Page 38

I hurriedly emerge from the Castle to the courtyard, where we are supposed to meet—as if Cain wasn’t the one who came over an hour later than he previously promised.

I’m running up towards his voice, but I’m looking down to fix my deep V blood-red spaghetti-strap blouse. I’m also wearing high-waist black skinny jeans, and my black Chelsea booties. My strawberry blonde hair is almost back to its natural color—I let it fall on my shoulders in natural beach waves. I feel comfortable and sexy, but I gave up on the DIY choker in case I would have to shift into the wolf pretty quickly.

As in, for example, my date attacks me. I can’t fight him back in my wolf form, but I can certainly run away. Right?

“Sorry, my leather pants were taken to the laundry, and I’m running out of black things. But I kind of like our rock style, so I tried to—” I stop in my tracks when my eyes finally land on Cain.

It’s like déjà vu that keeps getting better. He’s leaning on his motorbike with a cigarette in his hand—the same way he was waiting for me before going to my brother’s birthday. I take a few steps forward while he’s taking a long drag, holding it in, before slowly letting the smoke swirl around us.

I shamelessly look him over.

He looks devilishly handsome in his black leather pants, tight black shirt, and combat boots. His beard is freshly trimmed, and his black hair combed back, but slightly disheveled, like he used his hands to do that. A few loose strands are falling over his forehead as always.

“Where are we going? Should I go back for a jacket or something?”

“No.” He takes another puff and puts the cigarette out.

I can’t stop gawking at him.

He takes his leather jacket from the motorbike seat, and hands it to me with a smirk. I put it on and smell it shamelessly. Werewolf scent, subtle lemons, leather, and no cigarettes.

“Are you sure you smoke regularly? I can’t smell anything.”

“I do, but it’s my special blend, not tobacco.”

What, lemon grass?

We put the helmets on and sit on the bike. I wrap my arms in the, too-big jacket, tightly around his waist from behind.

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” he asks right away. Nothing escapes his attention.

“I ran.” A half-lie.

I did run, the maid he sent for me because my mind was blocked, found me deep in the library still undressed for the date. He doesn’t need to know that the real reason behind my heightened pulse is my plan to irreversibly break my heart—I finally found what I was looking for in the library this afternoon.

“Right.” He starts the engine with a kick, and we ride off the castle grounds—then leave the whole Rogue Capital City behind.

It’s my second time on the motorcycle and I have to admit, it does have an appeal.

Still, I miss my car.

And flush toilets.

He slows down when the road turns into the middle of the forest—I hope it really is a date and not some new fucked-up way to scare me into obedience.

I’m pretty obedient to him anyway! I try to be at least. I think. Am I?

He stops in the clearing in front of some modern building.

I take off my helmet and take it all in. It’s a huge house, built from massive logs, with many full-wall-size windows that give it a very contemporary look.

“Do you like it?” Cain asks, hopping off his bike and taking his helmet off.

He gives me a hand to help me hop off too, and then puts away our helmets on the bike. I stand in front of the building unsure why he brought me here. It looks… empty.

I look at my Rogue Prince questioningly.

“It’s mine. Ours.” He shrugs.

“Ours?” I look at the house like it could magically puff away any second.

“It’s not furnished yet.” He stands by my right side, and stares at the building, too. “They just finished this phase. You can still arrange and decorate according to your style, if you want.”

Can I? I don’t think I have a style. All my life I’ve just lived wherever they want me. Where I can’t exactly change anything, because it is either the property of the royals or the military—not mine, not for real. So, I just… adapt.

“Black grew on me, to be honest,” I say finally.

He laughs full-heartedly—and it makes me blush for what feels like the first time in years.

“So, what do you think?” He looks back at me, searching my face with his navy-blue eyes.

I love those eyes .

“I have one question. Are there normal bathrooms in there?”

“Define normal.” He smirks.

I swat at his shoulder playfully, like we are a real couple or best friends.

I immediately regret it, of course. Hitting ruthless Rogue Prince, however innocent the reason, is just unacceptable—what was I thinking?! I’m waiting for a slap in the face or—

He grabs my hand and kisses it, while looking straight into my eyes. Coldly. It somehow feels worse than a knife put to my neck would.

It feels like a threat.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat—my eyes are being summoned by the round white circle already visible over the tree lines. Full moon. I avert my eyes back to my wicked husband.

Cain straightens his back, smirking at me. He knows I’m scared of him. He seems to like me that way. I know it will only get worse for me with every passing day.

There is nothing that scares me more than him realizing, somehow, I am his true mate and his only potential weakness. It’s getting closer, I can feel it. Even if he’ll never have the blessing of scenting the bond for himself—I will only get more and more occasions to slip up on my lie.

He fishes keys from his tight back pocket, and goes to the front doors. I follow him inside, but my mind is elsewhere.

Am I absolutely sure I’m making a good choice? I don’t know. But I want to live, and I don’t have much time. I have to do this while I still can.

I probably only have a few more months before he’ll try to mark me for real, and I won’t be able to reject him anymore. Not without his consent and knowledge, anyway. But I couldn’t find anything specific about rejecting your already marked, true Goddess-gifted mate—other than the fact it seems quite impossible to do.

Rejecting him on the full moon—while he doesn’t feel anything yet, and doesn’t even know if I am just joking or not—is my last chance at severing this mate bond. I am determined to do it while I still can. This full moon. Tonight.

Maybe I am a little bit overdramatic here, but being scared for my life pushes me to this. Perhaps I have even more than a few months—with his theory of marks working only when you are in love, he might never actually try. But I can’t risk it.

What if he gets curious again, like when we were at my brother's birthday, and it will work this time ?

Cain is showing me all these beautiful and spacious rooms, with lots of natural light and thick forest views. I am nodding and humming, smiling and looking at him, all tall and handsome and painfully mine.

But I can’t stop thinking. What if?

What if… when I reject him, he won’t think it’s a joke and will get mad at me anyway . I comment on the cool skylight in the second-floor bathroom. No, he won’t do anything to me for that. It’s still better than him realizing I actually am his true mate. What if… I get a second chance mate? I comment on the size of the master bedroom’s two walk-in closets. No, what are the chances of me getting a second chance, Moon Goddess reserves it only for the most important …

Wait, I am a Royal Alpha Princess—of course, I’m getting a second chance mate! And it would probably be his gamma, Atlas. I would have to deal with both of them then, or reject him too… or Cain would kill him. Would I get a third chance mate? Is that a thing? Will it ever end somewhere? Or would it be another cruel joke from our divine Mother of Wolves?

Even with a tenth mate, I would have to stay with Cain. But it would be better than staying true-mate-bonded to him. As soon as he knows that fact, I’m getting beheaded.

For being his true mate, and for covering it up.

It would certainly end my inner torture, but it would not be good for my Kingdom. Or his. Ours, whatever, I mean all werewolves. I would rather suffer than let people keep dying in stupid rogue wars because of my fate. I am a princess—I am better than that.

Plus, it isn’t all bad. I am scared, I live around ruthless rogues, I’ve got bitten and humiliated and even hunted… But at least we do understand each other on some level, and Cain is handsome and sexy. It could be way worse. We are actually good at this arranged marriage thing, right? We both instinctively put our union first before our happiness, and we never fight about it, we just do what has to be done. We both dive into it headfirst. And we never even had to discuss it either.

Maybe we should ?

Cain leads me to the main living room where huge windows overlook the patio and a thick forest. There is a thick fuzzy blanket lying over there with two fluffy pillows, a rattan box, and a wine-like bottle.

“Sparkling lemonade,” he says, catching my hand and squeezing it a little, while he slides the glass doors open.

I follow him outside and we sit on the blanket. I slide off his leather jacket, my nipples getting hard—but the late summer air is still warm, still nice. I look at him opening the box, some pleasant food smells engulfs us at once. When did he prepare all that?

He is crazy, but there is also some tenderness he sometimes shows me. Is it real? Who knows. But I strongly believe we can work this whole marriage thing out. Not the mate bond. But marriage—yes. Maybe we’ll never truly love each other, but we can be good partners. For the greater good, and for us. My mom was right, we can have fun in life in the midst of it all. This date is just a small example.

He serves me some kind of wrap with veggies and meat, and I smile at him.

This pure moment is the reason I need to reject him. I don’t want to die because Moon Goddess was in the mood for this joke of a mate bond. I want my life, I like my life, even if I am more than occasionally scared of him and other rogues… I am scared, but I am brave too.

And I am determined to keep myself alive, and have dates, and dance nights, and cool fighting pit trainings—even if that means breaking my heart in the process.

I half-sit on the blanket with Cain, facing the forest. He’s talking about the house like we are some sweet human couple, and not two of the most powerful werewolves in the world.

But I can see it now… us living here in the forest at night, leaving all of the weight on our shoulders back in the Castle where we work during the day—it sounds like a dream I never allowed myself to have before.

I’m sipping my lemonade, and pretending I don’t see that his eyes keep traveling down to my cleavage.

In his defense, he is trying not to linger there too much, and the flowing fabric of my red blouse is not exactly helping him concentrate.

I close my eyes, catching the last rays of warming sunshine on my eyelids. I feel so present in the moment that it’s almost exhilarating. I take a long sip, bubbles dancing on my tongue.

“Goddess, I love lemonade. Am I the lamest wolf out there?”

He snorts.

“Are you kidding me? You are a badass. I’m proud to have you as my wife, and it must say something, being the ruthless Rogue Alpha Prince or whatever you all are calling me.”

He winks at me, and I laugh lightly. Shit, I think I like him.

“You are biased,” I say, tipping my chin to the glass of lemonade in his hand.

“Shh. Don’t tell anyone.” He gulps half of it at once.

“Okay, so I know you like lemons,” I put my glass away and sit straight up, “But what about your wolf part?”

“Hmm… raw rabbits.”

I stare at him.

“Wait, what?” I shake my head as if it could fix the conversation.

“What did you ask for?” He puts his glass away too, and lays down with his arms under his head, one knee propped up.

I stare at him.

“I meant like… picking medium rare steak over cheeseburgers… Or like, a well-done burger over breaded chicken breast…. I don’t know. You actually eat rabbits?”

“Yeah, when I hunt, as a wolf. Don’t you eat what you catch?” He props himself on one elbow, and puts his free arm on my thigh—squeezing it lightly.

“Eeeh. I guess we are indeed from two different words. I don’t hunt. ”

Living in the city with regular humans was not exactly a wolf-hunting-friendly environment.

“I do.”

“Yeah, I know you do, you were hunting me .” And I am still a little bit mad about it.

“It’s actually our tradition here. To hunt your bride.” He repeats a slightly different version of a story he told my family.

“Of course it is.” I roll my eyes at this fucked-up land. “But next time, some heads-up would be nice. Are there any other traditions I should know about?”

He laughs.

“No, I’m just messing with you.”

“Why were you hunting me then?” I scowl, wondering about other traditions my dad read about. It was adding up, so I’m confused now.

“I just felt like it.” He looks amused. Again.

“You felt like it? Ok, see, now I don’t know when you are kidding or not.”

“I like it that way, I like my prey guessing.” He winks at me, and reaches to grab my neck.

I pull away at first, but he tries again, and I let him catch me. He pulls me down for a kiss I almost immediately break.

“Were you curious how strong my wolf is?” I look him in the eyes, but he looks at my lips, distracted.

“Yes,” He admits after a moment of hesitation, “But I learned how strong you are instead.”

Only because my wolf didn’t let me fight you, my true mate.