Fake Mates Till Forever

LENA

The digital clock on my nightstand glowed a steady, mocking 11:30 PM. I was just pulling the duvet over my shoulders, drifting into that hazy space between reality and dreams where I finally allowed myself to imagine a world where Austin belonged to me.

Then, my phone buzzed.

My heart did a clumsy somersault when I saw his name on the caller ID:

Austin. My best friend. The future Beta of the Silver Moon Pack. And the man I had secretly loved since the first time we shifted together under the summer stars. To the rest of the pack, he was the golden boy—strong, charming, and destined for greatness. To me, he was my entire world.

I scrambled for the device, my thumb sliding across the screen with embarrassing haste. "Austin?" I breathed, my voice thick with a hope I couldn't quite suppress.

"Leah? It’s Mark."

The hope died instantly, replaced by a cold, leaden weight in my stomach. Mark was Austin’s assistant, a low-ranking sentinel who usually handled the messy details of Austin’s social life.

"Mark? Why are you calling from Austin’s phone? Is he alright?"

"He’s at the Obsidian," Mark said, his voice frantic over a background of thumping bass and the rowdy cheers of shifting wolves. "He’s drunk, Leah. Worse than I’ve ever seen him. He’s already broken two tables and nearly shifted in the middle of the dance floor. He’s refusing to leave, and he’s growling at anyone who gets close. But he keeps saying your name. Please... you’re the only one he won’t bite."

The "best friend" card. It was a card I had played for ten years. I was the person he called when he was broken, the one who patched him up so he could go back out and be the golden boy of the city.

My wolf let out a sharp, protective yelp in my mind. "I’m coming. Keep him in the VIP lounge. Don't let anyone see him like that."

I didn't think. I didn't care that it was nearly midnight or that my parents would lose their minds if they knew I was sneaking out to a rogue-friendly club. I threw on a trench coat over my silk chemise, slipped into some loafers, and drove through the rain-slicked streets of the city like a maniac. My mind was a whirlwind of worry. Austin wasn't a heavy drinker; he was too controlled, too focused on inheriting his family’s empire to let himself slip. Something was wrong.

The Obsidian was a den of sweat, musk, and pheromones. It was where wolves went when they wanted to forget the laws of the pack. I pushed through the crowd, my heightened senses overwhelmed by the smell of cheap gin and aggressive alphas.

Mark met me at the VIP entrance, his face pale under the strobe lights. He led me through the crowd to a private suite at the very back of the club.

"He’s in there," Mark said, looking like he wanted to bolt. He whispered. "He made everyone else leave. Be careful, Leah. His aura is... unstable."

I pushed open the heavy oak door. The room was dimly lit, draped in shadows that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the music outside. The air was thick with the scent of forest pine and expensive whiskey—Austin’s scent, but warped by the bitterness of alcohol.

He was slumped in a leather armchair, a bottle of amber liquid dangling from his hand. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, revealing the hard, muscular planes of his chest. Even in his stupor, he was breathtaking. He had that boyish charm that made every female in the pack swoon, but tonight, there was a raw, jagged edge to him.

"Austin," I breathed, rushing toward him. "Austin, look at me. You need to stop. If your father finds out you're acting like a rogue, he’ll strip your title."

I reached for the bottle, my fingers trembling as I tried to pry it away from him. "Give it to me, Austin. Let’s get you back to the pack house."

I didn't see him move. One moment I was standing, and the next, a powerful hand gripped my wrist with the strength of a predator. With a sharp tug, he pulled me forward. I gasped as I landed squarely on his lap, my legs straddling his.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Up close, his eyes weren't their usual bright blue; they were swirling with the gold of his wolf, dark and predatory.

"Leah," he groaned. His head dropped into the crook of my neck, his hot breath sending shivers racing down my spine, making my wolf whine in submission. He smelled of whiskey and the woodsy cologne I’d bought him for his last birthday. "You came.”

"I always come when you call," I whispered, my breath hitching as his nose brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck. "You're drunk, Austin. You don't know what you're doing." I tried to push against his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard frame.

He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were clouded with a hazy, desperate fire. He looked utterly handsome—his hair was tousled, his tie undone, his boyish charm amplified by the raw vulnerability on his face.

"I know what I'm doing," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "I've been so blind, Leah. I’ve been looking everywhere, trying to satisfy my father, trying to be the man everyone wants me to be... but it’s been you. It’s been you all along.”

The world stopped.

The music, the club, the pack laws—everything faded into the background. My heart soared to heights I didn't know existed. I had waited years to hear those words. I had spent a thousand nights praying to the Moon Mother for this exact moment.

"Austin..."

He didn't let me finish. He took the initiative, his mouth crashing onto mine in a kiss that tasted of whiskey and desperate longing. It wasn't the gentle kiss of a best friend; it was the claim of a wolf who had finally found his missing piece.

Naively, I followed his lead. I let my hands tangle in his thick hair, pulling him closer, giving him everything I had held back for a decade. My wolf was howling in triumph, convinced that our bond was finally snapping into place.

We didn't leave the club.

There was a suite attached to the lounge, a place for the elite to hide away. In the heat of the moment, I didn't care about the location or the circumstances. All I cared about was the way he whispered my name against my skin, the way his touch felt like a brand.

That night, we had a one-night stand that felt, to me, like a sacred vow. As we made love, my voice went hoarse screaming his name into the quiet of the room. I gave him everything—my body, my pride, and the secret I had guarded for so long. I felt the shift in the universe; I felt our love finally beginning. I was certain he loved me too. I had to believe it.

As I drifted off to sleep, curled into the heat of his side, I had a smile on my face. I thought I had finally won. I thought the "best friend" had finally become the "only one."

I didn't know that in a few hours, the man holding me would become my greatest nightmare.