The Alpha’s Moon Gala Reckoning

I returned from a territory patrol to find my personal den-slippers still damp with another wolf's scent.

I asked Selene Frostveil if we'd had visitors.

She went rigid for a heartbeat, then let out a light laugh. "How could we? You know I'm terrible at hosting other wolves."

"I prefer spending the moon-rest quiet, just the two of us in our chambers."

"Isn't that what you always said drew you to me? How devoted I am to our bond?"

I offered a hollow smile and waited until she left to visit the pack market. Then I searched our den, chamber by chamber.

Someone had used the grooming blade in the bathing room. A set of sleeping furs in the wardrobe carried a foreign musk.

But the worst part? The sealed pouch of mating herbs in the bedside chest was completely empty.

Two days. Twelve doses.

Impressive stamina.

I swallowed my fury and sent a mind-link to my most trusted guard:

"Contact the den-keeper. Retrieve all ward-stone scrying from the past two days."

"And make certain no other wolf learns of this."

——

The next evening in my council hall, the scrying images were already waiting in my private viewing crystal.

I activated it and pulled the vision forward.

Crystal clear. Time-marked to the moment.

Starting three days ago, a male had been entering and leaving my den. Frequently.

The final vision was recorded one hour before I'd arrived:

The main entrance shimmered open. He stepped through with his arm wrapped around Selene's waist. They stopped just outside our private chambers—and kissed. Long, slow, desperate. The kind of kiss that made it impossible to tell where one wolf ended and the other began.

Selene's hand slipped beneath his tunic. I'd never witnessed her like that. So eager. So hungry.

I recognized him immediately.

Kael Ashford. Selene's new Omega Liaison.

I'd reviewed his credentials myself. Twenty-five years old, returned from training with a distant pack.

Six-foot-one, with the kind of face that made she-wolves forget their bonds.

The vision froze on the frame where he dipped his head to nuzzle the curve of her throat—right where my mate-mark should have been sacred.

I closed the scrying crystal and leaned back in my carved oak chair.

That's when the knock came. Two raps against the heavy door. Not too soft, not too loud.

"Enter."

The door swung open.

And there he stood.

Kael Ashford, in a tailored silver-gray tunic that emphasized his height and lean build. Every strand of dark hair perfectly groomed. His eyes carried the sharp confidence of youth—edged with something lazier. Almost arrogant.

He held a leather-bound ledger in one hand.

"Alpha Blackthorn."

His voice was clear, all formality.

"Beta-Consort Frostveil asked me to deliver this season's tribute reward list for your seal."

He walked to my desk and set the ledger down.

No pleasantries. No move to withdraw. He simply stood there, waiting.

Posture perfect. But his gaze drifted past my face to the ancestral tapestries behind me, as if this were nothing more than a trivial errand.

I looked up at him.

He didn't flinch. He even smiled—a smile with something unreadable beneath it.

Normally, when Selene sent documents like this—or had her attendant bring them—I'd glance at the totals and press my signet ring to the page. She managed the pack stores and tribute flow. I'd always granted her that authority.

But today, I picked up the ledger. Opened it.

Page by page, I went through the list. Tribute rewards ranged from modest silver portions to generous hunting allotments—consistent with this season's contributions.

Then I reached the last page.

My hand stopped.

Next to Kael Ashford's name was a staggering allocation.

Season's tribute reward: One thousand silver marks.

And in the remarks column, a single line: Plus one prestige patrol mount and prime den quarters.

One thousand silver marks. An elite mount. Private chambers fit for a ranked wolf.

For an Omega Liaison who'd served less than six moon-cycles.

My eyes lingered on those figures for two heartbeats. Then I looked up.

Kael was watching me. That faint smile had deepened, and something flickered in his gaze—impatience.

"Alpha Blackthorn, is there a problem?"

His tone stayed respectful. But there was an edge now.

A challenge.