Eve's wrists throbbed as the tight ropes were hastily cut away, leaving angry red marks on her skin. Two guards grabbed her arms and dragged her off the platform before she could protest further.
The crowd cheered loudly, their desire for excitement clear, but a fierce growl from Damian silenced them right away.
"Take her to the dungeons," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. His silver eyes met hers for a moment before he looked away, his jaw clenched, as if he was struggling to keep himself composed.
Eve struggled against the guards as they hauled her through a narrow stone corridor leading to the castle's depths. "Hey! I didn't agree to this! Where's my lawyer? I demand to speak to someone in charge!" she yelled, her voice echoing off the cold, damp walls.
The guards didn't respond, shoving her into a dimly lit cell and slamming the iron bars shut. She stumbled but caught herself, glaring at their retreating backs. "Cowards," she muttered under her breath.
She had whispered it to herself but to her surprise, they turned immediately, their eyes shining a different color, stealing the breath from her lungs. "Cowards? You should be thankful the prince deems you fit as his mate, you disgrace of a werewolf."
"Bloody witch," the other sneered before they turned around and left.
The silence of the dungeon was deafening after the chaos above. She leaned against the cold stone wall, her mind racing.
"What just happened?" she whispered to herself. "Execution? Werewolves? Mates?" She shook her head, her tangled hair falling into her face. "This has to be a dream… or some really twisted hallucination."
But the cold seeping into her skin and the faint smell of mildew told her otherwise.
This was real.
Somehow, she wasn't in her lab anymore.
She wasn't even in her own world.
Her breaths came faster as panic clawed at her throat, but then, just as suddenly, a strange calmness washed over her. A presence stirred deep within her, one that wasn't there before.
"Finally awake, are we?" a voice purred inside her mind.
Eve froze, her heart hammering. "Who's there?" she asked aloud, spinning around the empty cell.
"Relax, darling. It's me—your wolf."
"My what?" she demanded, gripping the wall for support.
"Your wolf, Relia. Well, technically, not yours. This body's wolf. But since you've decided to drop in uninvited, I guess we're stuck together." The voice was distinctly feminine, dripping with sass. "And might I say, you've caused quite the mess."
Eve's knees gave out, and she slid to the floor. "This can't be happening," she whispered. "Wolves don't talk."
"Oh, honey, you have so much to learn." The wolf's voice softened slightly. "But first, let's clear something up. You're not Evelina Drewstone, are you?"
Eve shook her head. "No, I'm… I was Evelyn Matthews. A scientist. There was a fire, and—" She stopped, her voice breaking. "I don't know how I got here."
"Well, I'm Aurelia and you're in Evelina's body now. And thanks to the mate bond, we're linked to that brooding prince upstairs." The wolf sighed dramatically. "Talk about bad timing."
Before Eve could respond, memories flooded her mind—Evelina's memories.
They came in sharp bursts: her childhood in the pack, her strained relationship with Damian, her desperation to win his approval. The accusation that led to her arrest.
Eve gasped, clutching her head. "It's too much," she groaned.
"Breathe through it," the wolf advised. "You need to understand this world if you're going to survive."
The memories slowed, leaving Eve shaken but more aware.
She had an idea of werewolves, packs, and the bond that connected mates but she used to think they were all myths or legends.
But in this world, they were real.
Then one terrifying truth settled over her: Evelina had indeed been accused of trying to poison Damian.
A faint click pulled her attention to the cell door. She looked up to find Damian standing there, his imposing figure blocking the dim torchlight.
His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made her stomach flip.
"I see you've settled in," he said coldly, stepping into the cell.
Eve pushed herself to her feet, forcing a glare. "If this is your idea of hospitality, you're failing miserably."
Damian's lips twitched, though it wasn't quite a smile. "Bold, considering your situation."
"My situation?!" she snapped, taking a step closer. "I woke up tied to a platform with a mob chanting for my death! Forgive me if I'm not bowing at your feet."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Stop playing games, Evelina."
"I'm not Evelina!" she shot back, the words leaving her before she could think.
Damian's expression darkened, and he closed the distance between them in two swift strides.
Before she could react, he pinned her against the wall, his hands bracketing her head. The rough stone scraped her back, but it was nothing compared to the jolt that ran through her at the contact.
The mate bond suddenly came to life, feeling intense and powerful, almost like a strong electrical charge. Her breath hitched as warmth spread through her, pooling low in between her legs.
Her wolf practically purred in her mind. "Well, hello there."
"Stop lying," Damian growled, his face inches from hers. "You've been scheming for years. What are you up to this time?"
Eve glared up at him, though her body betrayed her, leaning into his heat. "Scheming? Are you insane? What would I gain from poisoning you?!"
Damian's eyes narrowed, his breath hot against her skin. "You tell me."
The tension between them crackled like a live wire. Eve's heart raced, her anger and confusion mixing with something much more dangerous.
She hated how her body responded to him, how the bond made her want to lean closer when she should be shoving him away.
"Maybe you poisoned yourself and blamed me," she shot back. "Because the proof you have against me is baseless and inconclusive."
For a moment, he looked genuinely surprised, then his lips twitched again, this time in what might have been amusement.
His wolf's voice nudged at the edges of his mind. "She's making sense. Admit it."
"She's just a better liar this time," Damian muttered under his breath, though even to himself, the words lacked conviction.
Eve rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Do I look like someone who planned an elaborate assassination attempt? I was literally tied to a post being pelted with eggs. Trust me, if I had a master plan, that wasn't part of it."
For a moment, Damian's lips twitched, as if he were fighting back a smirk. But his wolf's insistent voice broke through his thoughts again. "She's not lying. You can feel it. The bond doesn't lie."
Damian clenched his fists, his frustration evident. "If you didn't try to poison me, then who did? And who's trying to frame you?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.
Eve hesitated, swallowing hard. She had no answer to that—she didn't know who was behind this. "Someone who clearly wants you dead," she said sarcastically. "But if you'd like to keep accusing me of crimes I didn't commit, by all means, continue. It's been a real joy."
The corner of Damian's mouth twitched again, but his expression quickly hardened. "You have a sharp tongue for someone in chains."
"I'd say it's the least I can do, considering," she shot back, crossing her arms. "And I thought you were supposed to trust your mate or whatever. Pfft… mate my foot."
Her words struck him hard, and his eyes grew dark as his wolf reacted to the careless disregard for their connection. "Careful," he warned, his tone cold. "You're testing my patience."
Eve raised an eyebrow. "Your patience? Try walking a mile in my shoes, Your Highness. One minute, I'm minding my business, and the next, I'm in a medieval nightmare being accused of attempted murder. So forgive me if I'm not groveling at your feet."
Damian stared at her with a stoic expression. The quiet stretched, and the tension between them was clear. Finally, he took a step back, as if needing distance from the woman who challenged him at every turn.
Eve sagged against the wall as he moved back, her legs weak. She hated the way her body betrayed her, the way her pulse still thundered from his touch.
"I believe you," he said at last.
Eve blinked, stunned by the admission. "You… do?"
"Don't get used to it," he added, straightening. "But you'll have to prove your innocence. And don't think for a second that this means I'm accepting you as my mate."
Eve snorted, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at her lips. "Trust me, the feeling's mutual."
Damian's silver eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, as if there was something unspoken between them.
Without saying anything else, he turned and walked out of the cell, leaving Eve alone again. She leaned back against the wall, her mind racing with everything that had just happened.
The mate bond still pulsed gently in her bloodstream, a constant reminder of the connection she didn't want but couldn't ignore. "Well, this is going to be fun," her wolf chuckled.
Eve sighed. "Yeah, so much fun," she mumbled, rubbing her temples. "What on earth have I gotten myself into?"
"My Prince, can you please explain what just happened? How can she be your mate?"
The question broke the heavy silence in the throne room. Council members, dressed in ceremonial robes, looked at each other with concern.
Damian, sitting on the largest of the three thrones, leaned back and gripped the armrests tightly, trying to steady his racing thoughts.
"That," Damian said in a calm but irritated voice, "is a question better directed to the Moon Goddess than to me."
His mentor and the Beta of the kingdom, Lord Luther—the same man who had ordered the execution—was the one who had spoken. His father, the Alpha King, was away on matters of great importance so the fate of the kingdom was on him.
An elder spoke up. "My Prince, Evelina Drewstone was accused of treason. How can you be certain she has not used witchcraft to fake the mate bond? Surely, this is a ploy to escape justice."
Damian's jaw tensed, his wolf snarling at the accusation. "Do you consider me foolish?" His voice cut through the murmurs. "I felt the bond as clearly as I feel the blood in my veins. That is not something one can fake."
Luther stepped forward. "Damian, you know as well as I do that the timing is... convenient. Evelina has always been cunning. If she's truly guilty, releasing her—even temporarily—would be a grave risk."
Damian met Luther's gaze head-on. "And if she's innocent?"
"Then let the truth reveal itself in time," Luther countered. "But not at the cost of your safety or the pack's."
Whispers erupted among them. Words like witchcraft and treachery floated through the air, adding to the noticeable tension.
Damian stood up from his throne, and everyone fell silent. "Enough," he growled, his eyes flashing red briefly. "I understand your concerns. Believe me, I have no intention of jeopardising the pack. But I will not condemn my mate without giving her the chance to prove her innocence."
"Your Highness," another council member interjected in a shaky voice, "what if she uses that chance to harm you? She could try to kill you again."
Damian's lips curled into a grim smile. "Let her try. I'll handle it."
Luther's brows furrowed, showing his worry. "I've known you since you were a boy. You are wise beyond your years. But you cannot let emotion cloud your judgment. This isn't just about you, Damian. It's about the pack. Every decision you make has consequences for all of us."
Damian stepped forward, his silver eyes locking onto Luther's. "And as your future Alpha King, I take responsibility for those decisions. Evelina is my mate, and by the laws of our kind, that bond demands a chance. I will vouch for her."
The room fell silent as Damian's words settled over them.
"She's my mate," Damian continued. "And I take full responsibility for her actions moving forward. If she's guilty, I'll deal with her myself. But until then, she stays alive."
The council glanced nervously. Finally, one of the elders spoke in a cautious tone. "How long will you give her to prove her innocence?"
Damian considered this for a moment. "One moon cycle. If she cannot prove her innocence by then, I will carry out the execution myself."
A collective gasp rippled through the room, but Damian's expression remained stoic.
Luther stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You're taking a huge risk, Damian. Are you sure about this?"
"Very certain."
Luther, though visibly displeased, inclined his head slightly. "If that is your decision, my Prince, then so be it. But know that the council will be watching closely."
"Good," Damian replied curtly, his eyes locking with Luther's in a silent challenge. "Then you'll see what I already know: she is not the enemy here."
The council members exchanged glances, hesitant but ultimately bowing to his authority.
One by one, they filed out of the throne room, their murmurs fading into the distance. Luther was the only one who stayed behind, looking worried.
"Damian," he said softly, now that they were alone, "you are taking a big risk."
"Every choice worth making carries risk," Damian replied. "But I won't condemn an innocent woman to death because of fear and doubt. Not without proof."
Luther hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. I'll stand by you, as I always have. But be careful. Trust is fragile, especially when it's given so freely."
Damian watched as his mentor walked away before taking a deep breath. He turned to the large windows in the throne room.
"She's your mate," his wolf said in his mind. "You did what was right."
"I hope so, Storm," Damian muttered under his breath.
He had barely finished those words when his manservant burst into the room with a panicked expression. "Your Highness!" he exclaimed, bowing hurriedly. "Lady Selene is in the dungeons. She's... she's torturing the prisoner—I mean, your mate, sire!"
Damian froze for half a second, as if trying to make sense of the servant's words. His wolf surged forward and a low growl rumbled in his throat. "What did you just say, Jasper?"
Jasper swallowed nervously. "She went down there moments ago. The guards... they didn't stop her. She claimed she had your permission."
Without another word, Damian stormed from the throne room.
*******************
A Few Minutes Earlier in the Dungeon
Eve paced her cell, her mind racing. The conversation with Damian still buzzed in her ears, her wolf's voice occasionally chiming in with unhelpful commentary.
"You know, for a guy who just accused us of poisoning him, he's surprisingly protective," her wolf mused.
"Protective? He threatened to execute me!" Eve hissed aloud.
The wolf chuckled. "Details, details."
Eve groaned, running a hand through her tangled hair. "This is a nightmare. Execution. Dungeon. Werewolf mate. Great vacation so far."
Her wolf huffed in amusement. "You're handling this better than I expected."
"Don't start," Eve muttered. "You're part of the reason I'm in this mess."
"Correction: you're the one who got dropped into this body. I'm just trying to keep us alive."
Before Eve could lose herself in her troubling thoughts, the sound of high heels clicking against the cold stone floor caught her attention. She looked up, her heart racing, as a woman stepped in front of her cell.
The woman was tall and elegant, dressed in a flowing crimson gown that looked far too luxurious for the dark and damp dungeon.
She looked confident, with a scowl on her face and shiny golden hair. Her cold green eyes focused on Eve with both amusement and anger.
"Well," the woman said smoothly, her voice dripping with malice as her eyes glowed briefly, "so you're the witch who tried to poison my betrothed."
Eve blinked, her confusion quickly giving way to irritation. "And who are you?" she asked with raised eyebrows.
The woman's expression changed instantly. With a quick pull, she yanked open the cell door. Eve barely had a moment to respond before the woman's hand lashed out.
The slap came hard and fast, stinging Eve's cheek so badly that it made her head whip to the side.
The shock of it held her in place as the woman leaned in closer with a threatening voice. "I didn't remember asking a question, witch."
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