw it. The pack felt it. I'm sure you all felt it the moment she came undone in my arms.”
A few elders shifted uncomfortably, and the brunette’s lip curled.
“That proves nothing except that she’s fertile and willing. The Goddess does not bless the spawn of Cassian Varkis.”
Zhayad’s hand shot out, gripping the edge of the table so hard the obsidian groaned.
“Speak of my mate that way again,” he said quietly, “and I will rip your tongue out and feed it to the crows while your body still twitches.”
The brunette paled but didn’t back down. “Then prove it isn’t a trick, Alpha Zhayad. Let us see the mark up close. Let us test its light. If it’s genuine, we bow. If it’s warlock deception—”
“You question the moon goddess's choice?” Zhayad's voice promised danger and violence.
The brunette faltered, only for a heartbeat, then lifted her chin.
“I question the timing. The mark appears the very night Cassian Varkis resurfaces and slaughters another pack. Coincidence?”
Low growls answered her.
“We just want proof.” She finished.
Zhayad’s laugh was cold, mirthless, and edged with bloody murder.
“You want proof?”
The brunette’s eyes glittered with triumph. She had just handed him the perfect trap: humiliate me publicly, strip me bare in front of the entire council, and watch the mark either glow or not.
Either way, she won. If the glow disappeared, I was a fraud.
If it glowed… well, they still got to watch their Alpha fuck his warlock-blooded mate in front of witnesses.
My stomach twisted. The only undeniable proof was orgasm because the mark flared brightest when pleasure peaked.
And Zhayad knew it. The look he shot me was pure, possessive violence: he hated that they were forcing his hand, hated that they would see me like this, but he would burn the room down before he let them call him a liar.
“Then we’ll give you proof,” he said, his voice flat and final.
A male shifter rose. He was broad, grizzled, and seemed to be one of the court’s youngest voices.
The brunette sat back down, her lips curling in scornful satisfaction.
“Before you begin,” the male said, “I want the pack matron present. I want your most trusted inner circle here. They deserve to witness whether this mark is divine… or deception.”
Zhayad’s eyes flashed with unrestrained fury and violence.
The air in the chamber thickened with tension, several shifters shifting uncomfortably in their seats.
They weren’t asking for witnesses. They were demanding a full audience. Maximum humiliation. Zhayad fucking me on the council table while the matron, the elders, the inner circle, and half the high-ranking pack watched.
They wanted the screams to echo through the halls.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood. My life kept twisting into darker, more public knots.
Zhayad turned to me slowly. His gaze raked over my body: the plunging emerald neckline already displaying the glowing heart, the vines that swirled around my nipples, the way the mark pulsed brighter every time his eyes lingered.
He stepped closer, close enough that I felt his heat through the gown.
His voice dropped to a lethal whisper meant only for me.
“They think they can shame you.”
His thumb brushed the underside of my breast, right along a silver vine.
The mark flared instantly, silver light spilling across the table.
Several council members hissed in sharp intake of breath.
“They’re wrong.”
He turned back to the room, his voice ringing clear in the now grave silence that had enveloped everyone.
“Summon the matron. Summon the inner circle. Summon whoever you need.”
He looked straight at the brunette.
“But understand this: once the doors close, anyone who speaks against her mark again leaves this chamber in pieces.”
Silence crashed down loudly. It was absolute, suffocating. The brunette’s smirk vanished, while the grizzled male swallowed visibly.
Zhayad pulled me against his side, his chest to my back, his arm banding around my waist so the glowing heart sat directly over his forearm like a crown.
“You want a demonstration?” he said to the council, his voice dangerously soft. “You’ll get one.”