Chapter 58: Stealing your bride

By nightfall, the gates of the estate opened to the arrival of several luxury cars trailing in a long convoy.

The main foyer was flooded with Dorian’s maternal and paternal relatives, a dense, chaotic crowd of aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Among them were the prominent elders: Uncle Conrad, Uncle Devon, Aunt Sage, and Aunt Morgana.

Alyssa stood frozen beside Dorian in the center of the living room, her small hand swallowed by his tight, protective grip. The sheer volume of the lycans entering the mansion was deafening, their powerful, dominant scents clashing in the air as they bickered and called out to one another.

Sensing the sudden spike in her anxiety, Dorian lifted their joined hands to his lips. He pressed a firm kiss against her knuckles, his eyes burning with a quiet intensity.

"They are a loud breed," he murmured, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest. "But you do not need to be nervous, little lamb. I am right here."

Alyssa forced a breath into her lungs, highly doubting his optimism. Conri’s venomous rejection earlier still had her terrified; she didn’t want to let her guard down, only to be sliced to pieces by the judgmental stares of his other family.

"What if they don’t accept me?" she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the noise. "What if they see exactly what your Uncle Conri saw?"

"They will love you," Dorian promised. "Trust me."

She managed a tight nod, quickly masking her fear as the entourage filed into the room.

Suddenly, two young pups broke from the crowd, running full tilt toward them. "Uncle Dorian!" they chorused in high-pitched, energetic squeals.

Dorian released Alyssa’s hand just long enough to scoop them up, catching them effortlessly against his broad chest. A genuine, rumbling laugh escaped him as they babbled in his ears.

Alyssa watched, momentarily spellbound. She had heard Dorian laugh before, the low, wicked sound he reserved purely for her in the dark of their bedroom, but seeing him with his family revealed a side of him she hadn’t anticipated. Beneath the ruthless King was a man who clearly adored his little cousins.

But the moment the children were ushered away by the older cousins, the warmth vanished from Dorian’s face.

He straightened, slipping his arm back around Alyssa’s waist and pulling her close. His expression hardened into a stoic, unreadable mask as his eyes swept over the gathered adults.

"This is Alyssa," he announced, his voice clipped. "My wife, and your Luna Queen."

A tense silence stretched across the room. Alyssa held her breath, stiffening her spine and keeping her chin high, refusing to let them see her tremble under their calculating stares.

Then, Sage’s sharp features softened into a warm, genuine smile. "She is absolutely stunning, Dorian. A true Queen."

"Is that your natural hair?" Morgana asked, stepping forward with curiosity as she reached out to gently touch the crimson streak in Alyssa’s hair. "Oh, my. It is. It’s beautiful."

A massive wave of relief washed over Alyssa, the tight coil in her chest finally loosening. She offered a soft, genuine smile to the two women.

"It is a pleasure to meet you both," she said gently.

While the women welcomed her with immediate warmth, the older men, Conrad and Devon, remained where they stood, their arms crossed as they watched her with wary eyes.

Alyssa recognized that look instantly. The matriarchs might be charmed, but the patriarchs were already scrutinizing her.

"We are stealing your bride for a short while, Dorian," Morgana declared, slipping her arm through Alyssa’s. "We need to get her properly acquainted with the family before the Moon Ceremony."

Alyssa shot a brief, pleading look at Dorian, hesitant to leave his side, but the two women were already gently guiding her up the stairs.

Dorian watched them go, a faint smile playing on his lips until they disappeared from sight. The moment he turned back to his uncles, his expression iced over.

Conrad and Devon stepped forward, and Devon spoke first.

"Firstly, congratulations on the wedding, Dorian," he began, his voice deep.

"Thank you, Uncle," Dorian replied, his tone formal. "But I can sense you have burning questions."

"We are only concerned for the stability of the North," Conrad said, leaning his weight forward. "There is a rumor circulating about your bride. They say she is wolfless."

"It is not a rumor. She has no wolf," Dorian stated flatly, his golden eyes narrowing. "Is that a problem?"

Conrad and Devon exchanged a silent look.

"Well, by law, no," Conrad admitted. "But by tradition, it raises questions. We need to know if she is strong enough to rule."

"We only care for the safety of the line," Devon added.

"The line is secure," Dorian said. "I am already investigating why her wolf hasn’t awakened. She may simply be a late-blooming wolf."

"And what did Conri say to all of this?" Devon asked, his eyes darkening.

Dorian let out a cold laugh. "Exactly what you would expect. He was the same arrogant bastard he has always been. He refused to recognize her as his Luna."

Conrad scoffed, rolling his eyes. As the second eldest brother after Conri, the two had spent a century locked in a bitter rivalry.

"Conri would find fault with the Moon Goddess herself if she didn’t bow to him," he muttered. "He has wanted his son Joffrey on your throne since the day your father died. Ignore him."

"I intend to," Dorian said. He stepped closer, his gaze searching their faces. "You two are among the very few in this bloodline I actually trust. Do I have your full loyalty and allegiance?"

Conrad nodded firmly. "We made a vow to your mother on her deathbed that we would stand by you, Dorian. We intend to keep that vow until our last breath. We accept Alyssa as our Luna."

A weight Dorian hadn’t realized he was carrying seemed to lift from his shoulders.

"Thank you," he said. "During the Moon Ceremony, I plan to reveal her to the entire North. I hope you will be present."

"We wouldn’t miss it for the world," Devon smiled, clapping a hand onto Dorian’s shoulder.

...

Meanwhile, Alyssa sat on a plush velvet sofa in one of the private rooms, flanked by Sage and Morgana. The two older women had been coddling her for the last hour, bringing her sweet tea and pouring over the details of her life in the South.

​The atmosphere was warm, almost comforting, until Sage casually leaned back and set her teacup down with a soft click.

"Is it true, then?" she asked, her eyes searching Alyssa’s face. "The rumor about your wolf?"

Alyssa’s grip tightened on her saucer. She knew there was no point in lying; they probably already knew the truth.

"Yes," she murmured, looking down. "I am wolfless. But Dorian believes I am a late bloomer, that my wolf is simply dormant."

"Do not let the elders frighten you, sweet girl," Morgana said softly, placing a comforting hand over Alyssa’s. "Many werewolves in the ancient lines did not awaken until after their first mating. You are not the first, and you certainly will not be the last."

Alyssa offered a small, grateful smile, deeply touched by their kindness.

But then, Morgana’s smile shifted. The warmth in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a sharp, calculating curiosity.

She leaned in closer and whispered in a conspiratorial murder, "Can I ask you something personal, Alyssa?"

Alyssa felt an instinctual chill run down her spine. "Of course."

"How do you bear it, knowing that you are sharing a bed with a man who will never truly be yours?"

Alyssa blinked, her heart faltering. "I... I don’t understand."

"She’s talking about Dorian’s heart still belonging to Elvira," Sage cut in, leaning forward as well, their shadows overlapping across the small table. "You do know about his first love, don’t you?"

Alyssa’s throat went dry. "I know she existed. But Dorian does not speak of her."

"Of course he doesn’t," Morgana shook her head. "No man likes to speak of their first love, especially when he blames himself for her death. I’m going to tell you what happened because you deserve to know everything."