My Mate Poisoned Me for His Mistress

The poison was supposed to kill my wolf. Instead, it was making her vicious.

Every night, while the packhouse slept, she clawed at the walls of my chest. She was starving, bruised, and drowning in wolfsbane, but she was growing fractionally stronger. With that strength came a wild, reckless heat that I could barely keep inside my skin.

It almost ruined everything at two in the morning.

Healer Vance had slipped into my room for the midnight check, the scent of stale coffee clinging to his scrubs. He walked over to the IV stand, humming tunelessly under his breath.

Right then, without warning, my wolf surged.

It was like a sudden arc of electricity through my veins. Before I could clamp down on my muscles, my right hand twitched. My fingers curled violently, dragging hard against the cotton coverlet, gathering the sheet into a tight bunch.

Vance froze.

The humming died in his throat. I felt his sudden, sharp gaze drop to my hand.

Panic flooded my throat, bitter and cold. *Still. Go dead.*

Vance set his clipboard on the bedside table. His heavy boots creaked as he took a step closer, leaning his face down until his sour breath washed over my cheek. He stared at my curled fingers, then reached out and pressed two calloused fingers against the pulse point at my wrist.

*One, two, slow and deep,* I chanted silently in the dark cavern of my skull, fighting the thrashing beast inside me. *Quiet river, go to sleep.*

My heart slowed, dragging itself down to an unnatural, sluggish crawl.

Vance stood there for ten agonizing seconds. He picked up my limp hand, turned it over, and let it fall. It landed flat against the mattress like lead.

He let out a short, dismissive grunt.

"Minor motor reflex," he mumbled to himself, tapping at his tablet screen with a stylus. "Involuntary. Non-conscious."

He reached up to the IV line, clicked the plastic roller clamp forward by two notches, and increased the drip. "Let's settle those nerves, Luna."

The freezing sting hit my blood instantly. The room fell silent as the door clicked shut behind him.

Under the sheets, a silent, internal tremble shook my bones. My wolf whined, curled tight against the fresh wave of poison, but my core burned with cold sweat. The margin for error was shrinking to nothing. If Vance had looked at my pupils, if I had flinched even a second later, he would have called Cash.

They would have ended me right there on the bed.

***

Two nights later, the wind shifted.

My bedroom window had been cracked open an inch to clear the medicinal smell, letting in the damp, pine-heavy night air. Down the hall, the door to Cash’s private study stood ajar, and his window was open too.

To human ears, the distance was too far. But to my sharpened wolf hearing, their voices floated across the dark courtyard as clear as glass.

"Alpha Darian's legal delegation delivered the final draft," Cash said. I heard the crisp snap of thick parchment unfolding on his heavy oak desk. "The territory alliance contract is ready for ceremonial sealing."

"And the terms?" Aubrey asked. Her voice was right beside him.

"Perfect," Cash replied, a low purr of satisfaction vibrating in his chest. "Once the public ceremony begins, we stand before the allied Alphas and formally invoke the mate bond. The law requires witnesses to see the bond acknowledged before the treaty becomes binding. Silvercrest guarantees our eastern borders, and Ironveil gets logging rights through the valley."

"And Zuri?" Aubrey’s tone took on a sharp, possessive edge.

"She won't survive the week after," Cash said smoothly, without a shred of hesitation. "The strain of the ceremony on her 'failing heart' will be the official cause. Vance has the medical logs prepared. Clean. Tragic."

Footsteps moved across the study floorboards. Fabric rustled.

"The pack will mourn," Cash continued, his tone softening into that oily, rehearsed intimacy he used when buying someone’s silence. "We hold a state funeral. Then, before the elders can start asking questions about succession or pack stability, I announce you as my chosen Luna."

"You promised me, Cash," Aubrey whispered. A faint, wet sound followed—the slide of skin on skin. I could picture her pressing her palm flat against the swollen puncture of the second-mate mark on her neck. "I've kept a record of every single promise you've made me. Every text. Every date."

Cash gave a low, dismissive chuckle. "You won't need it, sweetheart."

*Fool,* my wolf snarled in my head. *He will throw you away the moment you stop being useful.*

***

The house went dead quiet by three in the morning.

I lay in the shadows, listening to the steady, maddening drip of the IV. I couldn't afford another involuntary spasm. I couldn't let my wolf act out on instinct. I needed complete command over every nerve, every breath.

Slowly, fighting the heaviness in my limbs, I commanded my right arm to move.

A sharp, tearing ache flared in my shoulder, but my hand inched upward millimeter by millimeter across my chest. My fingers found the thin leather cord around my neck. Tangled in the collar of my gown was Parker’s pendant—the carved wolf claw he had worn into battle.

My thumb caught the loop. With a tiny, desperate jerk of my wrist, the old knot gave way.

The pendant slid down into my palm.

For the first time since I woke from the ambush, I closed my hand. I made a fist. A deliberate, intentional fist.

The curved edge of the polished claw bit deep into my flesh, sharp and grounding. The pain was real. It was clean. It cut right through the fog of the wolfsbane.

All through the dark hours, I held it tight. Every time my wolf clawed inside me, fighting to break out, I squeezed the claw harder until the sting anchored us both. When the surge passed, I released the pressure by a fraction. I matched my heartbeat to the lullaby, pulling the reins on my own biology.

By the time the first pale gray light of dawn touched the window sill, the chaotic surges were gone. In their place was something cold, disciplined, and razor-sharp.

Deep within my chest, my wolf lifted her head. Her golden eyes burned through the dark.

*We are almost ready,* she whispered.

I tightened my fingers around my brother's claw one last time before slipping it beneath my pillow.

*Not yet,* I told her, staring up at the white ceiling. *Wait for the ceremony. Wait for the audience.*