Page 7

Draven

E ver since Amira and I agreed to the arranged mating, things ran smoothly between us. We worked well together. She adapted quickly — to palace life, to royal protocol, to the rhythm of power. She learned fast. Played the part even faster.

She’s from Mirenwulf — one of the six Prime Packs. Her bloodline is pure strength, top-tier shifter lineage. Her father’s the Alpha Prime there. Her uncle’s one of my most trusted advisors. And one of her brothers is on track to becoming Head Warrior if he keeps grinding the way he does.

After I secured my throne — no challengers left standing, no question about who the King was — my Council started pressing me to consider an arranged mating. I thought I had no mate. The High Priestess found no Mate Spark in me. So I listened.

Every pack needs a Luna. The Royal Pack is no exception. I needed someone strong. Mateless. Politically sound. Capable of earning the loyalty of alphas across the realm.

And over a year ago, I made my choice.

Amira.

Her true mate had died. Her family was loyal. Her presence — poised, strong, confident. She checked every box the Council put in front of me. When they presented her as an option, I just said yes. I wanted to be done with the search.

We agreed on a two-year courtship. Time to get to know each other. Appear united in the eyes of the public. Time for her to learn everything about what it means to be Queen.

I was supposed to mark her in just a few months.

The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

She didn’t want to wait the full two years. The Council didn’t either. They pushed. Pressed. Urged. But I insisted.

Now, looking back, I think it was the lycan. Pushing against the magic choking us both. Screaming that our mate was still out there. Fighting for her, even when I couldn’t hear him.

I’m only grateful he was strong enough to hold the line.

Amira’s father will lose his damn mind over this situation. Tough shit.

My mate is more important than anything.

“Amira,” I say, resting my forearms on the cracked desk between us, “things are very simple now. Our arrangement is over.”

Her brows knit together, but I press on before she can interrupt.

“I found my true mate. And the moment I did, our arranged mating was dissolved.”

I lean in slightly, meeting her gaze without flinching. “I’m sorry,” I add. “Not about finding my true mate, of course. But I know how much time you’ve invested preparing to take on the Luna role. Studying the royal bloodline. Memorizing history, protocol, causes. You worked hard.”

Her breath shudders. Her voice is small, shaky. “I… I don’t understand,” she says, eyes filling with tears. “I thought you didn’t have a mate. Like me. I thought we were building something real.”

She hesitates, then whispers, “I fell in love with you, Ven. Don’t you care about me? At all?”

Her eyes lock on mine, shining with hurt, and for a moment — a very brief moment — guilt stirs in my chest. Not because I wronged her. I didn’t. But because somewhere along the way, she clearly convinced herself I was something I never promised to be. But it slightly pisses me off, too.

I exhale through my nose. “Amira,” I say, keeping my voice calm, “you knew the terms from the beginning. This was a political alliance. I told you clearly I couldn’t offer love. I never misled you.”

She flinches slightly. My words hit, but I won’t apologize for them. I’m not being cruel, I’m just honest.

“I didn’t need your love,” she says suddenly, louder. Stronger. “I gave you mine anyway.” Her palm slams against her chest. “And I’m ready to serve. I know what it means to be Luna of the Royal Pack. I’ve trained for it. I’ve earned it.”

Her voice breaks again. “Can she even do it?” she whispers. “Can she stand beside you in the eyes of all the Prime Packs? Of the world? Does she even want you?”

That one lands. Hard.

But not enough to shake me.

I’ve spent years believing I didn’t have a mate. I hardened myself around that truth. And now — when I thought it would never happen — I’ve been given something sacred. My soul’s match. My other half. She may not want me right now. But that doesn’t matter.

Because I will earn her back. She will always be mine.

I square my shoulders. My tone turns cold.

“It’s done, Amira. And I won’t have you speaking of my mate like that again.”

She blinks at me, stunned.

“I understand this hurts. I do. But questioning her place beside me? That’s a line you don’t cross. Not if you want to leave this palace with your dignity intact.”

I pause, let the words settle.

“I’ve already sent word to your father,” I finish. “You’ll be returning to Mirenwulf tomorrow.”

I sigh and push up from the desk.

Amira’s still sitting there, eyes wide and glassy. Full of tears.

“I’m sure you understand why you need to return to your pack,” I say, keeping my voice even. It sucks for her, I know. But I can’t have a woman I slept with and presented as my chosen Luna to the public anywhere near my true mate. It will hurt Kassira and I won’t allow that.

Amira rises slowly from the chair, head bowed. Her voice is a whisper. “It’s not fair.”

She lifts her gaze, chin trembling. “I wish I’d known that was our last kiss.”

Hell, this is stretching too long.

“You’ll be fine, Amira,” I tell her, voice clipped. “You’re strong enough to get through this.”

She takes a step toward me, hand lifting — a reflex, maybe. Or a willing mistake.

A warning growl rolls out of me before I can stop it.

She gasps and goes still, arm frozen mid-air.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” My voice drops to a snarl. “You know better. You don’t touch a shifter after he’s found his mate.” My eyes narrow on her. “You barely made it out alive earlier. And that was because I knew you didn’t have all the facts yet.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathes. “I didn’t think. I just wanted to hug you. Just once more.”

She steps back. Two paces. Hands up. Retreating.

“I’ll go now,” she whispers. “Goodbye, Ven.”

I don’t answer.

My eyes stay locked on the door long after it closes.

This whole leash situation is eating at my instincts. Making me suspicious of everyone. Paranoid. The kind of ancient magic that can cage a creature like Draxis? That takes a pure-blooded witch — not just power, but heritage.

And if I didn’t know, with absolute certainty, that Amira is a shifter… she’d be on my list. Right near the top.

Out of all the possible reasons for someone to collar me, one stands out above the rest.

Power.

My bloodline has always ruled the Royal Pack. Always gave the Alpha King. Always. Anyone could challenge us, and they did, but no one ever won.

So yeah — if someone wanted access to absolute power over all shifters… leashing me would be the obvious move. And Amira got closer to that power than most.

I step into the royal library without a sound.

I already know where she is — I can feel it. A constant, aching pull in my chest leads me to her without fail. A bond that should be gone, but still hums beneath my skin, alive and wild.

She’s at one of the large oak tables, surrounded by towers of ancient books and crumbling scrolls. Her face is bent in concentration, a small furrow between her brows, fingers stained faintly with ink. She looks like she always belonged here — fierce and untouchable.

“What do you want, Your Majesty?” she says without looking up.

Fuck, even her voice is sharp enough to cut.

“I brought you something to eat.” I set the plate down beside her carefully — pastries, sliced fruit, tiny sandwiches. “You’ve been locked in here for hours. You didn’t eat.”

Finally, she looks at me. Suspicious eyes. Arms crossed. Defensive posture engaged.

“Keeping tabs on my movements?” she asks flatly.

I smile, because of course she’d say that. “Obviously. If you insist on going through half the restricted archives in a single sitting, someone has to make sure you don’t collapse face-first into old and dusty paper.”

She sniffs the food once. Her stomach audibly growls, and she huffs, annoyed at herself.

“That smells... unfairly good,” she mutters, reaching out — then stopping mid-reach to narrow her eyes at me.

“This is not me accepting a mate offering,” she says sternly. “Got it?”

“Crystal clear,” I reply, nodding. Still smiling. But when she finally takes a bite of the sandwich, something warm unfurls in my chest. I almost release a contented growl, instinct tugging at me, but I clamp it down just in time.

I take the seat next to her and grab one of the books, flipping it open like I actually intend to read it.

Truth is, I’m watching her. Everything about her is fascinating.

She’s a beautiful contradiction. Someone who seems powerless at first glance, but she’s actually stronger than any warrior I’ve met.

None of them would have survived the pain of a rejection for six months and still have their sanity by the end.

“How’s your little girlfriend?” she mumbles around a bite. “Still upset?”

My jaw tightens at the memory. Amira’s last stunt was too much — reaching for me after everything I told her.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I say, voice low. “She’ll be leaving for her father’s pack tomorrow.”

Kassira’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?” There's too much glee in her voice for someone pretending not to care. “How’d she take it? Did she cry? Beg? Throw something at you?”

I grin despite myself. “It went about as well as you’d expect—”

I stop. My eyes catch on something in the book I’ve been pretending to read. A paragraph, just a few words.

She leans forward, chewing slower now. “Why’d you stop?”

My blood goes cold.

I turn the book toward her and tap the line that stopped me cold.

“This — right here. It says controlling magic can only be placed on a lycan when they’re at their most vulnerable.

Tiny windows of time. As a newborn… or during deep grief.

” I glance up, voice low. “The collar — it’s definitely controlling magic.

It’s controlling my lycan and my part of the bond. ”

“And your mind, most likely,” Kassira murmurs.

Her voice is soft, but the words hit hard.

She meets my eyes. “You never shifted because of it. That collar stopped everything. You should’ve turned at ten, when all lycans do.

Which means someone got to you before then.

” She leans back, fingers tapping against the wood.

Then throws her head back, groaning. “Ugh, I really, really wanted it to be your little girlfriend. But even if she were a pure-blood witch, she would've been too young back then.” She huffs. “This would’ve been so much simpler if it was her.”

I bite down a curse. “Yeah,” I mutter. “I thought about that too.”

Her head snaps toward me, a spark in her eyes. “Oh? You’ve had bad thoughts about the love of your life?”

I frown. “She’s not the love of my life,” I say flatly. “I never loved her. It was an arranged mating. A political alliance. The pack needed a Luna, my Council insisted and I thought I was mateless.”

Kassira’s jaw drops slightly. Her expression is all disbelief. “Uh-huh. Didn’t look like just politics when you two were playing lovebirds in public.”

I sigh. “It was for appearances. For the packs. Strong image. Strong unity.”

She squints at me, lips pursed like she’s trying to decide what to throw something at my head. “And what about her true mate? You can’t just reject a mate bond for status. That’s illegal.”

“He died,” I say simply. “Years ago. The Council vetted her, and she was their top pick. She knew the role. I agreed. There were no more challenges for the throne, I had stability. It made sense.”

She groans and drags a hand down her face. “You always have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

I grin and lean back in my chair. “I sure do, gorgeous.”

I slide the plate of pastries closer to her, throwing in a wink for good measure. “Eat. They’re delicious. Just like you.”

She blinks. Once. Twice. Then lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Wait. Wait — were you just trying to flirt with me?”

I narrow my eyes, lips curving. “Maybe… Is it working?”

She snorts. “You’re terrible at it! Seriously. How can you be this bad at flirting?”

I cross my arms, wounded. “I never had to flirt,” I mumble. “Like you can do it better.”

She smirks while she picks up a pastry, eyes locked on mine, and takes a slow, sultry bite. Her lids lower. A soft sound escapes her. “Mmm,” she purrs, licking her lips, “you were right, Your Majesty. This pastry really is soooo, so delicious.”

My mouth is dry. I’m leaning in before I realize I’ve moved. “It is?” I breathe.

She pops the rest of the pastry in her mouth and grins. “Sure is!” Cheerful. Absolutely evil.

I blink, trying to bring my brain back. What just happened?

I clear my throat and sit straighter, oddly disappointed. “Right. Okay. Focus.” I rub a hand over my jaw. “I called for the High Priestess. She’ll arrive in a week.”

Kassira nods, eyes serious again. “Good. We need answers. Whoever did this — whoever put that leash on you — they’re patient. But if Draxis broke through, that means the collar’s weakening. And whoever’s behind it… they’ll feel the pressure. They’ll act soon.”

“I agree. That’s why Sin and I already set up a perimeter in the West Forest. Border of the palace lands. I want to try bringing Draxis out in a controlled space. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to start tomorrow.”

She tilts her head, thinking, then nods once. “Okay.”

Then she glances at the half-full plate, smirking. “I’d like more pastries. And a steak sandwich.”

I’m on my feet before she finishes the sentence. “I’ll be right back.”