Rejecting the Alpha’s Crown

Our mating ceremony was only three days away. Julian, my fiancé, set two headpieces on the table. Both came from the pack's master blacksmith.

One was a heavy moonstone crown, the ultimate mark of Alpha power.

The other was just a cheap gold-plated band, shaped like a simple ring of leaves.

He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. I already knew the moonstone went to my twin sister, Stella.

Still, my fingers moved first. I pressed my palm flat against the moonstone crown. "Julian, I'm your fated mate. Don't I even deserve a real crown for our ceremony?"