Chapter 3

Florence Barnes POV:

Staring at the broad, rough-palmed hand Conor held out to me, I didn't hesitate for a second before placing my cold fingers into his grasp.

The instant our skin touched, a violent jolt of electricity shot from my palm straight to my scalp, making my heart skip a beat. Conor's slate-blue eyes darkened, his grip tightening abruptly as his crisp cedarwood scent flared hot and heavy around us.

Trembling, the priest stepped forward holding an obsidian tray carved with ancient pack totems, with a sharp black stone dagger resting in the center.

Conor released my hand, picked up the obsidian blade, and sliced a deep gash across his own palm without blinking. Dark red blood welled up instantly. He handed the dagger to me, his gaze locking onto mine in one final, silent warning.

I took the hilt, pressed the cold stone edge against my palm, and drew it across my skin. A sharp sting made my brows furrow as warm blood trickled down my lifeline.

Conor caught my hand again, lacing his fingers tightly through mine so our bleeding palms pressed flush together.

The moment our blood mingled, an intoxicating scent of cedarwood mixed with dangerous gunpowder hit my senses—a scent meant only for my soul. My blood boiled in my veins, goosebumps rose across my arms, and my knees went so weak that I would have collapsed right onto the altar if Conor's iron arm hadn't snapped around my waist to hold me up. An overwhelming sense of peace and wholeness flooded my hollow chest, as if my twenty-one years of solitary wandering had finally found an anchor, while deep inside my mind, my dormant inner wolf let out a fierce, possessive roar: "Mine!"

Every adult werewolf knew the five undeniable signs of the Recognition Ritual gifted by the Moon Goddess—the scent, the physical surge, the soul's peace, the inner wolf's roar, and the electric sparks of first touch.

I snapped my head up in shock, only to find Conor's breathing ragged and heavy, his slate-blue eyes swirling with barely restrained primal hunger. Even as his Alpha healing factor already began closing the cut on his palm while my weaker Omega flesh still bled, the truth hit me like thunder: the feared Chief Magistrate was my fated Mate.

Standing beside us, Dorthy watched the fierce tension crackling between us with a knowing smile and raised her voice.

"In the name of the Moon Goddess, the Blood Oath is sealed!"

Deafening howls erupted from every wolf in the sanctuary, a primal chorus of submission and congratulations to their new Luna.

Conor let go of my hand and pulled a dark gray silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, wrapping it around my bleeding palm with movements that looked rough yet felt remarkably gentle.

"From this moment on, you are my wife."

His low, gravelly voice brushed against my ear.

"Don't make me regret today's decision."

I forced down the frantic pounding in my chest and curved my lips into a flawless, polite smile.

"Of course, my dear. I promise I will be a perfect Luna."

During the toast that followed, I held Conor's arm as we moved through the hall. Carie approached us with a wineglass, her smile twisted and sour.

"The new Luna certainly has impressive tricks, climbing to the top branch in the blink of an eye."

I clinked my glass lightly against hers with a serene smile.

"You flatter me, Carie. Since we are family now, I look forward to your guidance—as your elder in rank."

The crushing weight of Conor's presence beside me forced Carie to swallow her bile and retreat with a stiff face. Yet halfway through the reception, I noticed Conor's complexion turning pale. An abnormal flush crept around the old silver scar on his neck, and his knuckles turned white around his crystal glass as his breathing grew labored.

Realizing the prolonged release of his Alpha aura had triggered the backlash of his old silver wound, I covered the back of his hand with mine and turned to Dorthy.

"Dorthy, Lord Conor has had a long day. I'd like to accompany him back to the penthouse to rest first."

Dorthy caught on immediately and nodded.

"Go on. I will handle things here. Take good care of him."

Supporting half of Conor's heavy weight against my shoulder, I walked him out of the hall under hundreds of awe-struck gazes and stepped into the private elevator leading straight to the top floor of the headquarters tower.