“Has their Alpha chosen her?”
Elowen blinked innocently. “I don’t even know him…” Then turned to me with that saccharine smile. “Lyra, you’re not still bidding, are you? I’d hate for you to empty your vault.”
My nails dug into my palms.
Kael didn’t so much as glance at me. His eyes were fixed entirely on her.
And the evening descended into humiliation.
Each time a new gown appeared, or a jeweled necklace, or a rare moonstone ring—the Beta outbid everyone. Each time, the treasure went to Elowen.
At last, I faced him. “Tell me, does your Alpha intend to leave anything for the rest of us?”
He flicked a glance toward Kael. “Our Alpha only cares for the Second Miss’s happiness. The rest of you are irrelevant.”
The words struck harder than I expected.
Kael smiled—smiled—at Elowen like she was divinity incarnate. I had to fight the urge to bare my teeth.
When the gala ended, Elowen stood amid the glow of admiration, radiant and adored.
I slipped out quietly, invisible again.
I climbed into the car and snapped, “Bloodmoon Club. Now.”
I needed something to burn. Liquor. Music. Anything that drowned thought.
Before the driver could move, Elowen slid in beside me, still smiling. “Sister, I’m coming too! You always know how to have fun.”
I nearly shoved her out. But Kael appeared, hand on the door. “Drive,” he said calmly.
I clenched my jaw.
As the car moved, she filled the air with chatter. “Isn’t it strange? The Alpha of Luminara Pack keeps sending gifts. I’ve never even met him! They say he’s devastatingly handsome.”
Kael chuckled. “That’s because he’s taken a liking to you. You’re… different.”
Then came her coy little question. “Do you like me too, Kael?”
He hesitated, searching for an answer. I didn’t give him the chance.
“If you two plan to flirt,” I said, voice cold as steel, “get out. This is my car.”
Elowen pouted, murmuring a soft “sorry,” all innocence and feigned guilt.
I turned toward the window—and in the reflection, I saw it.
His gaze on her, warm and tender.
Then it shifted to me. Cold. Hollow. Disgusted.
I smiled bitterly. So this was what men wanted—fragile tones, trembling lashes, and the illusion of sweetness.
Nothing like me.
Lyra’s POV