BLUE HILL LUNA

CHAYSE'S POV

My father, the Beta, always warned me.

But my life never went as planned.

They didn't just warn me away; they practically shoved me out the door. A silk dress. Makeup. A corset that crushed my abdomen until I couldn't breathe.

"Go get married tonight," my father ordered.

He just wanted me gone. He was tired of my training, tired of my ambition to take his rank as the next Beta of the Amber Sky Pack. I was a distraction.

This gathering wasn't for socializing. It was for one thing: Mating. Every eligible wolf between eighteen and twenty-five was here to dance, drink, and find their forever.

I ignored the ballroom. I went straight up the stairs to the large rooms, making a beeline for the bar.

I didn't drink, but I liked watching the bartenders. It was a distraction.

I got myself a bottle of Scotch—a defensive move. I snatched a plateful of the finest sweets and pastries and sat back down. Fortress Chayse.

I took a sip of the Scotch. It burned clean.

That's when the first idiot slid over.

His smile was sloppy. His words slurred, thick and sweet.

"Hey, did it hurt when you fell from heaven? 'Cause you look like the finest angel to exist."

Nope. Not my Mate. And definitely not sober.

I pushed the barstool with my elbow. He tumbled to the floor.

Victory. I celebrated with a large bite of a chocolate chip cookie.

Suddenly, I felt cold, bone-deep exhaustion. I needed coffee. My father wouldn't even let me have chocolate milk without asking first, but tonight, I was filling up on caffeine and sugar.

"Chayse!"

Eliza. My best friend. My annoying, high-pitched best friend.

I set down my coffee cup.

"You said you wouldn't leave me to the appealing men!" She grabbed my arm, her grip frantic, and dragged me onto the dance floor.

"Monitor me!" she gasped. "I don't want to get caught up in their... their *gorgeous*... faces... jawlines..."

She started to drool. I laughed, snapping her out of the trance.

"Look, I'm not getting chosen, and I don't want you falling for anyone," I teased, grabbing her hands and swinging her hard around the room.

"Yeah right. You definitely won't get chosen," she snorted, but the sarcasm died when her eyes went wide.

She stopped moving. She sniffed the air, her face focused, her eyes scanning the room.

Her gaze locked on a man sitting at a table. He was doing the same—scanning, searching.

They moved toward each other. Fast. They met and he crushed her in a hug.

Eliza was gone.

Her Mate. James. A massive soldier from our class. He was a good wolf. I felt a pang of relief for her. She was safe. She would stay here.

I went back to my barstool. Alone.

My treats were still there. I reached for a second piece of fudge.

That's when the gasps started.

The sound tore through the music. I turned.

My nose caught it. The air filled with pine and oak. The scent of three packs, but one smell—one overwhelming, primal odor—made my stomach clench.

The golden eyes. They stood out from the crowd like molten metal.

My spine shivered. My wolf, Aria, erupted.

'Mate! Chayse! Go to him! Now! GO!'

"Shut up, Aria! I am not abandoning my fudge for a second time today!" I snapped in my mind.

A low growl—a sound that burrowed under the skin—enveloped the room. It was deeper than any growl I had ever heard. It belonged to only one man.

Alpha Laven of the Blood Moon Pack.

Aria was howling gibberish. I wanted to punch her. The crowd cowered, turning to stone.

The golden eyes cut through the terror and landed on me.

I spotted Eliza, her face buried in James's chest. James was trembling, holding her tight. They knew this Alpha. They knew the danger.

The golden eyes grew nearer. They locked onto mine, and my heart hammered—not with fear, but with a horrifying, primal certainty.

Alpha Laven. The most feared man in history.

My shoulders trembled, my piece of fudge still in my hand. His face was a mask of cold stone. His golden eyes were hard, fixed.

His massive arms slammed down on the bar on either side of me, pinning me against the wood, trapping me against his chest.

"Mine," he growled, the word ripping deep from his throat.

"Yeah, mine," I shot back, forcing the sarcasm. I picked up the fudge and popped it into my mouth. "Definitely my fudge, mister."

He just stared. No flicker of emotion. Just a subtle, condescending eye roll at my absolute defiance.

"I enjoy being in your presence more than anything else," he whispered, leaning close. The mint scent was suffocating. "Amber Sky she-wolf."

"I enjoy your presence about as much as I enjoy sleeping next to a trashcan," I replied simply, narrowing my eyes.

The golden eyes flared. Not pleasant. **Rage**.

Anger convulsed his jaw, his hands clenching on the table so hard the wood groaned.

I examined him quickly. Tan skin. Razor-sharp stubble along his jawline. Every girl's dream, now my nightmare.

He let out that deep growl again. This time, I didn't tremble. I cocked an eyebrow, meeting his stare.

He grabbed my arm harshly and started dragging me toward the door.

"If I see any of you looking at my Mate, your limbs will be ripped from your body!" he roared, his voice a promise of violence.

He shoved me out the door and into a sleek, black Bugatti.

I grabbed the door handle, desperate to escape.

"You know, you are committing a crime, mister!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "This is practically kidnapping!"

"I am your Mate, I can do whatever I want, she-wolf," he snarled, slamming his door.

"No, this is human trafficking! And I have a name!" I snarled back.

He grabbed my wrist, squeezing. Hard. Brutally hard.

"Stop! You're hurting me!" I cried out, the sharp pain pulling tears from my eyes.

A brief moment of regret crossed his face before his hard stare slammed back into place.

He let go. I rubbed my wrist, the bone throbbing.

I looked at the monster who claimed me.

I gave him the one thing he hadn't yet crushed.

My identity.