Chapter 31: A Royal Wolf’s Claim
Chapter 31: A Royal Wolf’s Claim
(Celeste’s POV)
“She deserves proper respect.”
With the words, the air grew heavy with an intense, suffocating presence.
My wolf whimpered, trembling faintly within me, and I tightened my grip on my sleeves, as if
that could shield me.
It didn’t take long for me to pinpoint the source of the overwhelming dominance flooding the sacred grounds.
Standing at the heart of the temple, Marcus Blackwood’s imposing figure commanded
attention. His royal violet eyes, glinting with satisfaction, locked onto me the moment I
entered.
The murmurs around us silenced in an instant. Every wolf in the vicinity, from the
lowest–ranked omegas to even high–standing pack members, instinctively submitted.
Heads lowered as feeble whines echoed throughout the grounds. Even the air itself seemed to
bow to the sheer weight of his wolf’s authority.
My legs felt rooted to the spot as Marcus strode towards me with a confidence that reeked of
entitlement.
My wolf instinctively began to lower my head out of submission–four years of imprisonment
trained her to yield without question to wolves like him.
But before I could fully submit, Marcus’s hand caught my chin, forcing me to look up.
His grip was firm, cold, and spoke volumes of his claim. His violet eyes burned into mine with
an intensity that made my stomach churn., There was no kindness in his gaze–just
possession.
“Under my protection now,” he declared loudly, his voice resonating across the temple grounds. It was a command, a warning wrapped in velvet. Everyone heard it.
The wolves around us stirred with unease, their gazes flickering toward me and back to him.
Many of them were the same wolves who once whispered behind my back, calling me a
traitor, scorning me for my scars and my fall from grace.
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Chapter 31: A Royal Wolf’s Claim
Now, those same eyes filled with reluctant submission, forced by Marcus’s overwhelming
dominance.
For a mere second, I let my gaze drift to the side, searching for an escape, but his hand
tightened.
“Eyes on me,” he growled softly, his tone gentle enough to sound civil, but laced with steel.
My throat tightened. My wolf whimpered again, retreating farther into me. Swallowing my pride and suffocating resentment, I held his gaze, not because I wanted to, but because the
alternative–the consequences of resistance–were worse.
“Let it be clear,” Marcus continued, his voice cutting through the heavy air. “Any disrespect
toward her will be treated as disrespect toward me.”
Each word seemed sharper than a blade, slicing through the murmur of wolves who dared to
question his claim. His wolf radiated dominance so intensely that several wolves around us
whined audibly, their heads dipping lower.
I felt trapped, as though bindings heavier than silver chains had latched onto me once again, dragging me into the suffocating spotlight I worked so hard to avoid. The weight of his words
echoed louder in my ears than anything else in the temple.
Diana’s voice shattered the silence like glass. “With respect, Your Grace,” she began, her tone
sharp and edged with defiance that belied her words. “Is this wise? A disgraced wolf with
silver scars–one who’s lost her pack status–hardly seems fit to stand beside you.”
It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.
My head whipped to her, and my wolf growled softly. Beside her stood Emma, visibly nervous,
though attempting to keep her composure.
The air shifted dangerously. Marcus’s wolf bristled, his aura intensifying, making even the
most submissive wolves flinch.
My stomach churned as I felt his grip tighten on my arm, the edge of his fingers pressing
painfully against my scars.
Diana, bold as ever, stepped forward. Her wolf’s aggression glowed faintly. She smirked slightly, clearly emboldened by years of her high standing in the pack.
“Silver scars don’t disappear. Neither does their meaning,” she scoffed. “Is this the image you wish to present to the sacred packs, Your Grace?”
Nina moved instantly, stepping closer to me, her silver–gray wolf radiating a protective aura.
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Chapter 31: A Royal Wolf’s Claim
Her subtle growl was soft, yet it made Diana falter.
But Marcus? He didn’t falter.
The shift in him was instantaneous.
Where once he masked his cruelty under the guise of calculated charm, now the predator lurking beneath surfaced. His violet eyes gleamed with thinly veiled rage, and a deadly smile
curled across his lips.
Diana’s wolf cowered visibly under his glare, but she raised her chin, perhaps out of pride or
sheer foolishness.
“Seize her,” Marcus commanded, his voice soft but slicing through the air like a sword.
Two royal guards appeared seemingly out of nowhere, their towering forms flanking Diana with predatory precision. Diana’s wolf immediately bristled, letting out a defensive snarl.
Emma panicked. Her eyes darted around desperately before she clasped her hands together and pleaded, “Your Grace, please, Diana didn’t mean harm! It was just–just bluntness! Please
forgive her for overstepping.”
But Marcus’s predatory smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, his amusement evident. “Respect,” he purred, “must be taught.”
My chest constricted. This wasn’t just about me anymore. Marcus was about to use Diana as an example–one I never wanted to see unfold but felt powerless to stop.
I felt nauseous. My wolf howled faintly, aching to step aside, to flee. Instead, I forced myself to gather my courage and gently pressed my hand onto Marcus’s forearm.
His head snapped toward me, his violet eyes locking onto mine with an unreadable intensity.
“Marcus,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the panic swelling inside me. “The sacred grounds are watched by the Moon Goddess herself. Blood shed here would be a grave insult. And today… today, we’re here for blessings, not punishments.”
For a heartbeat, everything froze. His gaze flicked down to where my hand rested over the fabric of his sleeve, silver scars peeking out from under my loose sleeves. His wolf growled softly, a dangerous sound.
But the pointed mention of the Moon Goddess and the sacredness of this ceremony seemed to pull him back from the edge.
He stepped back slightly, his hand releasing my chin. The guards paused, unsure, as Marcus’s calm voice broke through the tension: “Very well. Let her leave–but she’d be wise to
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remember today’s lesson.”
Diana’s legs buckled, her wolf collapsing into submission as the tension shattered.
Marcus’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against him with possessive ease. I stiffened as his grip secured me with a silent reminder of the chains that now bound me to his
side.
“We’ll proceed,” he murmured, his tone low but dripping with satisfaction.
Trapped in his grasp, my wolf whimpered as he led me deeper into the temple. Every gaze bore into me, each wolf’s expression ranging from shock to fear.
And yet, there was no weight, no lingering satisfaction in my chest–only an ache that
screamed at me to retreat.
This attention, this forced claim, wasn’t triumph.
It was confinement all over again, just in another form.
As the temple’s golden light grew brighter around us, the old Celeste fractured even more, buried deeper beneath the quiet, suffering resolve. The vibrant girl who once danced under the moonlight was gone–prison had killed her.
Now, as Marcus’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly, I knew I had traded one kind of silver
chain for another.
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