The Winter Solstice Feast was not a corporate gala; it was a primal display of Pack hierarchy. The Great Hall of the Packhouse was transformed, lit only by hundreds of flickering beeswax candles and a massive roaring fireplace. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat, pine resin, and the heavy, electric musk of dozens of werewolves in one room.
Sera stood before the mirror in her West Wing quarters. She had chosen a gown of deep, obsidian velvet that seemed to absorb the light. Around her neck, she wore the Thorne diamonds—not as jewelry, but as a statement of her status.
She felt different. The knowledge of the "Right of the Mate's Decree" was a cold weight in her mind, a secret weapon that made her walk with a newfound, regal confidence.
* * *
As she entered the Great Hall, the conversations died down. Alistair was already there, standing at the head of the long stone table. He looked like an ancient king in a dark, military-style tunic, his platinum blonde hair shimmering in the firelight.
When his golden eyes met hers, Sera felt a physical jolt. It wasn't just the Mate bond; it was a clash of two powers. He saw the change in her—the way she didn't look for his approval, but walked as if she owned the stones beneath her feet.
"You are late, Luna," Alistair rumbled as she took her seat beside him. His voice was low, but it carried a dangerous edge of possessiveness.
"A Luna arrives exactly when she intends to be seen, Alpha," Sera replied smoothly, her voice carrying just enough to be heard by the nearby Elders.
Lydia Thorne, seated across from them, stiffened. Elara, standing behind the Alpha's chair, narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
* * *
The feast was halfway through when the heavy oak doors swung open. Alpha Kael entered, flanked by his personal guard. His presence was like a drop of poison in a cup of wine—slick, arrogant, and provocative.
"Alistair," Kael greeted, his smirk as sharp as a blade. "I wouldn't miss the Thorne Solstice for the world. Especially when the entertainment is so... unique."
His eyes slid to Sera, lingering with a disgusting, predatory intent.
Kael walked directly to the head of the table, ignoring the protocol of waiting for an invitation. He leaned over, placing his hand on the table near Sera's.
"I've been thinking about our last meeting, Seraphina," Kael drawled, his voice loud enough for the entire hall to hear. "A human managing a wolf's assets is like a sheep managing the wolves' winter stores. It's only a matter of time before the hunger becomes... unmanageable."
Alistair's growl was a low vibration that made the wine in the glasses tremble. The gold in his eyes flared, turning almost white with Alpha rage. He began to stand, his muscles coiled for a lethal strike.
Sera did something no one expected. She placed her hand firmly on Alistair's forearm, stopping him.
"Alpha Kael," Sera said, her voice cutting through the tension like a diamond through glass. "Your metaphors are as outdated as your Pack's recent quarterly earnings. You speak of hunger, yet you forget that a sheep who knows the shepherd's secrets is more dangerous than a wolf who only knows how to howl."
Kael laughed, a harsh, grating sound. He leaned in closer, his scent—something oily and metallic—assaulting her. "And what secrets do you know, little Luna? Do you know how it feels when your Alpha finally realizes you are nothing but a brittle, human mistake?"
He reached out, his fingers hovering inches from Sera's cheek—a direct violation of the Alpha's Mate.
The Hall went deathly silent. Every wolf was on their feet. Alistair's control snapped. He lunged across the table, his hand catching Kael's throat with a sickening thud.
"Touch her, and I will tear the heart from your chest before it can beat again," Alistair snarled, his voice no longer human. It was the raw, terrifying roar of the Alpha.
* * *
The tension was broken only when the Elders intervened, pulling the two Alphas apart before blood could be spilled in the sacred hall. Kael was escorted out, his mocking laughter echoing behind him, but the damage was done. The Pack had seen their Alpha lose control for a human.
Later that night, the Great Hall was empty. Only Alistair and Sera remained in the flickering shadows of the dying fire.
Alistair was pacing, his energy volatile, his tunic torn at the collar. He turned to Sera, his eyes still glowing with predatory fire.
"You stopped me," he accused, his voice a harsh rasp. "You dared to put your hand on me when he insulted you."
"I stopped you from starting a war you didn't need to fight," Sera countered, standing her ground. "You were falling into his trap, Alistair. He wanted you to lose control. He wanted the Pack to see you as unstable."
Alistair slammed his fist against a stone pillar. "I am unstable! Every time you are in the room, every time a man looks at you, the bond screams for blood! I cannot fulfill the contract if I am constantly fighting the urge to claim you!"
Sera walked toward him, not with fear, but with the cold authority of the Ancient Rites.
"Then perhaps the contract is the problem, Alistair," she whispered, her icy blue eyes locked onto his gold ones.
She reached into her velvet gown and pulled out a small, handwritten parchment—a draft of her intended use of the Ancient Decree.
"I have been studying the old ways. I know about the Right of the Mate's Decree. I know that I have the power to stabilize this Pack if you cannot."
Alistair froze. The shock of her knowledge momentarily eclipsed his rage. "Where did you find that? That is forbidden for humans."
"I am not 'just a human' anymore, Alistair. I am the Luna you asked for," Sera stated, stepping into his personal space. The scent of him—pine, musk, and raw power—was overwhelming, but she didn't flinch.
"If you cannot control your instinct, I will use the Decree to force the Pack's hand. I will redefine the terms of our 'business.' Either we find a way to rule together, or I will use the ancient laws to ensure you never have to worry about my 'brittle' safety again."
Alistair stared at her, the woman he had tried to cage with a contract and distance. He saw the fire, the intellect, and the lethal beauty of a true Luna.
Without a word, he grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against him. The contact was like an explosion. For the first time, he didn't pull away. He leaned down, his lips hovering over hers.
"You think a piece of parchment can stop what I feel?" he hissed, his voice a mix of agony and desire. "You are playing with fire, Seraphina. And tonight, the Alpha is very, very hungry."
END OF CHAPTER TWELVE.