The Pyrehowl's Decree

Zarek.

I was seventeen when the heavy, blood-soaked mantle of Alpha was forced onto my shoulders. I was young, but I carried the brutal burden of my Wyrm-Clan lineage without a single word of complaint. For ten long, grueling years, my inner wolf, Vargon, remained dormant. During every mating season, the elders paraded females before me, hoping for a spark, but Vargon showed nothing but cold indifference. Their scents were useless, forgettable.

I didn't care. My dominance on the battlefield was unquestioned, and my fire kept our enemies at bay. I ruled through fear, and the packs in the metro bowed to me without a Luna by my side. But the ancient elders of the council grew restless, practically foaming at the mouth for an heir to secure our dynasty.

The seers brought me a prophecy. It was explicit: only a woman born of the pure Briarwild bloodline possessed the biological resilience to endure the scorching heat of my fire and safely vessel my powerful heirs. To find her, I ordered every female with Briarwild blood to be brought before me. More than a hundred terrified, trembling candidates passed through my hall, but Vargon never stirred.

Until she was dragged in, bound in chains.

She was ethereal, broken, yet she radiated a fierce, untamed energy. Her delicate beauty struck my chest like a heavy blow. Pale skin, dark eyes sharp as ice, and hair that fell in waves as black as raven feathers. I was a man of immense pride, but even I had to admit her presence demanded attention.

Yet, my pride quickly turned to disgust when I recalled her history. She was a divorced woman, discarded by that weakling Alpha Voktor, carrying the filthy brand of a cheater. Every instinct in my territorial body refused to accept or touch what had already belonged to someone else, let alone a woman who had betrayed her own bond.

But the elders demanded a test. I stepped forward, gripping her jaw, and sank my elongated fangs deep into the soft, pulsing skin of her neck to test her blood.

The instant my teeth pierced her flesh, my world shifted.

The taste of her blood roared through my veins like wildfire, igniting a primal, explosive possessiveness I had never known. My eyes burned gold, and my heart hammered against my ribs. My hands shook as I pulled back, trying to master the sudden heat tearing through me.

In the depths of my mind, Vargon woke with a savage roar.

*Mate,* he spoke, the heavy word resonating in my soul. It was a truth I could not physically deny, no matter how much my logic screamed against it.

The massive stone hall erupted into sheer chaos.

"She is the future Luna!" the wrinkly elders cheered, throwing their hands into the air in celebration.

Vaelia stumbled backward, clutching her bleeding neck in horror. A dark, hot blush rushed to her tear-stained cheeks, a mix of terror and shame coloring her face.

"Where are the certificates of your divorce?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the noise like a serrated blade as I turned my cold gaze to Alpha Voktor.

Voktor shifted on his feet, looking between me and his ex-wife. "My lawyers are processing it with the Syndicate of Bonds. The judge decreed it. We just need to sign."

"Deliver the final, legally binding papers into my hands tomorrow," I growled, "and your pack's debts are wiped clean."

"No!" Vaelia screamed, her voice cracking as she frantically backed away from my guards. "I will play no part in any of this!"

She tried to run, but her legs were already trembling. The raw power of my bite was coursing through her small frame, acting as a scorching poison to her unaccustomed body. The supernatural connection seared hot as our wolves forced themselves to merge.

"Stay back, you viper!" she cried out, her eyes wide with unadulterated terror.

Her knees buckled under the dizzying, heavy weight of my venom. Before her head could smack against the unforgiving stone floor, I sprinted forward, my thigh muscles bunching, and caught her.

I held her surprisingly weightless, soft body against my hard chest. In my mind, Vargon purred, revealing her name.

*Vaelia.*

*She is our vessel. She is our mate,* he insisted, clawing at the edges of my sanity.

When I stubbornly refused to accept her tainted past, Vargon defied my authority.

*This time, I will make you.*

Later, in the quiet of the war room, I faced the council of elders. Vaelia was resting nearby under the reluctant, sour care of Myra—my childhood friend and long-time bedmate.

"She just needs rest," Myra said, entering the room and closing the heavy oak door behind her. "She will be awake in a few hours."

"When she wakes, we will address her," Kord, the oldest elder, muttered.

"No," I declared, slamming my fists onto the map table. The wood groaned under the force. "I am not choosing her."

"What?" The elders spoke in unison, their voices echoing off the cold stone walls.

"We all witnessed the bond, Zarek! The Moon Goddess has spoken. She is your fated mate!" Elder Brida hissed, slamming her wooden staff against the ground to emphasize her outrage.

"How do you expect me to bond with a woman who wasn't even loyal to her last husband?" I snarled, unleashing a low, threatening growl that made the room vibrate. "She cheated on Voktor, and he threw her out like trash. You are asking me to take another weak man’s discarded, used filth into my bed? I am the Alpha. I am the absolute law. I will not be a second-chance mate for a woman who is fundamentally unworthy of standing beside me!"

"You need a Luna to maintain your standing and secure the pack's future," Galdor, the quietest elder, countered, though his voice shook under my intense gaze.

"Fine. Then I will seat Myra on the throne instead," I offered coldly.

"You blaspheme!" Brida screamed, her outrage shaking her frail, old frame. The tension in the room spiked, thick and suffocating. She pointed a gnarled, shaking finger at me. "You and Myra can do whatever you want in the dark, but the seat of Luna belongs to the Briarwild. Unless you are ready to incite a bloody rebellion and battle the entire pack, she will take the throne we have waited ten years to fill. Until then, there will be a mandatory bonding ceremony."

I didn't dignify her threat with a verbal response. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. I turned on my heel and walked past Myra, pausing only to deliberately brush my knuckles against her arm.

"See me. Tonight," I said directly into her ear.

As I strode down the dark corridor, a cold, calculated plan formed in my mind.

I am going to make this so-called mate of mine reject me. I will push her until she breaks. She will walk away on her own feet, severing the bond herself. And when she does, I won't have to lift a single finger or violate pack law to be permanently rid of her.