Chapter 3 The Mating Ritual Begins

The sharp knock on the door startled Irwin from her fitful sleep. She blinked against the early morning light filtering through the small window, her heart thudding in her chest. Her mind had been consumed by the thoughts of the impending ceremony all night. The uncertainty. The fear. It all swirled in her head like a storm she couldn't escape.

"Lady Irwin," a deep voice called from outside the door. "It's time."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. "It's time." The ceremony. The binding. The event that would tie her fate to Dorian, the man who barely spared her a glance, and the pack that already resented her presence.

Irwin sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. She could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her. There was no avoiding it now. She had no choice.

The door creaked open, and two guards stepped inside, their faces as impassive as ever. Behind them, two servants entered, bowing slightly before speaking.

"Lady Irwin, we're here to help you prepare," one of the servants, a young woman with brown hair tied back neatly, said with a soft voice. "The ceremony is about to begin."

Irwin nodded numbly and slid out of bed, her legs shaky beneath her. "I don't need help," she mumbled, but the servants didn't listen. They moved around her quickly, and efficiently, picking out the ceremonial dress that had been laid out the night before.

"You'll want to look your best, my lady," one of the guards said, his tone flat but formal.

"Why?" Irwin muttered under her breath, but the servants continued their work without reacting to her words.

One of the servants helped her into the heavy ceremonial robe, its silver and black fabric making her feel even more trapped. Every layer they added felt like another chain pulling her deeper into the fate she hadn't chosen.

As they pulled her long, dark hair into an elegant braid, the other servant spoke softly. "It won't be so bad, Lady Irwin."

Irwin gave a weak smile, knowing the words were meant to comfort her. But nothing could ease the weight in her chest. "I hope you're right."

Once dressed, she stood before the mirror. The reflection staring back at her was unfamiliar distant. Her usually bright blue eyes looked dull, her face pale against the dark colors of the robe.

The guard at the door cleared his throat. "It's time, my lady."

Irwin's stomach twisted as she stepped toward the door. The guards fell into step behind her, and the servants bowed and followed as well. As they walked through the long, cold corridors, Irwin's heart pounded louder with every step.

They reached the great hall, where the ceremony would take place, and the heavy wooden doors were already opened. Inside the ceremonial hall, the atmosphere was cold and heavy, just as it had been when she arrived at the stronghold. She could feel the eyes of the pack on her as she entered. Their whispers, their judgments, surrounded her like a suffocating fog.

And there, at the far end of the room, stood Dorian.

He was dressed in the same ceremonial robes, dark and imposing, but his expression was unreadable. He stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest, his face set in a hard, emotionless mask.

"He looks as indifferent as ever," Irwin thought bitterly. "Does he even care about any of this? About me?"

The elder standing between them raised a hand, silencing the whispers in the room. "We gather here to witness the binding of Irwin and Dorian, a union that will join our pack with forces beyond our understanding."

Irwin took her place beside Dorian, trying to keep her hands from shaking. She stole a glance at him, but he didn't look at her. His gaze was fixed ahead, his jaw clenched tightly.

They were so close, yet he felt miles away.

As the elder continued speaking, Irwin felt the pressure building. The weight of the ceremony, the cold indifference from Dorian. It all threatened to suffocate her.

"You're nervous," Dorian's voice whispered, low and barely audible to anyone but her.

Irwin's heart skipped a beat. It was the first time he had acknowledged her since she entered the hall. She turned her head slightly, her voice quiet but sharp. "I'm not nervous. I just don't know what to expect from this... arrangement."

He didn't respond immediately, his eyes still forward. "Neither do I."

His words, though simple, unsettled her. She had expected him to remain aloof, but there was something else in his tone. Something guarded.

"You don't seem nervous at all," she whispered back.

Irwin's voice laced with sarcasm. "It must be nice to be so unaffected."

Dorian's eyes flicked toward her for a fraction of a second, his expression hardening even more. "This isn't about feelings, Irwin. It's about duty."

His words cut through her like a knife. "Duty." That's all this was to him like some necessary obligation. Her heart ached, but she refused to let him see it. She turned her attention back to the elder, focusing on his droning voice.

"Join hands."

The elder's command rang through the hall, echoing in Irwin's ears. Her body tensed, knowing what was coming next. Her hands felt clammy as she slowly raised them, extending her palm toward Dorian.

For the first time, Dorian's eyes locked onto hers. There was something there, something beyond the cold mask he always wore. But it was fleeting, and before she could make sense of it, he took her hand

The moment their skin touched, it was like lightning struck..