Bree?

KAEL

I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t see her today.

Told myself to stay away, let the bruises heal, let her forget the feeling of my hands around her throat.

I even sat on the throne like a proper king, already healed hand resting on the armrest, acting like I had everything under control.

Then her scent slipped under the door.

Warm vanilla. Fresh bread. A hint of something sweet and nervous that punched me straight in the gut.

My whole body went tight.

Instant.

Hard.

Painfully hard.

I shifted in the seat, jaw clenched, trying to breathe through it.

Scared she’d smell it on me.

Hopeful she wouldn’t run the second she walked in.

Peter was still half-conscious in the corner, breathing shallow. He didn’t need to see this.

The attendant stepped in, bowed. “Lady Elena is ready, Your Majesty.”

I couldn’t stand up. Not like this.

I waved him off with a growl that came out rougher than I meant and stalked to the side chamber, slamming the door behind me.

Cold water on. Didn’t help.

I braced one hand on the wall, water pounding my back, and wrapped the other around myself.

Fast. Desperate. No shame left.

I dragged her scent in like smoke, let it fill my lungs, let it burn.

Elena.

Elena.

I pumped harder, teeth bared, whispering her name like a prayer I had no right to say.

Again.

Again.

Until I came with a broken sound, spilling over my fist, forehead pressed to cold stone while the water washed everything away.

Elena.

Hoping she wouldn't smell any wierd smell around me, I stepped into the antechamber and everything narrowed to her.

Wine-red hair spilling like liquid fire. Violet eyes, my violet eyes, locked on me in pure shock.

She was beautiful in a way that made my chest hurt.

Then her voice slammed into my skull, clear as bells, lips still closed.

(Tall. Stupidly tall. Silver hair catching the light. Shoulders that could carry a whole kingdom… or crush it. And his eyes. His eyes are the exact same violet as mine.)

I stopped breathing.

"What was happening?"

Another voice, tiny and mechanical:

{Why is he looking at you like that?}

Leka? Madness? Some new curse?

No.

Mate telepathy.

She was in my head. I was in hers. And hers was… loud.

She recovered first, all stiff and professional. “Take a seat, Your Highness.”

The title scraped. I didn’t want distance. Not from her.

“Call me Kael,” I said, softer. “Titles feel wrong between us.”

Inside her skull it exploded.

(Mate’s voice is hot.)

(We’re on the same wavelength, Bree.)

(Bree shut up—Elena, focus!)

I swallowed a grin.

She opened a leather notebook like a shield and asked, voice steady, “How do you feel today, Kael?”

I leaned back, arms folded, fighting the urge to laugh already. “Particularly good, Elena. Thank you for asking."

Her pulse jumped so hard I heard it across the room.

"Does she feel the mate bond too?" I wanted to know so I walked to her.

Then the three-way argument started.

Three voices, all hers, all at once.

(Why is he standing up—)

(Why is he walking over—)

(Roundy don’t abandon me now—)

I couldn’t help it. I closed the distance, stopped right beside her chair, leaned down until her scent flooded me.

“Elena,” I murmured, slow, savoring it. “Do you feel it?”

Panic. Pure, glorious panic.

(Feel what?? The urge to bolt??)

(Bree any ideas??)

(Temperature, you absolute donut—his temp is running high!)

She straightened like someone yanked a string, cleared her throat until it cracked, and announced with perfect seriousness:

“Yes, Kael. Your temperature is… XX degrees. Pretty hot. We should probably call a doctor.”

I lost the fight.

The laugh tore out of me, deep, rusty, uncontrollable. First real laugh in years. It echoed off the walls, startled the guards, probably scared the ravens off the roof.

She stared at me, notebook clutched to her chest, eyes wide, like she was calculating how fast she could dive out the window.

I wiped my eyes, still grinning, and thought to myself.

I probably wasn't going to let her leave this palace anytime soon.

Not today.

Not ever.

This loud, strange, violet-eyed disaster was my mate.

And I was already hers, whether she knew it or not.

Let the kingdom burn.

I’d sit right here and listen to her beautiful, chaotic mind for the rest of my life.

I smiled, slow and dangerous.

“Your next appointment is tomorrow, Elena. Same time.”

Her heart skipped.

Good.

Mine had stopped the second she walked in.

ELENA

His dismissal hit me like a get-out-of-jail-free card.

I bowed (awkward, fast, probably looked like I was dodging a bee) and bolted. Half-run, half-speed-walk, heels clicking like my life depended on it. Only when I rounded two corners and slammed my bedroom door did I let myself breathe.

“Roundy. That man is certifiable. I’m done. I can’t fix him. I’m out.”

Bree’s voice floated up, soft and dreamy.

(No, Elena… you can’t call our mate that. He was happy to see us. That’s all.)

“Happy? Sweetie, you’re still a baby wolf. You don’t know adult crazy yet.”

Roundy flickered into view, sounding weirdly calm.

{I’m… confused too. But he booked you again tomorrow. That’s progress. Now get on the bed. Memory d******d incoming.}

I flopped backward dramatically. “Ooh, am I gonna see cool assassin stuff? Knife tricks? Slow-motion hair flips?”

{You’re going to sleep. You’ll dream. I won’t be there. No eating. No Reddit. No getting hurt. Just watch.}

“…Boring, but fine.”

I closed my eyes.

(I'll go with you Elena)

Cute was the last thing I thought before I drifted off to oblivion.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dream World

I woke up in a forest at twilight, barefoot on cold dirt, moonlight slicing through the trees like silver knives.

Ahead of me stood a girl.

Young. Maybe fifteen. Same wine-red hair, same violet eyes, but colder. And crazed.

Real Elena.

She knelt in a clearing, drawing three perfect circles in the dirt that overlapped in the center.

In the middle, written in dark, wet blood: BREE.

My stomach flipped.

She started chanting—lips moving, no sound reaching me. The wind picked up. Leaves whipped around her like a tornado.

Then a tiny golden wolf pup materialized inside the smallest circle, whimpering, ears flat.

Real Elena didn’t even look sorry.

She stood up, twisted her hands in a wierd way (her smile too was strange) and stepped on the wolf (Bree) with her left leg until the whimpering sound stopped.

Then she scooped sand with both hands and buried the circles—buried the name, buried the pup—until the ground was smooth again.

Everything went black.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Back in my room

I shot upright, gasping, blankets twisted around my legs like restraints.

Roundy hovered silently.

Bree was quiet for the first time ever.

"Bree

I stared at the empty air where my wolf should be.

“…Roundy?”

{Yes?}

“What the hell did original Elena do to Bree?”