Luna’s Fate: The Last Silver Werewolf

Torrent's inner storm raged as he watched a line of ten women—each more beautiful and alluring than the last—stand before him. Despite their varied, and increasingly irritating, attempts to catch his attention, his relaxed posture never faltered.

Their skirts swept the floor in unison as they curtsied. "Long may you reign, Liege Torrent, first of his name," their sweet voices chorused in harmony

For a moment, Torrent was impressed. He considered how much they must have rehearsed to create such a synchronized display. Then he grunted at the thought, slightly unsettled.

"They're all so pretty, but I don't feel a thing," Bale whined in his mind.

"Hush," Torrent snapped through their telepathic link. "Be patient."

Bale growled, but fell silent a moment later.

George, go ahead," Torrent ordered, but the words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

George stood frozen, eyes glazed in a lustful trance as he stared at the girls before them.

Torrent noticed. He cleared his throat sharply, but George remained unmoved—completely lost to the world. The girls giggled at the attention.

"Smack his head," Bale growled through their telepathic link. "He shouldn't be gawking at women prepared for us like that."

"No, Bale. I have a better idea," Torrent replied with a smirk. Then, without another word, he released his pheromones.

The invisible haze flooded the room, thick and intoxicating, crashing into the senses of everyone present. One by one, they dropped to their knees. The girls' eyes dilated, their hands slowly trailing their bodies in rising desire.

The guards, the servants—even George—began clawing at their necks, gasping for air, their lust overwhelming their reason.

"My liege… I— I can't breathe," George croaked, voice strained and trembling.

Bale laughed maniacally in Torrent's mind, thoroughly entertained.

"Way better than smacking him," he cackled.

Torrent's eyes gleamed with amusement—until the girls' moans pierced through the haze, growing louder, messier, unrestrained. Someone had gone too far. Their desire had been triggered.

With a heavy sigh, Torrent withdrew his pheromones. The haze dissipated instantly. Around the throne room, gasps of relief echoed from every corner.

My apologies, my Liege," George said, bowing slightly.

Wise man, Torrent thought dryly.

"Next time, don't irritate me and make others suffer for it," Torrent growled.

"Yes, yes, my Liege," George muttered as he adjusted his tunic. The girls fidgeted, struggling to compose themselves, though desire still lingered across their faces.

Torrent raised a lazy brow at George, who took the cue and turned to address the group.

"Ladies," he began with forced formality, "I deeply apologize for the disturbance. But let this serve as a reminder—insolence and disrespect are not tolerated in our Liege's court." He grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the reprimand.

Torrent kept his gaze cool, watching George press on.

"You all know why you're here. You are of age—and one of you may very well be his destined mate."

A wave of giggles and hushed whispers swept through the girls.

Torrent sighed and grimaced at their barely contained excitement.

"Here's how it will go," George continued, voice steadying. "Each of you will step forward, introduce yourself, and your wolf. You may transform if you wish. Our Liege will know if you are the one."

The girls lit up with eager smiles.

"Let's begin."

A brunette stepped forward first, all poise and bright smiles. "My name is Ari, and my wolf is—" She shifted mid sentence, brown fur rippling across her skin until a four foot wolf stood where the woman had been. The wolf tilted its head back and howled. A blink later Ari was human again—naked, cheeks flushed. "That was my wolf, Noe," she finished with a quick curtsy.

Gasps rippled down the line of women. Transformation had been permitted, but Torrent hadn't expected anyone to commit so boldly. Ari intended to claim the role of mate—and had just dared the rest to match her.

Torrent sniffed, grunted, and motioned to a servant. A robe was draped over Ari as she was escorted out, disappointment plain on her face.

Two plainer candidates followed. Their introductions and shifts were so unremarkable that Torrent yawned. The second girl departed in tears.

Meanie, Bale laughed in Torrent's mind. Torrent smirked—until the next woman stepped forward.

She was a strawberry blonde with startling blue eyes. Torrent's pulse spiked; his wolf growled, dragging him forward in his seat.

Hope this one shifts too, Bale said eagerly.

Pervert, Torrent muttered back, though he caught himself licking his lips. He could claim any of these women, but he wasn't ready for the fallout. Still, there was no harm in enjoying the show.

"My Liege," she murmured, bowing, "may I come closer?" Her voice was velvet soft.

Torrent, grateful for the distraction, signaled her forward.

My name is Daphne," she announced, striding confidently toward Torrent seated on the throne. "My father is a chief—one of your clan leaders." Her eyes gleamed with pride.

Torrent's gaze followed her every move, mildly intrigued, even a little mesmerized.

As she advanced, her body began to shift—arms first, then feet, then the rest of her form rippling into that of a wolf.

Without warning, she lunged at him, fangs bared, aiming straight for his throat.

But Torrent was faster.

He caught her jaw mid-air with one powerful hand, snapping it shut. His eyes locked onto hers, now wide with shock.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, then hurled her down the steps of the throne like she weighed nothing.

She hit the ground with a grunt, shifting back to human on impact.

Torrent rose slowly, towering over her. "I asked you a question," he said—his voice calm, but deadly.

She groaned, struggling to stand. A low growl from Tristan froze her. She dropped to her knees instead.

"I'm your mate," she gasped. "You won't believe it because you're afraid. Let me mark you—you'll see." Her eyes shimmered with desperation... and something unhinged.

Torrent's frown deepened. "No. You're not. I would know."

She shrieked in frustration and lunged at him again.

Without hesitation, Torrent unleashed a wave of concentrated pheromones—targeted solely at her.

Her body buckled mid-charge. She collapsed to the floor, trembling, still trying to resist him.

But Torrent's power held her down. And there was no denying now—whatever she was, she wasn't his mate.

Tch—beautiful and crazy. Pass, Bale remarked as guards restrained her moments later.

"My Liege, I'm yours! I'm your mate—don't let them take me!" she shrieked while being dragged away.

George bowed low. "My apologies, sire. Had I gathered more information—"

Torrent's gaze was stone-cold, but he dismissed the apology with a sharp wave.

"You would've known if one of my chiefs sent his deranged daughter," he muttered. "Enough. Find out who her father is."

He turned back to the line of girls and returned to his throne with a heavy sigh.

"Let's finish this. Next."

The girl who stepped forward next was visibly trembling.

"M-my name is Alex," she began, voice shaky. "And my wolf is called Bailey. I... I wish I could shift, but I'm not yet in full control of her."

She looked up at Torrent with wide, hopeful eyes, silently pleading for mercy—or perhaps understanding.

But Torrent's thoughts were already elsewhere—back at the boundary alarm that morning. Has Rain's team contained it? Was it truly a rogue or merely a disrupted seal? He should be there, not indulging the council's pageant.

At least we're seeing pretty naked girls, Bale offered as another woman shifted into a grey wolf.

"Enough!" Torrent roared, rising from the dais. "None of these women is my mate. This is a waste of my time." He strode from the hall without a backward glance.

"My mate is still out there," he muttered, breaking into a run. In the next heartbeat, he surrendered control to Bale, and together they plunged into the forest.