When My Mate Offered Me to the Rogue King

Seven years. Two thousand, five hundred and fifty-five days since the Moon Goddess tied my soul to his. In any other pack, the seventh anniversary of an Alpha and Luna’s mating ceremony would be a day of feasting, a celebration of the sacred bond that strengthens the entire pack. In the Obsidian Crest Pack, it was just another Tuesday, and I was on my knees, scrubbing dust from the floorboards of a room I wasn’t technically allowed to enter.

Alpha Theodore Hamilton didn’t allow maids in his private study. He claimed he didn’t trust their scents mingling with pack business. So, I did it. I, Aria Lawrence, the Luna of this formidable territory, took on the work of a servant just to be close to him. It was pathetic, I knew, but the mate bond was a cruel, demanding thing. It starved for his presence, even if all I ever received was the back of his head or the slam of a door.

Thunder rumbled outside, shaking the heavy mahogany desk. As I reached to polish the brass handle of his bottom drawer, the lock clicked. It was broken, left slightly ajar. I shouldn't have looked. I knew better. But a scent drifted out—faint, stale, yet preserved with meticulous care. Vanilla and rain. It wasn't my scent. It was *hers*.

My trembling fingers pulled the drawer open. Inside, resting on a velvet cushion like a holy relic, was a delicate silk handkerchief. It was old, the edges fraying, but it was saturated with scent-marking herbs to keep the smell of its owner alive. Frances Nelson. The woman who had died seven years ago. The woman he had chosen. The woman he believed had saved his life.

"What do you think you are doing?"

The voice was a low growl that vibrated through my chest, triggering a submissive whine I bit my lip to suppress. I spun around. Theodore stood in the doorway, his massive frame blocking the light, rain dripping from his dark hair. His eyes, usually a cold, distant brown, were blazing with amber fury.

"I... I was cleaning," I stammered, standing up and dusting off my apron. "The drawer was open. Theo, it’s our anniversary today. I thought—"

He crossed the room in two strides, not to embrace me, but to slam the drawer shut with a violence that made the wood crack. He didn't even look at me; his eyes were fixed on the drawer, as if checking for damage to the ghost inside.

"Do not touch her things," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "You taint them, Aria. You are not worthy to breathe the same air as her memory. She was a warrior. She saved me when I was broken. You? You are just... here."

The words were invisible claws, tearing at the bond in my chest. "I am your mate, Theodore," I whispered, my voice breaking.

"Get out," he commanded, turning his back on me. "And do not enter this room again."

I