Chapter 35
Kara
The ballroom is packed.
Every member of Silver Frost Pack seems to be crammed into this space, all dressed in their finest. The air is thick with mingled scents—hundreds of wolves in one enclosed area.
My enhanced senses are already overloaded.
My body is a mess of contradictions. Still terrified from Luna Victoria's venom. Still processing Blake's words, his touch, the way his hand felt on my ass.
Still trying to ignore the wetness between my thighs.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Then I see the stone.
Two Beta warriors carry it into the center of the ballroom, placing it carefully under the spotlight. It's massive—a slab of black obsidian, perfectly smooth, with the Silver Frost Pack emblem carved into its surface. A wolf's head, surrounded by intricate runes that seem to shimmer in the light.
The Power Stone.
"According to tradition," Marcus's voice carries across the silent crowd, "when the midnight bell tolls, the new Alphas must place their handprints on the Power Stone. Their scents will activate the emblem, officially transferring leadership."
I know what comes next.
The ceremony. The power transfer.
The moment these three become the official Alphas of Silver Frost Pack.
But then Asher speaks.
"We have a request."
Every head turns.
Marcus frowns. "What request?"
"Kara performs the ceremony with us." Blake's voice is loud. Clear. Unapologetic. "As our Luna."
The ballroom erupts in whispers.
No. No no no—
"This violates tradition!" Victoria's voice cuts through the noise like a knife. "The Power Marking is for Alphas only! You can't just—this is insane! You're going to let some debt slave whore put her filthy hands on—"
"Then let us start a new tradition." Cole's tone is gentle but immovable. Steel wrapped in silk. "Silver Frost Pack's future belongs to the four of us."
Marcus is silent for a long moment.
Then: "I agree."
Victoria spins to face him, her lily and cedar scent spiking cold with absolute fury. "You're going to allow this? You're going to let them make a mockery of—"
"I said I agree, Victoria." Marcus's voice carries finality. "The decision is made."
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god—
Asher's hand finds mine. His palm is hot, his grip firm. "Trust us," he murmurs, his ebony and tobacco scent wrapping around me. "Please."
I can't find words. Can't breathe. Can't think past the panic clawing at my throat.
And the traitorous heat pooling between my legs.
But my feet move anyway.
They guide me toward the obsidian slab, their bodies surrounding me. Protective. Possessive. Their combined scents making my head spin.
The stone is at hip height, requiring us to bend forward, face each other to place our hands simultaneously.
Asher positions himself at my right front, his blue eyes locked on mine. Blake at my left, that dangerous smirk playing at his lips. Cole steps behind me, his chest pressed to my back, arms coming around my waist to steady me.
The heat of Cole's body against mine makes my core clench. I can feel every inch of him—his chest, his abs, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against my lower back.
Oh fuck.
"I don't want—" My voice is barely a whisper.
"You're already part of us." Asher's words are firm but not unkind. "The pack needs to see it. Needs to smell it."
Cole's hands span my waist, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts through the thin fabric. It has to be accidental.
Right?
But the touch makes my nipples tighten painfully. Makes my thighs clench together.
The midnight bell begins to toll.
One.
They guide my hands to the stone.
Two.
Cold. So cold against my palms, a shocking contrast to the heat of the three bodies surrounding me.
Three.
Asher's hand covers my right hand. Blake's covers my left.
Four.
Cole's breath is hot against my neck, right over my scent glands.
My body shudders. Slick dampens my underwear.
Five.
"Together," Asher murmurs.
Six.
We press down.
Seven.
And the world explodes.
Three scents hit me at once—
Asher's ebony and tobacco crashes over me from the right, ancient and authoritative and utterly overwhelming. It fills my nose, my mouth, my lungs.
Blake's gunpowder erupts from the left, hot and violent and hungry. It makes my skin burn.
Cole's mint surrounds me from behind, clean and sharp and impossibly intense. It makes my head spin.
My white musk and snow tears out of me in response. I can feel it pouring from my neck glands, my wrists, every pore in my body. Can feel it mixing with theirs, reacting with theirs.
The obsidian beneath our hands starts to glow.
Silver-blue light spreads out from the carved emblem like veins, tracing the runes, following the paths of our combined scents. It's beautiful. Terrifying.
Wrong.
Above the stone, I can see it—see our scents made visible in swirling mist. Three distinct colors braiding together, and my white musk threading through them all, binding them into one unified whole.
"Perfect match," someone breathes. One of the old Lunas. "It's a fate mark..."
My legs give out.
Cole catches me, his arms tightening around my waist. But it doesn't help. Nothing helps.
Because the scents are too much.
The heat is too much.
My neck glands are burning, the unmarked skin screaming for their teeth, their bite, their claim. Every nerve ending in my throat is on fire, begging to be bitten.
My heart is trying to break through my ribs.
My core clenches with an emptiness so acute it borders on pain. I'm wet—so fucking wet—and I can feel it, can smell it mixing with my white musk scent.
They can smell it too.
Blake's fingers tighten on my hand. "Fuck," he growls, his voice barely human.
Eight.
Asher's eyes have gone completely gold. I can see him fighting for control, see the wolf trying to break free. His hand trembles where it covers mine.
Nine.
Cole buries his face in my neck, right above my glands. His tongue—oh god—his tongue drags over my skin. Just once. Just barely.
I moan.
The sound is small, breathy, humiliating. But I can't stop it.
"Hold on," Cole gasps against my throat. "Just hold on. Don't let go."
Ten.
Through the haze, I'm dimly aware of the pack. Of hundreds of wolves watching us. Smelling us. Witnessing the biological proof of our bond.
Smelling my arousal.
My shame.
My need.
Eleven.
Blake's breathing is ragged. "I'm going to bite you," he says, voice rough with barely contained violence. "Right fucking now. I'm going to—"
"No." Asher's Alpha command stops him. "Not yet. Not here."
Twelve.
The bell's final toll echoes.
The silver light flares one last time, then settles into a steady glow emanating from the Power Stone. The pack emblem blazes bright.
"Silver Frost Pack's new era begins." Marcus's voice seems to come from very far away.
The ceremony is over.
But I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't do anything except shake in Cole's arms while Asher and Blake press close on either side.
My vision blurs. My knees won't support me. My core is throbbing, empty, desperate.
If just touching a stone with them makes me almost pass out, my frantic mind whispers, what happens when they actually bite me? Mark me? Claim me?
What happens when they fuck me?
I'll die. I'll actually die.
"Breathe, Baby." Blake's mouth is against my ear, his gunpowder scent so thick I'm choking on it. "Just breathe. This is only the beginning."
Only the beginning.
The words should terrify me.
Instead, my treacherous body clenches with need. More slick dampens my thighs.
My wolf whines, pressing against my consciousness, begging me to tilt my head. Expose my throat. Let them finish what we started.
Bite me. Claim me. Fuck me. Please.
No. No. Not yet. Not until—
Cole lifts me into his arms. My head lolls against his shoulder, too weak to hold itself up.
Blake and Asher flank us as we leave the ballroom, their bodies close enough to brush mine with every step.