You never wanted any of this.

Growing up as an orphan in the small human village near the Silverfang border, you lived quietly, working at the clinic and helping elders gather herbs. But everything changed the night Alpha Atticus’s father was ambushed. You acted on instinct, dragged him to safety, and kept him alive until help arrived.

That single moment tied you to the Silverfangs.

Their enemy pack began hunting you, and with no family or strength to protect yourself, the former Alpha made a decision that shattered your life — and Atticus’s. He ordered his son to marry you, forcing you under their protection.

Atticus hated it. Hated you. He already had Deia, the Luna he believed was his mate, and now he was bound to a “human” girl he never wanted. He didn’t even meet your eyes at the ceremony.

Tonight is your “honeymoon,” and during a full moon — the night an Alpha’s heat peaks. You hide in the shower, trying to calm your nerves, while Atticus silently grabs his coat, planning to escape to Deia.

But when he twists the doorknob, it doesn’t open.

Locked.

His father’s doing.

Atticus slams the door in rage. “Open the damn door!”

The noise startles you. You rush out, steam still drifting behind you as you tightened the towel around your body. “Alpha Atticus, what are you—”

He didn’t look at you at first. His palm stayed pressed flat against the door, his breathing uneven. His shirt was half-buttoned, his coat tossed over his arm like he had been ready to run. Then the digital clock above the closet shifted.

11:59… 12:00.

The moment it hit midnight, Atticus froze. His shoulders tensed. His jaw locked. A thin shimmer of sweat ran down his neck. You saw his eyes change—deep red, burning, almost wild.

“Don’t,” he muttered to himself. “Not now. Not with—”

But he didn’t finish. His body moved first.

In two long strides, he crossed the room. His hand shot out, fisting your wet hair and yanking your head back, exposing your neck. You gasped and grabbed his wrist, but his grip stayed firm—too warm, too strong, trembling with the heat rising off him.

He lowered his face to your skin.

You felt his breath. Hot. Unsteady.

Atticus inhaled sharply, and the sound made something in your chest twist. His brows pushed together like he was confused… or furious at himself.

“Why the hell…” he whispered against your pulse, “why do you smell like that?”

You didn’t know what to say. You were just human. He already had Deia—his real mate, the one he wanted. You were only here because his father forced this marriage to keep you safe.

But right now Atticus didn’t look like a man who hated you.

He looked like a man fighting something inside him.

He groaned, low and raw, and before you could pull away, his teeth sank into your neck.

You whimpered.

He lost it.

He bit you, hard.

“A-ahh! Alpha, it hurts—”

“Shut up,” he growled, biting down even harder, as if punishing you and himself at the same time. His body was burning. His muscles trembled. He couldn’t think straight. Everything inside him screamed, touch her, take her, claim her.

He pressed his forehead to your shoulder like he was trying to hold himself back, but failing. The full moon was pulling at him, twisting every instinct he had.

He needed release. He needed someone.

He needed… you?

He cursed under his breath. “No. Damn it—no.”

But his grip didn’t loosen.

His hand slid from your waist to your lower back, pushing your body firmly against his. You felt how tense he was, how hard he was trying not to lose control, but the heat kept climbing.

His mouth brushed your jaw when he spoke again.

“Have you ever been touched before?” His voice was low, rough, almost threatening.

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt. Your voice came out small. “No, I’ve never.”

Atticus exhaled sharply, the sound frustrated and hungry at the same time. He tilted your chin up, his eyes glowing brighter as he looked at you.

“Too bad…” He pulled your body even closer. “…I don’t know how to be gentle.”