Shackles of the Bond

Becca slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing through the room.

Her back pressed against the door, her breaths coming in short, rapid bursts as the enormity of what she had just done settled on her shoulders.

“Goddess,” she whispered under her breath, her palms filled with sweat as she lifted them to her flushed cheeks. “What did I just do?”

The memory played in her mind like a vivid nightmare.

Becca squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to calm down, to gather her scattered thoughts before—

The door creaked open.

She turned around, panic flickering across her features.

There, standing in the doorway like the storm itself, was Eugene.

His broad frame filled the entrance, his eyes locked onto her with a mix of warmth and predatory amusement.

He closed the door behind him without a word.

“Eugene,” she started, her voice a wary tremble.

He didn’t rush to speak. Instead, he took a slow step forward, his expression unreadable except for the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You surprised me, you know,” he said softly, his voice deep, making the air between them hum. “I didn’t think you would come… let alone declare yourself as mine in front of those vultures.”

Becca crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

“Don’t read too much into it,” she muttered, staring at a spot on the floor. “I only did it because you looked like you were one word away from losing everything.”

Eugene chuckled.

“Ah, so it was pity, then? Or mercy?”

“Call it what you want.”

Another step, closer this time.

Becca’s heart betrayed her by beating faster.

She hated how his presence could make her skin prickle and her pulse race.

“Well,” Eugene murmured, lifting a hand and brushing his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze, “whatever your reason… I’m grateful.”

His touch was electric, a jolt she hadn’t prepared for, and Becca immediately stepped back, putting distance between them.

“Don’t do that,” she snapped, a pink blush rising to her cheeks.

Eugene’s brow moved in amusement.

“What? Touch you? Or thank you?”

“Both.”

He gave a small, knowing smile.

“You can’t deny the bond forever, Becca. No matter how you fight it, it’s there. I feel it every time you walk into a room. Every time your scent brushes past me, it makes my wolf claw at my insides.”

Becca shivered.

“I told you before, Eugene. I don’t believe in being owned by anyone, not even by fate’s twisted sense of humor.”

“And yet…” he gestured toward the door, “you stood in front of the council and claimed me.”

She gritted her teeth, holding his gaze.

“Because if I hadn’t, you would’ve been outnumbered, overthrown, probably killed by Desmond and that serpent Luna Seraphina. I wasn’t about to let those two monsters win. That’s all it was.”

Eugene’s eyes gleamed, the corner of his mouth lifting into a grin.

“I would’ve handled myself fine, you know. Desmond is predictable. Seraphina is desperate. The council is already tired of their theatrics.”

Becca scoffed.

“You’re welcome for the backup anyway.”

“I’ll take it,” he said easily, moving to lean against the wall, his arms crossed over his powerful chest. “But now, you realize what this means.”

The words settled heavy in the air. Becca swallowed hard.

She did realize.

By tradition, by law, by ancient decree — his mate, having declared herself, would become his Luna. The Luna of the pack. The Alpha King’s mate.

Becca felt sick.

A wave of dizziness swam over her, and she staggered slightly. Eugene was at her side in a flash, steadying her before she hit the ground.

“Hey—Becca,” he said, concern visible on his face. “Are you alright?”

His arms were warm, his grip strong, and as she looked up into his amber eyes, something flickered in her chest — something sharp, frightening, and far too tender.

Becca pushed him back gently.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

Eugene didn’t look convinced but allowed her space.

There was a long silence before Becca finally spoke.

“Listen,” she began, her voice steadying, “If I’m going to be your… Luna — even if it’s just a title to save your throne — it will be on my terms.”

Eugene raised a brow.

“Terms? Alright, let’s hear them.”

Becca lifted her chin, her stance regaining its fire.

“First, whatever we tell the pack and council is one thing. But privately, between us, I’m not your Luna. I don’t belong to you, and I won’t act like your submissive little mate.”

Eugene grinned.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Second,” Becca continued, “I won’t share a bed with you. No sleeping together, no… other things. This is strictly political.”

He let out a low laugh.

“Damn. I thought you were about to say something worse.”

Becca scowled.

“I’m serious.”

“I know, I know,” Eugene chuckled. “Go on.”

“Third,” she said, crossing her arms, “I’ll have free access to leave the mansion whenever I want. I won’t be locked away or made to play perfect Luna hostess. I’ll go to my clinic, treat whoever I choose, and you — or anyone else — won’t stop me.”

Eugene’s eyes softened.

“Done.”

“And finally, I want access to the high-tech medical resources in your estate’s vault. The kind you keep for ‘high priority’ cases. No questions asked.”

He let out a slow whistle.

“You really are something, Becca.”

“Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.”

Eugene pushed off the wall, walking toward her.

There was something different in his expression now — a mix of admiration, intrigue, and the unmistakable glint of a predator cornering something he couldn’t quite control.

“You drive a hard bargain, healer.” He paused, then smirked. “But I accept.”

Becca’s posture relaxed.

“Good.”

But Eugene wasn’t finished. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he spoke in a voice thick with playful menace.

“Though I should warn you… I’m known to be very persuasive. I’ve made plenty of stubborn women rethink their rules.”

Becca’s stomach twisted.

“You should hear the stories,” he teased, “Just a few fingers… my tongue… and when I use my—”

“Eugene!” she snapped, wide-eyed, her face becoming even more red.

He burst out laughing at the look on her face.

“Relax, Becca. I’ll behave. For now.”

Then, without warning, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

It was tender, a contradiction to his earlier words, and left her more breathless than she wanted to admit.

“Get some rest,” he murmured, turning toward the door. “I’ll have my men bring your things from your house. This room is yours now. Make it feel like home.”

And with that, he left, leaving Becca standing alone in the center of the room.

Her heart thundered painfully against her ribs, and she clutched at her chest.

“Damn it,” she muttered to herself, furious at the traitorous way her heart leapt every time he smiled.

She closed her eyes.

“Get a grip, Becca.”

But even as she said it, the warmth of his kiss still lingered on her skin.