My Alpha Drugged Me and Called Me Crazy

At 6:42 p.m., forty minutes before my Luna Ceremony, I was on my knees in the east corridor, coughing blood onto the stone.

I had pushed too far. Four warriors had come back from the border fight. Two had torn throats. I held them together with my bare hands until my palms burned silver and something deep in my stomach ripped.

No one came. The corridor stayed dim and empty. My blood pooled warm under my fingers.

Then the bond in my chest grew warm. It wasn't for me. Through it I felt Connor, my mate, the Alpha of the Ashveil Pack. He was glowing with slow, smug pleasure, like a cat lying in the sun. Upstairs, the Redmoor Alpha was signing the treaty I had spent three months building. Connor was smiling. I could feel it in my own teeth.

I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and stood up.

His quarters were at the end of the hall. I only meant to tell him his warriors would live. My hand was already raised to knock when I heard his voice.

"She does this thing," Connor said. Then he gasped, high and choppy, mocking me. "'Connor, I can't breathe. I can't, I can't, please don't leave.'" He made a wet, sobbing sound.

A girl giggled. It was Brielle Williamson, our Gamma's daughter. "Stop. That's awful."

"Is it?" His voice dropped. "Come here."

The bond flooded with heat. It was hungry and thick. It was desire, and it wasn't for me. It poured into my chest like it belonged there. Under the door I smelled his burnt pine, and on top of it a sticky, cheap perfume.

Inside me, my wolf Lyra lifted her head. She was weak, but she snarled. A low growl rolled through my ribs for the first time in months.

Seven years. My healing. My mother's money. My nights awake drawing maps of other packs' weak spots. He had never loved me. He had harvested me.

I opened the door.

Brielle sat on the edge of his desk with her blouse half open, checking her lipstick in a little silver mirror. Connor didn't even stand up.

"Your warriors are stable," I said.

"Good." He leaned back. "Something else?"

"I heard you."

He sighed like I was a chore. "Heard what, Cora? You're having one of your episodes. You're imagining things again." His voice was soft, practiced, bored. "Did you drink your tea today?"

I didn't answer. I just looked at him.

Usually this was where I cried and said sorry. Not tonight. My eyes stayed dry and my hands stayed still. I watched his gaze sharpen. Something flickered behind it. He was doing math.

"Be at the banquet," he said. "Wear the blue."

*

Three hundred wolves filled the great hall. The signed alliance scrolls sat on the head table under glass candles, like trophies. Allied guests from four packs sat near the front.

Connor rose with his goblet. Everyone went quiet.

"I, Connor, Alpha of the Ashveil Pack, reject you, Coraline, as my mate and Luna."

The mark on my neck went cold. Then it went empty, like a door closing on an empty room. Lyra made one small sound and went silent, and the silence was worse than pain. My legs folded. The stone floor slammed into my cheek.

"And I name Brielle Williamson," Connor said, holding out his hand, "as my chosen Luna."

Brielle floated to his side, glowing.

No one moved. Not one wolf.

I lay there and breathed. I counted three breaths. Then I put my palms flat on the floor and pushed.

It was slow. Everyone watched me do it. I stood up, walked to the head table, and lifted the first scroll from under the glass.

"The Redmoor treaty," I said. My voice was low and steady. It carried. "I wrote every term. The Stoneharrow river rights? I negotiated those for nine weeks. Your sons who came home from the border this year came home because I bled for them." I looked at the allied tables. "Every one of these was signed with me as guarantor. I withdraw."

I tore Redmoor in half. Then Stoneharrow. Then the other two. The paper sounded like bones snapping.

"They're void."

The hall exploded into noise. The Redmoor envoy shot to his feet. Connor's face went dark red.

"KNEEL."

His Alpha tone hit the room like a falling wall. Wolves ducked their heads. The pressure landed on my chest, and my knees locked hard against it.

But there was nothing left in me for him to command. The quiet place where Lyra slept did not bend.

Neither did I.

I met his eyes over the torn paper. I said nothing. Then I turned and walked toward the doors.

His warriors' wounds would hold for two days, maybe three. Then the flesh I had sealed would start to open again. Only I knew how to close it.

Behind me, I heard Connor hiss to Brielle, "Find that video. All of it."

Her heels clicked after him. "I already have it, baby. Every second."