CHAPTER 3

“They can’t do this.” Tristan runs his fingers through his hair, leaving a tousled mess behind. “I mean, they can. But it’s fucking barbaric.” 

I pace before him, my claws extending and retracting anxiously. “No. They can’t do this. This isn’t the 1600s. I still have rights.” 

“Rights are for humans,” Tristan comments blandly. “We’re Shifters. Completely different.” 

“Now is seriously not the time to joke,” I snap. “Do you want me to be shipped off? To the bloody Wyres of all people?” 

Tristan’s dry expression turns dark. A vein ticks along his sharp jaw. “No. Of course not.” 

“Then help me figure out a way to get out of this.” 

He shifts on the bed, snatching my hand in one, smooth move, and pulls me closer. “I would do anything for you. You know this. But I’m also a nobody.” 

“Your father owns half of Atlanta,” I reply. “You’re not a nobody.” 

Tristan waves my words away. “An heir is nothing. A Fox Shifter heir to Wolf Shifter parents is even more than nothing. They tolerate me because I’m the only kid they’ve got left.” 

A morbid silence settles between us. Tristan was the youngest of five brothers. And all five had been killed by Wyres. If anyone would hate to see me married to one of those monsters, it would be him. 

“Maybe your family can speak to my parents,” I say finally. “They wouldn’t be happy about this.” 

“That’s an understatement,” Tristan mutters. 

“Then they’ll try to convince them that this is a shitty idea,” I finish. “Please. Talk to them.” 

Tristan sighs, scooting over on the mattress to make room for me. I sit, tucking myself into the crook of his arm as if we were kids again. 

“I’ll do my best,” he tells me softly. “But, with this, I can’t make any promises.” 

“Mother thought I had sex.” 

A short, harsh bark of laughter fills my ears. “And who the hell did they think was the culprit?” I glance up at him with raised brows. Tristan’s cheeks flush red. “Wait—are you serious? That—There’s—”

“I told them that would never happen,” I assure him. Tristan’s mouth snaps shut. A shadow flits through his eyes turning the usual brilliant emerald to a muddy green. 

“Is that because the—the Wyre wants you to be…?” He can’t even finish the sentence. 

I shift away from him, thinking. “I’m not sure. They’ve barely told me anything. As usual.” I straighten as if struck by lightning. “But what if that’s the case? What if the Bloody Prince specifically asked for me to still be a virgin? And if I’m not…”

Understanding dawns on him. “Then you won’t be able to be married to the bastard.” 

“Exactly.” 

“But where the hell are you going to find a guy to sleep with you?” he asks. “The entire Shifter world knows who you are. They wouldn’t fucking dare. Not if they value their life.” 

I sit there. Waiting.

It takes him a bit longer to get where I was going with that. “Oh.” He pulls back a bit. “Oh.” 

“Come on, Tristan.” I lean in closer, letting our shoulders brush. “If I wanted to lose my virginity to anyone—it would be you.” 

“Because I’m the only option available?” he replies dryly. 

“Because you’re my best friend and I feel safe with you.” My head tilts just beneath his jaw, lips brushing against his neck. I feel him shiver beside me, a tremor so faint I almost think I just imagined it. 

The scruff along his jaw scratches along mine, the same dark color as his hair. For the first time in my life, I wonder what it would actually be like. To be with someone so completely. I know what happens—I’m not that sheltered. But I’ve never experienced it for myself. 

“Have you ever done it?” I ask softly. The heat of my breath warms my lips as I press them to his neck. His muscles tense beneath my hand as I trail it along his arm. 

“No.” His voice is strange. Almost strangled. “I haven’t—found the right person.” 

I snap up. “Then this is perfect. We can just get it over with and solve two problems in one go. Neither of us will be a virgin anymore and I won’t be shipped off to be a monster’s breeder. It’s a win-win.” 

He’s silent for a beat, as if he’s really contemplating my plan. But when he turns to me, his eyes burn with a dark intensity I’ve never seen before. We’re so close that our noses nearly touch, our breaths mingling as one. Shivers jolt down my spine, pricking along my skin. 

His fingers brush along my jaw, soft yet firm, searing me. My eyes snag on his lips, full and red, and desire pools in my gut. How have I never noticed what Tristan really looked like before now? How have I never seen him? I shiver again as his hands slip back down my shoulder, trailing across my collarbones. Leaning closer, our lips nearly meet, his breath warm against my cheeks.

“No.” 

I blink, frozen in place. “No?” 

He studies me for a moment, his eyes tracing every line, every curve of my face. “If I wanted to have sex with you, this isn’t how it would go. I wouldn’t do it just to save you—I’d do it because you really wanted me.” 

The space beside me feels cold and empty as he pulls away, unable to meet my gaze. 

“So you wouldn’t try to help me,” I reply coldly. “Even if not doing this means I’m shipped off to the middle of nowhere in the mountains, far away from you, from home, and married off to some monster.” 

His jaw clenches as fox-like claws extend from his nails. “That’s not fair and you know it.” 

“What I know is that I came to you for help and, so far, you’ve done nothing but make jokes.” 

He turns so fast we nearly collide on the mattress. “I’ve done a lot for you over the years. I come when you call like some trained pet. But this? You’re treating sex as if it means nothing to you.” 

“So?” I argue. “What if it doesn’t?” 

“It should.” 

“And give me one good reason why,” I reply, ice freezing over my words. 

His eyes lock with mine. “When you do it with someone you truly want—you truly love—then you’ll know.” 

I take a slow, shaky breath. A spark of rage ignites in my chest. “Get out.” 

“Octavia—”

“I said get the fuck out.” 

“If that’s what you wish.” Tristan goes still, lips thinning. “Princess,” he adds. 

I feel him move towards the door, hear the soft click of the latch as it closes. I don’t move until I hear his footsteps fade as he descends the stairs down the hall. Then I grab a pillow, my claws digging into the soft material, pressing my face against it. 

And then I scream. 

The wolf inside snarls, echoing my pain. My anger. My frustration. 

My fear. 

Tristan was my only hope. The only one I know I can depend on. Whenever I got in trouble, I always knew he would be there for me. Apparently, I’d asked too much. But how else was I supposed to escape this fate? Father and Mother clearly didn’t care about my safety or happiness. They only cared about ending this war. But was my life—my future—really worth it? Am I not allowed to be at least a little selfish when it comes to things like this? 

My thoughts turn to the Bloody Prince. By all accounts, the man was worse than a monster. He’d personally led attacks against the Shifters when he was only nineteen, still under his father’s thumb. When the old Alpha finally died, he took over. 

Since then, he’s been strategically picking us off bit by bit, wearing away at the edge of our territory. The Wyres have always been ruthless, but his reputation exceeds him. The Bloody Prince is a tale mothers tell their pups to scare them into misbehaving. He’s a whisper in the wind of gossip at every meeting, every dinner, and his name always carries a tinge of fear. Even for us. They still call him the Prince, though that’s not his real title. 

Alpha. 

An ancient, barbaric term. One my ancestors had gladly tossed aside for a more regal one. When I marry the Bloody Prince, I won’t be a princess anymore. I’d be called Luna. A title that held far more of our culture and history than anything I hold now. 

But I don’t want to be a Luna. 

I just want…to be me. 

Letting the pillow fall to the floor, I rise. My reflection glowers back at me in the vanity mirror. My cheeks are flushed red, my eyes watery and wide with fear and barely contained fury. The tips of my canines prick at my bottom lip. But I’m too upset to care. 

They will not get away with this. 

I will not become some monster’s plaything. I’m not sure how, but I’ll find another way to end this war that doesn’t involve selling me off like cattle. Mother and Father can do as they wish, but they don’t control me.

Not entirely. 

And if they try to make me go, then I’ll go kicking and screaming. I’ll fight them with everything I’ve got. The day the Bloody Prince takes me as his wife is the day he’ll regret it and every single day after. 

I’ll make sure of it.