Our small engagement party was held at a private restaurant in Tribeca. Only our closest family and key allies were there.

I wore an ivory silk dress, with the diamond necklace Julian’s mother had left for him—her will stated it was for her daughter-in-law.

When Julian slid the Thorne family’s heirloom emerald ring onto my finger, my parents’ eyes welled up with tears.

“I missed my chance seven years ago,” he whispered, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “This time, I swear on my life, no one will ever take you from me again.”

The ring felt cool and real on my skin.

“I swear it too,” I murmured back. “No matter how dark the road ahead, we walk it together.”

We kissed. It wasn't ceremonial; it was deep, possessive, a kiss sealed with a promise of forever. His canines grazed my lip, the slight sting sending a jolt of pleasure through me, making my wolf soul hum with delight.

As applause filled the room, my phone rang.

Liam.

Julian placed his hand over mine. “Answer it. On speaker. Let everyone hear.”

I pressed the button, putting it on speakerphone.

“Elena…” Liam’s voice was trembling. In the background, I could hear ragged breathing and the sound of something shattering. “Please… help me…”

The guests looked over, surprised.

“Mr. Blackwood, I think you have the wrong number,” I said calmly.

“No! Please, come to the estate! Something’s… stalking me… I can’t leave the house! Every time I try to walk out the door—” He broke into a violent coughing fit. “Something shoves me back! A gargoyle fell off the roof… the stairs disappeared! There’s something in my room!”

I could hear Sophia’s voice trying to soothe him. “Baby, you’re just stressed—”

“I’m not!” Liam screamed. “I see shadows! But they’re gone when I turn—Elena, you’re a Seer, you have to know! Please, I’m sorry, for everything! Just save me—”

I looked at Julian. He nodded, his eyes calm.

“I’m sorry, Liam,” I said clearly. “I’m at my engagement party. Happy birthday. Enjoy what’s left of your… sanity.”

I hung up and turned off my phone.

Julian raised his glass, his smile perfectly composed. “A minor interruption. Please, let the music continue.”

The string music started again. But I knew the curse had fully descended. And I was no longer his salvation.

The party ended on a warm note. Back at the apartment, the moment we walked through the door, Julian pinned me against the wall, his kisses falling on me like a storm.

“Hearing him beg you like that,” he murmured between kisses, his voice hoarse, “all I wanted to do was mark you right then and there, to let the entire world know you’re mine.”

His scent grew richer—the bittersweetness of dark chocolate, the fresh scent of a forest after rain, and a deep, primal power, like the calm before a hurricane, dangerous and intoxicating.

My body responded instantly. My heat, fully triggered, exploded, my scent of moonlight and fresh snow releasing uncontrollably, tangling with his.

“Julian…” I gasped, my fingers burying themselves in his thick hair.

He swept me up into his arms, carried me into the master bedroom, and laid me down on the large bed with black Egyptian cotton sheets.

Moonlight illuminated his bare torso—perfectly defined muscles, the Thorne family’s wolf tattoo on his shoulder blade glowing with a dark gold light.

“This will hurt,” he said, kneeling between my legs and leaning over me, his amber eyes now completely gold, the eyes of a wolf. “But I’ll make sure you only remember the pleasure.”

His kisses trailed down from my lips to my collarbone, then to the sensitive skin of my breast. Every time his canines brushed against my skin, a shiver ran through me. His hands moved over my body, lighting a trail of fire.

When his teeth finally rested on the marking spot on the side of my neck, I gripped the sheets.

“Look at me, Elena,” he growled, his voice mixed with the guttural sound of a wolf. “I want you to watch as I make you mine.”

I opened my eyes and met his golden wolf gaze.

Then—

A sharp pain shot through me.

It was immediately followed by a wave of ecstasy, a soul-shattering tremor. His canines pierced my skin, injecting his Alpha essence, merging with my White Wolf bloodline.

In that instant, I “saw” it.

The soul bond.

Golden light and silver light poured out of our bodies, tangling in the air, weaving together to form an ancient runic contract. Our wolf souls met on the spiritual plane—his giant wolf, majestic as a mountain, with eyes of burning amber; my white wolf, elegant as the moon, her fur shimmering with silver light.

They sniffed each other, whimpered softly, and then curled up together, their lights intertwining, becoming one.

“Ah…” I cried out, not from pain, but from a feeling of completeness—the missing half of my soul had finally returned.

Julian released his bite but didn’t move away. He licked the wound, his saliva promoting healing, making the spot tingle and itch.

“Now,” he panted, entering me, “feel me, Elena. Feel your Alpha.”

We were tangled together countless times that night.

Each time the mark began to heal, it would be torn open again by the sheer intensity of our pleasure, bleeding a silvery-tinged blood. Julian licked it clean again and again, deepening our connection each time. His scent and mine merged completely, creating a vortex of raw desire in the room that was almost tangible.

By morning, I was limp in his arms, covered in love bites and kisses, the mark on my neck healed into an intricate silver-and-gold pattern—the symbol of the union between a white wolf and a black wolf, beautiful and mysterious.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, gently stroking the mark.

“A lot,” I said honestly, my voice hoarse. “But it’s beautiful.”

He smiled and kissed my forehead. “Sleep now, my moon. The whole world knows you belong to me now.”

I closed my eyes, sinking into a deep sleep, enveloped in a sense of absolute safety.

But in the depths of my dream, I heard the whispers of a swamp and saw the reflection of a blood-red moon.

And I heard a woman’s laughter—it wasn’t Marie Laveau.

It was Sophia.

She was chanting an ancient spell, holding a voodoo doll stained with blood.

Stuck in the doll’s chest was a single strand of silver-white hair.

My hair.