The office air was thick with the scent of shattered glass, adrenaline, and something unspoken—something ancient. Elara barely ducked in time as the black shadow burst through the window and rolled across the marble floor with a snarl.
Dominic moved fast—too fast for a human. In one fluid motion, he caught the creature mid-leap, slammed it into the wall, and drove a dagger through its side with terrifying precision. The creature hissed, smoke curling from its mouth as its eyes flared red before it dissolved into ash.
Silence.
Elara pressed against the far wall, her heart hammering like a war drum. Her mind raced to catch up with what she'd just witnessed. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice failed her. Dominic turned toward her, his shirt slightly torn, a line of blood tracing down his temple.
He didn't look scared. He looked—annoyed.
"They sent a scout," he muttered, running a hand through his tousled black hair. "Too early. They're panicking."
"What was that?" Elara finally managed, inching forward. "What the hell was that thing?"
"A message," Dominic replied coldly. "To me. About you."
She swallowed. "I didn't do anything."
"Your blood did."
Dominic turned away and walked toward his desk, retrieving a black folder from a drawer. He opened it with mechanical calm and pulled out a document—several pages thick, clipped together with a gold pin. He placed it carefully on the glass table between them.
"This is a contract," he said. "One that states, for the next six months, we are married. Publicly. Legally. Socially."
"You're insane."
"Maybe. But I'm not lying."
Elara folded her arms across her chest. "You expect me to just marry a total stranger because some freak-demon-thing crashed your window and my arm got a tattoo that glows?"
"You already carry the mark. It's not a tattoo. It's a mating bond."
"Then break it."
Dominic laughed. Not a chuckle. A bitter, genuine laugh.
"If it were that easy, do you think I'd be offering a contract?" he said. "Mating bonds form when two powerful forces align by fate or magic. They cannot be undone. Only masked. This marriage is our mask."
Elara stared at the folder. "Why me?"
"Because you were born under the Moon's Blood."
She froze.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Your locket—it's made of cursed silver. I smelled the moonstone in your bag the moment you walked in. You're not just a starving artist, Elara. You're a descendant of the Moon-Born."
Her knees nearly buckled. "My mother used to say that," she whispered. "Before she disappeared."
"She didn't disappear," Dominic said. "She was taken."
A storm surge in Elara's chest. Too much. Too fast. Her body buzzed with unfamiliar energy, and a prickling heat crawled over her skin where the mark had appeared.
"And you think marrying you will fix that?"
"No," he said simply. "But it might protect you long enough to find the truth."
He tapped the contract.
"You get immunity under the Alpha's Shield. You get money, security, and no further harassment from supernatural entities. In return, you play your part: the dutiful Luna, wife of Dominic Vale."
She scanned the document. The clauses were crystal clear:
Six months of marriage
Public appearances
Cohabitation at Crescent Tower
Confidentiality of supernatural matters
No physical intimacy required
Her eyes widened at that line. Dominic raised an eyebrow.
"We won't be sharing a bed. Unless you want to."
She rolled her eyes. "You think you're charming."
"I think I'm dying."
That silenced her.
He turned away, gazing out the broken window. "My enemies can sense weakness. My powers are fading, and without a Luna, they will attempt a coup. The mating bond changes that. It sends a message: I am still chosen. Still dangerous. Still Alpha."
"And I'm the bait," she muttered.
"You're the bond."
She paced, brain spinning. The apartment. The bills. The nightmares. The glow in her veins. The silver locket, warm as a heartbeat. Was she really going to agree to this madness?
"And what do you get, besides political cover?" she asked.
Dominic turned, and for the first time, something genuine flickered in his silver eyes. Vulnerability.
"Time."
That word sat heavy in the room.
"What happens if we don't do this?" she whispered.
"I die. You die. Everyone between us and the ones who want our power... dies."
Silence stretched.
Then she picked up the pen. "What if I don't like being your Luna?"
"Then you make my life hell, and collect your check when it's over."
She signed.
The contract shimmered, and the mark on her arm pulsed with light.
Dominic looked at her, unreadable. "Welcome to the pack."
A knock rattled the office door. Dominic glanced at it, jaw tight.
"We have to leave. Now. Our wedding's in three hours."
"Three hours?!"
"The Council demands proof. And my enemies are already moving."
"What about my stuff?"
"Send someone."
"My cat?"
"Also handled."
She blinked. "You sent a supernatural SWAT team for my cat?"
"I won't lose what's mine."
She didn't know whether to slap him or kiss him.
Dominic reached out. "We don't have much time. You're about to meet a world full of monsters, secrets, and blood politics. Keep your head high. And trust no one but me."
Elara took his hand.
And the bond was sealed.