Chapter Seven

Prince Mykal? I repeat stupidly to myself, unable to stop gaping at the breathtaking man before me. I knew the name, of course. It always pays to know the name of your enemy.

Prince Mykal Boreal, eldest son of the Lycan King, and next in line for the throne.

Everything in me stops suddenly. Wait, did he just say I was his mate? I look at him, aghast. How is that possible? He's a Lycan! I'm a Werewolf. We're enemies. And yet…

His scent fills my head again and I know that this irrefutably strong response I feel toward him is our mate bond taking hold. I just lost my first mate, and now, instantaneously, I have a new one? How can this be?

But even as I try to cast-off the thought as absurd, in my heart of hearts I know this man is my second chance mate.

I found my second chance mate! 

"I thought our business was done, Mykal," Evander says, breaking into my whirlwind of thoughts. "We finished the trade our superiors commanded us to make. What are you still doing in my lands?"

If the prince is disturbed by Evander's deliberate refusal to use his title, it does not show on his face or in his body language.  

In fact, he ignores Evander completely, holding out his hands to me in comforting supplication.

"Hello, my dear," Prince Mykal says. His voice strums places within me that I didn’t even know existed. "You seem unwell. May I be of assistance to you?"

He reaches toward me, but having just suffered so much, I flinch away from his touch. The move brings me closer to Evander, which I don't want either. I extricate myself from my former mate's arms, but once I'm standing on my own, I begin to wobble once again.

Evander's brow wrinkles with what might be concern. "Now, just wait–"

"Please, as your mate, allow me to help you," Prince Mykal says, cutting Evander off. He holds out his hand again, smiling charmingly. "At the very least, will you tell me your name?"

My body has not yet recovered from the excruciating pain of the rejection. I don't have the will to resist when Prince Mykal tenderly takes me into his arms.

"Why don't you speak to me?" my new mate asks. "Are you that shy?"

He lifts a hand, and with the lightest touch of his fingertips, traces the edge of my jaw. "You can speak. I can hear your voice within."

He frowns as his fingers trail lower, dipping under my chin, then down the length of my neck. His touch is warm, his caress soothing, and despite myself, I find my body relaxing in his arms. I don't think I've ever been touched so tenderly in my life.

His fingers rest at the hollow of my throat. The prince tilts his head as if he's listening to some far-off sound. Anger suddenly contorts his beautiful face, and he snarls at Evander, the pack as a whole.

"Poison!" he spits out, his disgust plain for all to see. "You people are savages."  

I watch, transfixed, as the fingers that just touched me so gently transform into sharp claws. I try to resist, but I'm too exhausted to put up any kind of fight. He shifts me in his arms as if I weighed nothing at all.

I can only watch as he slits open his own wrist, then brings it to my lips.

"Drink," he says softly, for my ears alone.

I don't want him, I don't want this. The man I loved with my entire body and soul has just left me rejected and bereft. I'm not ready to be so intimate with another – second chance mate or not.

I try to turn my face away, but his warm blood smears across my lips. Unthinkingly, I try to lick it away, determined not to be a part of whatever this is.

But then… Then I taste it. Prince Mykal's lifeblood, brimming with vitality. Another lick and my weakness begins to fade. One more after that, and for the first time since I woke up, the constriction in my throat begins to subside.

Evander growls, low and menacing. When the prince finally looks in his direction, Evander snaps his teeth, the wolf within him gleaming out from behind his eyes.

"You need to step away from her right now," Evander snarls. His back is hunched, powerful muscles rippling beneath his skin as he faces off against the other man. "You've gone too far."

I look at him, shocked by his anger. Why in the world is he glaring at us? How does he have any right?

While my indignation bubbles away inside me, my new mate just laughs in the face of my old. "I literally watched you reject her in a formal ceremony that ended less than ten minutes ago. You have no authority over her anymore. By your own choice, you are no longer her Alpha. She is my mate now, and I will take her with me."

Evander's hands ball into fists at his side as he squares up for a fight. His hackles rise, and his lips curl back, baring his teeth. His growing incisors glint in the light. “You can’t have her.”

The prince laughs again, but this time there's an unmistakable edge to his amusement. "I don't need your permission to take her," he retorts. His clawed hand flexes menacingly. The smile on his face is a threat. "And I am more than happy to prove that point."

The tension between them escalates with every passing second. I don't understand where Evander's possessiveness is coming from. He could be like that from time to time while we were married, but like Prince Mykal said, this entire situation was Evander's command. Why is he suddenly contradicting himself?

Lost in my own conflicting thoughts, I don't react in time to duck when Evander pounces at me. He grabs my arm, his fist like a vice, and yanks me toward him.

Before I can even stumble two steps in his direction, my other arm is snatched by Prince Mykal. They glare at each other over my head, neither one willing to let go. I'm caught between the two men, a living prize in their tug of war.

Someone howls. Someone else howls back. 

A chill races down my spine and the fine hairs on my body stir. I know with horrific certainty that we're all headed for an explosive fight.