Two Wolf Kings, One Lie Chapter 01 (Continue)
The full moon was coming. By the customs of the Blood Wolf Clan, mates were expected to attend the tribe’s most sacred ceremony together.
My husband Ryan had finally given in and agreed to bring me and our daughter Lucy to the Wolf Altar, where the whole clan would officially meet me as their “Alpha’s wife.” Three years had passed since we made our mate contract, and all that time he had kept me hidden. At last, I thought, I had my place.
But just as I was about to leave the castle, a servant stepped in front of the door and bowed his head, too afraid to meet my eyes:
“My Lady, the Alpha says you don’t need to come. He is taking the young miss to speak with the leader of the White Wolf Clan — White Wolf King Lucas. They are the most powerful clan on the Moonlit Plains, and it wouldn’t be proper for you to join them.”
I stood there, my fingers gripping the hem of my sleeve.
Three years. I had never cared about titles. But this visit to the altar — he had promised me with his own lips that I would stand before the tribe as his mate.
With one sentence, he had cut me out.
I gave a cold laugh, asked nothing, turned back to my room, and used my communication stone to reach my childhood friend Lucas.
The same White Wolf King Ryan had just been talking about.
Less than a quarter of an hour later, the sound of wind rushed past my window.
I pushed it open to find a huge wolf, pure white all over, crouched quietly in the moonlight — his shoulders level with the windowsill. His fur was colder than moonbeams, and his deep blue eyes looked up at me as he lowered his great head.
“Weren’t you supposed to be meeting with Ryan?” I asked.
Lucas’s voice came from between his wolf jaws, casual and light: “He’s worth meeting with?”
I swung up onto his back, fingers sinking into the thick fur at his neck. The great wolf let out a long howl, leaped into the wind, and raced toward the distant gates.
Ryan’s castle sat on a cliff’s edge, its stone walls covered in dead vines, its iron gates heavy as chains.
When the servants saw me, they clearly panicked, moving to block the way out of instinct. I said nothing. Lucas shifted into human form and stood beside me — one look from him, and the servants dropped to their knees.
“My — my Lady, the Alpha truly only went to talk about business —”
“Business?” I looked at him. “Where?”
The servant pointed toward the Wolf Altar, his voice shaking: “The Alpha said he had prepared a banquet at the altar tonight in your honor. All of the Blood Wolf Clan’s people have gone. He said… he said it was to celebrate his and his returning wife’s wedding anniversary, so the tribe would all know…”
Lucas turned to look at me, one brow raised. “It seems you’ve misunderstood him. Ryan wanted to surprise you.”
I stared at the servant’s frantic, darting eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to smile.
“Today is not our wedding anniversary,” I said.
Lucas’s expression went stiff.
I pressed my nails into my palm. “Let’s go. To the altar.”
Lucas said nothing more. He shifted back into his white wolf form, and I climbed up onto his back. His four legs drove hard beneath him, and we tore off toward the altar.
The Wolf Altar sat deep in the heart of the Moonlit Plains — a ring of piled boulders sitting silently in the dark, a bonfire burning at its center that never went out.
I carried enough of Ryan’s scent that the wolf-guards at the entrance didn’t question us — they didn’t even dare raise their heads as we walked in.
I led Lucas through the crowd.
Inside, the smell of wine and blood hung heavy in the air. Blood Wolf warriors, bare-chested, had their arms around women who were equally undressed, their laughter and shouting mingling together.
Then I saw Ryan.
The top half of his clothes was already off, showing his muscled chest and the wolf-totem tattoos on his arms. He had a woman in his arms, his lips pressed to hers in a kiss so gentle it looked as if he were holding something precious and fragile.
People around them slapped the tables and cheered; some whistled, some poured drinks.
My feet stopped.
I didn’t know the woman. But the smile on her face and the look in Ryan’s eyes as he gazed at her — those I recognized.
That was tenderness.
I had been bound to Ryan in a mate contract for three years. For three years he had kept me locked to his side, giving me orders for everything. When I asked him to make our bond public, he said I “didn’t know the rules.” When I had leaned close hoping for a kiss, he grabbed my jaw like a predator and pressed his lips to mine so hard I couldn’t eat for three days.
He had said that mates didn’t need soft gestures — as long as you were alive, that was enough.
I had believed him. I told myself I didn’t care. Feeling was weakness; the contract and the bond were what lasted.
And yet now, the man who had always said “we don’t need any of that” was kissing another woman with a care I had never once been given.
He was cradling her face in his hands, his thumb brushing the corner of her lips so lightly it was as if he were afraid of breaking her.
Something cracked inside my chest.
Not love — I’d said I didn’t care about that.
It was the contract. The bond. The respect he had promised me and then crushed himself.
I pushed through the crowd and rushed forward, driving my foot into the woman’s side.
She screamed and fell. Ryan’s face darkened as he jerked his head up in anger —
He saw it was me. His expression froze.
“How did you get here?”