Page 2

A few hours earlier.

I can't fully comprehend that this dreaded day has finally come.

I am standing in a hallway ready for the most important meeting of my life, all werewolves' lives, for that matter. We are doing this for them, and that thought is the only thing that keeps me together, and away from any escape ideas.

There are a lot of werewolves in the world hidden in plain sight alongside humans. Well, only on the Main Continent where real wolves exist and it's easier for us to hide. Even the most introverted of us don't want to be the lone wolf in the other habitable parts of Earth where only humans live. We thrive in packs under our Alphas' commands.

We are shifters from generation to generation, and no one knows how it started. How was the first werewolf made? Was it the Moon Goddess' pure creation? Was it just a result of an unfortunate bite of some mythic Lycan or a sick wolf? Was it anything like in the movies that humans make for their entertainment?

They don't know we exist. It's the ignorance they have chosen for themselves. They used to know—way before all the modern technology was even invented, but they no longer believe in fairytales like this anymore. 'Too smart for that.'

Good for us.

Alphas, the strongest of werewolves, are natural leaders who ensure we all have good and safe lives. If any werewolf threatens that, they can face the worst punishment. Exile over the border. They become the filthy, unwanted rogue without the pack to help keep their sanity .

At least that was the case before the worst of the exiled—the ones with pure alpha-blood meant to protect us wolves—started gluing themselves together into one big, broken pack of traitors who started hurting us instead.

And now I was about to marry one of them . The worst of them!

Nothing can calm the uneasiness in my tightened stomach I've felt since I realized I have to betray the one who is waiting with hope to meet me, his other half. He has no way of knowing we were brutally robbed of our happily-ever-after.

My whole life, I had been waiting to see who my true Goddess-given mate would be. The one true soul-bonded love every werewolf is given once in a lifetime. That one person for whom your whole body and mind are tuned. That one person who makes everything make sense in your life—that one person who is perfectly made just for you.

I imagined. I dreamed. I wished. How perfect he is for me . How funny, smart, and strong he is. How attractive he is. How good it would feel to finally be his… No worries in the world because we would have each other, and that's the only thing that matters. Right? Only me, him, and maybe three little pups running around us with smiles on their just-like-daddy little faces.

But I've never had the chance to meet my true mate, and now I'm getting married to someone else. The enemy. The Rogue. The one I've never met either, but somehow hate more than anything in the whole wide world.

The last few weeks of waiting for the Rogues to come sign the proposed treaty have been pure torture for me. All the weird sympathetic looks I've gotten from my siblings and servants, complete silence from my inner true wolf self, all the tears my mother shed while begging my dad to find another way…

I knew he could not. It’s already going to hell even without modern means, but progress in technology will make it much worse. This arrangement is our last hope.

So, I spent these last few weeks praying passionately to the Moon Goddess to never meet my true mate. I would have to leave him for the good of my Kingdom anyway, which would hurt both of us unimaginably.

It's better to never have met.

I was chosen for this; he can't save me anymore. It's too late. I'm all we have to gamble.

My only consolation is that my true mate doesn’t know I’m with someone else and not waiting for him. He can think I’m dead instead of being a bond traitor.

I pick up the front of the ridiculous, long, dove-blue chiffon dress, with a sew-in bodice my father's advisers made me wear today and start running after him and his long legs down the corridor.

"Oh, sorry," Dad mumbles, looking at me over his shoulder, then slows down, "I thought you were already waiting by the doors."

"Nope."

"Don't swear in front of them," he says in a low, firm tone, not for the first time this week.

"I don't swear,” I say, running up after him.

He looks at me over his shoulder unamused—knowing in fact—I do swear like a soldier.

“Scared I forgot all the lessons you made me take?”

"Oh my Goddess, it was ten years ago. You will never let me live that down, will you?"

I finally catch up to him as he suddenly stops and shakes his head, looking down as if he isn't sure what we are even doing.

Well, that makes two of us, but it's too late to back out now. The Rogues are already here, and if I can believe my maid, there are a lot of them. Enough to fight.

She also said they are all very hot, but I swear she doesn't need much to say that. Everyone is hot, according to that girl.

"Come on, Your Majesty. If there ever is a situation when you cannot be late, it's now," I reach my hand to my father with a forced smile.

He ignores my hand and looks at me blankly. Fine, he can be late, but I won't be. I put my hand down with a sigh and start walking again.

"I can't believe my little girl is getting married like this," he whispers, quickly catching up with me.

"It's just a fake marriage. I'll be fine," I say. But to be honest, I can't stop thinking how not fine I have been since I heard about this whole nonsense for the first time a few weeks ago—at the meeting with the Rogue pack's Beta.

"It's arranged, not fake," Dad states simply before barging into the throne hall with strength and power that only the true Alpha of Alphas can possess.

This time, I halt.

Arranged, not fake.

I knew that, but… It hasn't truly sunk in that it will be a real marriage until now. I have no idea why I kept thinking about it like it would be some fake union for show—the proposition we agreed on was so clear. Marriage. It may be for show, but it will be valid and binding, and I will be his wife .

It feels like I’m being sold , not arranged to be married.

"Your Highness?" one of the servants by the door where I stopped looks at me worriedly, probably not used to me being shaken by anything.

I smile at him politely and go in after my father—who was my dad in that long corridor. But now, in that throne room, he is a King responsible for the good of the whole pack, first and foremost.

I stand on the podium to his left, with my back straight and head held high, and look around the big hall.

There is no furniture except the traditional gold and velvet throne my father is sitting on, as usual, but it's way quieter than I'm used to.

We are surrounded by the best of our royal pack warriors who all look in the same direction with narrowed eyes—the ceiling-high double doors on the opposite side of the hall .

Silence. The only thing I can hear is the collective of our hearts beating faster and faster.

Finally, there is a commotion outside, and all my heightened werewolf senses go highwire.

I haven't felt that way for weeks, with my inner wolf being silent and probably mad. No wonder—it's a pure animal reflection of who we truly are. It doesn't feel right to marry someone who isn't my mate, so of course that part of me shut down in a traumatic response.

Before I can even concentrate properly on gathering my strength and calming my senses, the doors open with a bang. My sight locks on the white man with brown hair and a long dark red cape. As tall and big and scary as I always thought he must be.

The Rogue King.

"His Majesty, the Rogue King and his one true heir—His Highness, Rogue Alpha Prince," someone from the Rogue’s side loudly informs us.

The Rogue King is disturbingly handsome. He leads his men with a nonchalance that only someone as brutal as he can have. He winks at me before looking in the direction of my father, who waits to greet him. But it's a struggle for me to move my eyes from him to anybody else.

It's fascinating. His mere presence is so compelling I can't shake the bad feeling that's spreading all over my body— Wait.

That growing, restless, primal feeling finally makes me move my eyes to the next guest—the only one who stayed with his King and not spread around.

My heart practically stops.

It happens so fast that I'm not sure exactly what I'm feeling at first, but then the wolf part of my brain practically shouts in my head one word over and over again.

Mate, mate, mate!

My mouth parts in shock. Utterly unprepared for meeting my true mate so close to the dreadful alliance. And that's when his cold navy-blue eyes move over my face with disinterest, and I realize my mate is… him . Fucking Rogue Alpha Prince!

He stands in front of me on his father's right in his full combat attire. Leather pants, heavy boots, all the blades strapped to his naked chest, and that infamous werewolf-fur cape. He gives a nod to my dad, who welcomes both of our guests—and I look between the two of them, discovering how almost identical they look. From impeccable facial features and their massive very tall bodies, to the choice of clothing. Everything except for their ethnicity, with the tanned olive skin and pitch-black straight hair of the Rogue Alpha Prince. Something in his face, no matter how similar to his dad, tells me he is definitely not white.

Maybe his mom is from one of the Middle Eastern packs…

He laughs shortly at something my dad said, and I realize suddenly that I should listen to the conversation between the kings and not gawk at the prince.

I try to concentrate on the history making itself. Remembering everything that is being said, silently making mental notes of things I think we should discuss at length later, before signing the alliance, being valuable and present…

But I'm not really here. Not when I feel that bond pulling all of my senses back to him and his intoxicating smell. My true mate.

What. The. Hell.

Rogue Alpha Prince's existence is the solemn reason I picked up knife throwing as a light hobby, for Moon Goddess' sake!

He is very handsome—don't get me wrong—and by some dreadful miracle, we are supposed to get into a blessed marriage union for our kingdoms. But… why?! Why him of all the wolves in the realms?! Is this some kind of divine joke?

I know him from the tales of the warriors who were lucky enough to survive his bloody claws and even bloodier sword. Yes, usually he is so cocky he doesn't even bother to turn into his wolf form. Something no ordinary human would dare to do while fighting with powerful werewolves. He is ruthless, cruel, some even say crazy. And now I can see that on top of all of that, he's an arrogant prick.

That's what I have been praying for the last ten years? Greg was right, it was pointless. We are probably assigned mates at birth. Or even before that—that's the only explanation for bigger age differences in some mates, and we clearly have one. I'm like two-thirds his age, right?

As far as I can tell from the one completely uninterested and condescending look he gave me so far, he doesn't feel a mate bond with me—and maybe it's better that way.

Yes, he has looked my way only once during the whole meeting we've been having for over an hour now, judging by my restless legs. He should be looking at me from boredom at this point, but no, apparently I'm too boring for him too. What a prick.

We werewolves, don't feel the mate pull until we come of age. That's what we call it. But that's not some fixed date. No. It's when we are mentally mature enough to withstand the strength of the emotions that the true mate pull ignites in us. Some will start connecting to this side of us at eighteen, feeling the ability even if their mate is not close to them yet. And some are twenty-five and still so immature that there seems to be no hope to settle and start a family in their future. That's how most werewolves choose to live, starting the family only once they find their true mates. Well… unless you are a doomed princess like me.

Isn't the Alpha Rogue Prince almost thirty now? Thirty-something, even. Hmm, I should be surprised he doesn't feel anything yet at his age, but somehow, I am not. It only confirms what I already think about him. Which is nothing good.

Doesn't matter. We are simply from two different worlds. Maybe we both have royal alpha blood flowing in our werewolf veins, but it has an entirely opposite origin—even if we are equal in our natural wolf powers.

Yes, some of us werewolves are stronger than others. Alphas, their second-in-command Betas, and their children, usually carry the same power in their genes; like me and the Rogue Prince. That's how we survive as a kind—weaker wolves submitting to be cared for by the stronger ones .

That's why I'm in this whole situation right now. I have to take care of my pack—which is an entire Kingdom of Packs when your dad happens to be the Alpha of all Alphas.

"Isn't she a little bit too young, though?" asks the Rogue King, suddenly, all of their eyes are finally on me.

To be honest, I haven't listened carefully to what they were saying for a long time now. I was too occupied with silent questions to the Moon Goddess about her silly joke of a mate bond.

I mean, we don't even pray to the same Goddess! Rogues worship the God of Night if the reports I read are true.

"She's twenty, almost twenty-one," says my dad, the true Alpha King.

Yes, I am rather young for marriage. But all of my sisters are still kids—hiding from scary Rogues in their wing of the palace. So when the Rogues asked for a royal she-wolf's hand in marriage, I was the only legal option.

Even so, my adult age doesn't seem to please the Rogue King. The prince doesn't look at me in favor either—I quickly decide to add the one thing that I know would act in favor of my maturity now.

Or rather, in favor of the union of our quarreling kingdoms, because this marriage is the last thing I want for myself personally.

"I can feel the mate pull already, Your Majesty," I look down respectfully as I should. Rogue or not, he is still a king. My King soon—if their cruel wish comes true.

There is silence for a moment, so I look up again. Alpha Rogue Prince has turned his attention elsewhere, bored again, but I can feel Rogue King's scorching eyes burn metaphoric holes in me.

My father starts to seem nervous about securing his dreamed peace, but he doesn't say anything. No, he wants me to handle all of this by myself. I know him.

Part of me wishes we hadn't decided he wouldn't open mind-link to me, in favor of being on a constant link with his Beta. In case the meeting doesn’t go as peacefully as it should.

"Well, will it be a problem?" Rogue King asks me finally, with furrowed brows.

I know what he means. He wonders if I can be loyal to his son when I can feel the pull of the true mate elsewhere.

"No, it won't, Your Majesty. I'll remain loyal to my husband no matter what."

As I have any other choice in that matter when they are one person. The same ruthless, bloodthirsty prick of the Rogue Alpha Prince.

The Rogue King nods his approval.

"And do we have to worry about your son's true mate?" my dad asks, completely oblivious I’m right fucking here.

Rogue King laughs, "She’s as good as dead.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

This time my father nods, and they all return to more pressing matters. Everything that will happen after I get married to my biggest enemy.

What the hell ? I keep wondering—while staring at the brooding, masculine, too-good-looking-for-his-own-good, huge werewolf warrior in front of me. I'm pretty sure he's the tallest man I've ever seen, with his father a close second. I know I should at least pretend I'm listening to my dad, talking with the Rogue King about some border issues I'm probably even more aware of than them, but my eyes don't move in their direction even for a second.

They are too drowned by all the extra-sharp-looking knives strapped to Rogue Prince's broad shirtless chest.

"I hope you are at least not a virgin, are you?" he asks me suddenly, gracing us with his husky voice for the first time.