The throne hall was colder than usual.
No fire roared in the hearth. No banners stirred. The courtiers had been dismissed an hour ago—an unusual move, but no one questioned it. Not when the Lykan King walked the same floor as the Alpha King.
They stood at opposite ends of the chamber, two shadows carved from war and dominance, cloaked in opposite kinds of silence. Kael, in polished black armor with silver wolves embossed on his cuffs. The Lykan King—Rhydian—bare-chested beneath his fur-lined coat, his boots still stained with earth from the forests beyond the gates.
Neither spoke.
Not at first.
Until the great doors creaked open, and her scent entered before her body did.
Seraphina.
She moved without hurry, bare feet brushing against the stone. Her hair was half braided, half falling down her back like black silk touched with frost. She wore no jewels. No crown. Just a long white gown that clung to her frame like a second skin.
Two kings turned to her at once.
And she... did not look at either.
She walked to the center of the hall, stood between them, and let the silence steep.
Kael was the first to speak. His voice was sharp, tempered steel.
"You're entertaining visitors now?"
"I didn't invite him," she replied calmly. "He came."
Rhydian's voice followed, lower, rougher. "She didn't ask me to leave either."
The tension was immediate. Electric. Almost visible.
Kael took a step forward. "You crossed into my kingdom uninvited."
Rhydian didn't flinch. "Your kingdom trembled when I did."
"Do you think your name shields you?"
"I don't need my name," Rhydian growled. "I have her scent on my hands."
Seraphina's head tilted, slightly.
The air cracked.
Kael's hands balled into fists, knuckles white.
"Leave us," he ordered the guards at the edge of the hall. His voice never rose—but the tone was lethal.
They obeyed without hesitation.
Now, only the three of them remained.
The kings faced each other, both taut with restraint and rising fury, but neither daring to act with her between them.
Seraphina finally turned her head—first to Kael, then to Rhydian.
"You summoned me," she said, voice quiet but heavy. "And now you both want to keep me."
Neither denied it.
"I am not here to be passed between kings like a treaty bride," she continued. "I came because the moon pulled me. And now you're both burning under it."
Kael stepped closer, jaw tight. "I don't burn. I possess."
Rhydian's silver eyes flicked toward her. "I don't claim with words. I claim with instinct."
She moved past them both and ascended the dais where the twin thrones stood—one for the ruling Alpha, the other ceremonial, untouched for years.
She stood between them, looked down at both kings, and said:
"Then let instinct decide. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. When the moon chooses, so shall I."
Neither spoke.
---
The Grand Courtyard had never looked so dressed in blood and moonlight.
Silks of every kingdom's color draped from towering columns. Musicians plucked strings beneath lantern-lit archways. Omegas in glittering gowns fluttered like moths, each hoping tonight would crown them chosen.
It was the Luna Selection Ceremony, a tradition older than any crown. Once every generation, the unmated Alpha Kings observed the eligible omegas of noble bloodlines. It was spectacle disguised as diplomacy—a night of beauty, bidding, and strategy.
This year, no Luna would be chosen.
Not officially.
Because the moment Seraphina stepped into the courtyard, all eyes turned—not to the other omegas, but to her.
She wore silver—not gold, not white—silver, the color of the full moon and old magic. The fabric clung to her like breath, back open, the curve of her spine on display, hair cascading like spilled ink.
And she didn't walk in on a nobleman's arm.
She came alone.
Kael saw her first.
Across the length of the courtyard, his gaze locked onto her with the intensity of a warlord choosing a battlefield. His posture stiffened. His lips parted slightly. He hadn't seen her all day.
Then came Rhydian.
He appeared from the shadows as if summoned by the tension. No crown. No insignia. Just raw, silent force. When he saw her, his wolf surged forward behind his silver eyes—but his body remained still.
Seraphina moved like moonlight over water.
And she ignored them both.
Until the music changed.
A courtier approached her with a low bow. "May I escort you to the dance floor, my lady?"
Before she could answer, Kael appeared beside her.
"No need," he said curtly, his arm already offered. "She is my guest."
Seraphina arched a brow but accepted.
As they stepped onto the floor, all conversation stilled. The music slowed.
Kael pulled her close—not too close—and placed a hand on the small of her back.
"You're provoking him," he said under his breath.
"I haven't said a word to him," she replied.
"You don't have to."
Their bodies moved in elegant synchrony, but the tension beneath their skin made it feel like combat. His touch was hot. Controlled. But possessive.
"You shouldn't have worn silver," he said.
"Why?"
"Because it suits the moon. Not the court."
He spun her. Pulled her back.
Across the dance floor, Rhydian watched.
The next beat of the music slowed—and Kael leaned closer.
His breath brushed her ear. "You're mine tonight."
Before she could respond, the music ended.
But the silence was cut by a low growl.
Everyone turned.
Rhydian was already walking toward them.
And Seraphina... stepped back from Kael.
The Lykan King reached her without words. He didn't offer his hand.
He simply looked at her and said, "Dance with me."
It wasn't a request.
It wasn't a command.
It was... need.
And Seraphina, to the shock of the court—and the fury of Kael—nodded.
Rhydian took her in his arms, and the music began again.
Slower. Thicker. Almost sensual.
Kael's fists curled at his sides. He could feel it happening.
The crack in his control.
The flame in his blood.
He wanted to drag her away.
He wanted to destroy the man touching her.
He wanted to claim her in front of every eye in that courtyard.
And that was how he knew...
He was already losing.