Chapter 2 The Alpha's Claim

Morning came far too soon. Aria’s eyes fluttered open as the pale light of dawn streamed through the tall windows. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the weight of the auction, the ride through unfamiliar lands, and the stifling dread of the future had stolen her strength. Now she lay in a bed far softer than anything she’d ever known, wrapped in a cocoon of expensive silk sheets that felt like chains around her body. She sat up slowly, instinctively scanning the room for threats. The fire had died sometime during the night, and the embers still smoldered faintly. A delicate silver tray rested on a small table near the window, holding a pot of tea, fruit, and something that smelled faintly like freshly baked bread. So… he intended to feed her. She hadn’t expected kindness. Not from Alpha Dominic Thorne. Not from the man she believed to be the butcher of her people. Still, her stomach growled, betraying her pride. Hunger had become a familiar ache over the years, and she would need her strength. Whatever plans she had for vengeance required patience. Endurance. Control. She poured the tea slowly, hands steady despite the rage simmering beneath her skin. A soft knock on the door interrupted her silence. Before she could answer, the door opened. Not a servant this time—but him. Dominic. He stepped inside without ceremony, his large frame filling the space like a storm cloud. He wore a black button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms crisscrossed with faint scars. His dark trousers were tailored, yet simple—no sign of royalty or arrogance in his clothing. Just power. His eyes found her instantly. She didn’t stand. He arched a brow. “I see you’re not the kind to bow.” “Should I?” she asked calmly, taking a slow sip of her tea. “You bought me, not my submission.” A flash of something crossed his face—amusement, perhaps? Or warning. He walked farther into the room, stopping just before her table. “You’re bold for someone in your position.” “I’m not in any position,” she replied, setting her cup down. “I didn’t choose this.” “No,” he agreed. “But here you are.” The tension between them was thick—like the calm before a violent storm. Aria met his gaze without wavering, though her heart pounded a little harder in her chest. He hadn’t touched her. Hadn’t even approached her during the night. It had thrown her off. She’d expected a claim, a mark, a forced bond. He had done none of it. Why? “I didn’t claim you last night,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Do you know why?” Aria’s jaw tightened. “Because you prefer torture first?” He let out a low laugh. It was the first real emotion she’d heard from him, and it unsettled her. “No,” he said. “Because a true bond should never begin with force. I want your submission… but I want it given.” She stood slowly, pushing back her chair. “Then you’ll be waiting a long time.” “I have time,” he said, stepping closer. “But you don’t.” “What does that mean?” Dominic didn’t answer. He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a folded letter, sealed with a red wax crest. “The Council wants you marked within seven days. If not, they have the authority to redistribute you to another Alpha. One who won’t be so patient.” She froze. He stepped close enough for her to smell the sharp, woodsy scent of his cologne. Not overpowering—just enough to leave a mark on her senses. “I may be a monster,” he said quietly, “but I’m your best option.” Aria’s fingers clenched into fists at her sides. She wanted to scream. To throw the tray across the room. To claw his face and damn the consequences. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t let them win. “I don’t want to be claimed,” she whispered. His eyes darkened. “Then convince the Council. Or convince me.” With that, he turned and walked out, leaving her alone again—with tea that had gone cold and a fire rekindled in her chest. --- The estate was a labyrinth of ancient stone corridors, hidden staircases, and looming portraits that watched with cold eyes. That afternoon, Aria wandered under the pretense of exploring, but her mind was racing. She needed to find answers. About Dominic. About what happened to her family. About the truth of her bloodline. If there was even a chance she was descended from the Moon Blessed, then she had to find proof. It would give her leverage—possibly even protection. The Moon Blessed were said to be sacred, the children of the first Luna, gifted with rare power. Her mother had whispered the stories to her at night… before everything burned. She turned a corner and nearly slammed into a tall, red-haired woman carrying a stack of scrolls. “Oh—sorry!” the woman exclaimed, then paused when she saw Aria. “Wait. You must be…” Aria smiled faintly. “The new acquisition?” The woman flushed. “No—I mean, yes—but I didn’t mean it like that. I’m Mira. I run the library.” Aria perked up. “Library?” Mira nodded. “Yes. The Alpha has an extensive private collection. Mostly political treaties and war records, but also… history.” Aria’s pulse quickened. “Can I see it?” Mira hesitated. “Technically it’s restricted, but…” She glanced over her shoulder, then leaned in. “I think you could use a distraction. Follow me.” Aria followed her through two winding staircases until they reached a narrow door behind an oil painting. Mira opened it with a key and led her into a breathtaking space—shelves upon shelves of ancient books, scrolls, and tomes, many of which glowed faintly with protective enchantments. Aria inhaled deeply. This was what she needed. “There’s a section over there on bloodlines and divine ancestry,” Mira said, pointing. “Don’t let anyone catch you reading them. Especially not the Council.” “Why?” “Because they burned most of them decades ago. What’s left is… sensitive.” Aria offered a grateful smile. “Thank you.” As Mira left her alone, Aria walked slowly to the section and began scanning titles. “Luna’s Lineage.” “The Blood of Stars.” “Daughters of the Moon.” She pulled a leather-bound book from the shelf and opened it, her fingers trembling. Inside were hand-drawn genealogies, notes, and theories about the Moon Blessed line. One passage caught her eye: “The Moon’s chosen are always marked by three traits: silver-threaded hair under moonlight, dreams of fire and prophecy, and the ability to resist the mating bond.” Aria’s breath caught. She’d had all three. As a child, her hair shimmered silver in the full moon. Her dreams had always been strange, filled with fire and distant voices. And now… even after standing so close to Dominic, the mate bond hadn’t snapped into place. Not fully. She wasn’t just special. She was dangerous. And Dominic might already know. --- That night, she returned to her room to find a gift box on her bed. Inside was a gown of midnight velvet and silver embroidery, clearly tailored to her shape. Beside it, a note written in elegant script: “Dinner. One hour. Wear it.” —D. She wanted to ignore him. But she also wanted answers. And so, she dressed. The dining hall was dark and silent except for the flicker of candlelight. Dominic sat at the head of a long black-wood table, a crystal decanter beside him. He stood when she entered. “You look like a queen,” he said, voice low. “I’m not yours,” she replied. “Yet.” He offered her a seat. She took it—because she had to play his game to win. Dinner passed in tense silence until she finally spoke. “Why did you bid on me?” His eyes met hers, calm and unreadable. “Because you were the only one in that room who wasn’t afraid of me.” “And that interested you?” “No. It challenged me.” She looked down at her plate. “What do you want from me, Dominic?” He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he poured her wine and leaned back in his chair. “I want what every Alpha wants. Loyalty. Strength beside me. A Luna who won’t break under pressure.” “And what if I break you instead?” His lips curved into a dark smile. “Then maybe you were meant to be my queen after all.” ---