Three

Justin

I stood beside my mother at the center of the hall, surrounded by the stink of desperate werewolves.

She sipped her wine slowly with a detached gaze, as if everyone in the room fell beneath her notice.

“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, already exhausted. “We have more than enough people in the workforce.”

She laughed softly. “I’m doing these fools a favor.”

“You’re evil.”

“Evil builds empires, my darling,” she said, unbothered. “Kindness destroys them.”

I sighed and tipped the last of the crushed herbs into my mouth. I barely noticed the bitterness anymore.

She watched me closely. Pity surfaced in her eyes before she masked it.

I hated that look.

She knew I didn’t want to be here. This damn festival where I had to pretend to like werewolves.

They didn’t mean shit to me.

The only reason I had come was because of something the seer from the Eastern Cliffs had said.

If the prince wishes to survive, I must bathe and anoint him.

It sounded like the usual garbage, but my mother clung to it. And she wasn’t wrong to try.

I had nothing left.

Since I met my wolf, I’d lived with pain lodged beneath my skin. The nights were endless. The burning never stopped. Wolfsbane dulled it temporarily.

This wasn’t a gift. It was a curse.

It was a war inside my body, one I couldn’t win.

I remained strong. My reflexes stayed sharp. But the beast inside me was breaking. He clawed at my insides like he was trying to escape, and each time, he came back weaker.

Only a mate could stop the unraveling.

Only she could save me.

But I hadn’t found her. And time was running out.

“I’m done waiting,” I muttered. I rubbed the back of my neck and let the tension sit there, heavy and solid. “Bring the seer. Let’s get this over with.”

My mother gave me a faint smile. “Dance with Wendy first.”

I didn’t hide my reaction.

Wendy was the spoiled, over-pampered daughter of a neighboring eastern Lycan king. 

On paper, she was perfect. Impressive bloodline, high status, and a convenient political alliance.

But I knew the truth.

She was loud, self-absorbed, and exhausting.

Still, she looked the part, and since my mate hadn’t shown up, marrying Wendy was the best political move to make.

“I’m not in the mood to pretend,” I said.

“We’re not starting a war with her father. Wendy has accused you countless times of ignoring her,” my mother replied, annoyed.

Right then, Wendy returned and latched onto my arm. Her perfume overwhelmed my senses. I stiffened and resisted the urge to push her away.

This wasn’t love. It was politics. And I knew how to play.

Fortunately, she got distracted by a group of overeager females, and I slipped away.

I wandered to the far end of the hall, where the drinks were stronger and the masks fell away.

That’s when I saw the werewolf alpha's daughter.

Her father paraded her around like expired goods, desperate to unload her before the stench set in. Twenty-five. Unmarried. Past the shelf life, according to him.

But she didn’t look desperate.

She looked dangerous.

Sharp gray eyes. Full mouth. Curves that spoke for themselves. A quiet arrogance that clung to her, and it made her the most captivating woman in the room.

She didn’t chase attention. She didn’t perform. She stood still and observed, and somehow, that made her stand taller than anyone else.

She didn’t look at me often. But when she did, heat flickered in her eyes.

She hated that she wanted me.

But she did.

And tonight, I needed a reason to forget.

Sex dulled the pain, for a few hours, at least. It wasn’t a cure, but it kept the curse from swallowing me whole.

If she wanted a distraction, I wouldn’t stop her.

I crossed the room with measured steps and stopped in front of her.

I offered my hand and smiled.

“Care to dance, sweetheart?”

She hesitated. I watched the battle behind her eyes.

Then she placed her hand in mine.

I pulled her into the crowd. I wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her in. She moved like someone who held power without needing to shout.

My hand slid down her back, tracing the exposed skin where her dress dipped low. I kept the touch suggestive, not inappropriate.

Leaning in, I murmured near her ear, “You’ve been watching me all night. Thought you might want a closer look.”

She met my gaze, unimpressed.

“Maybe I’m not used to chasing.”

I smiled at the heat in her voice.

I spun her slowly, letting my palm slide lower before pulling her back in.

“With the way you kept staring, I figured you were looking for someone to keep your bed warm tonight.”

Her cheeks turned pink, but she held her ground.

That same flush would probably run down her neck if I ever got to strip her tonight.

She tried to stay cool. She thought she could outplay me.

But I wasn’t anyone’s dream.

I was the mistake people didn’t survive twice.

I lowered my mouth near her jaw, close enough to feel her breath catch.

“I’ll make it simple,” I whispered. “Room 512. Grand Oak Hotel. Ten o’clock.”

She stiffened. I saw the war flicker across her face again.

Part of her wanted to slap me. The other wanted to follow.

I let my fingers graze the curve of her ass. Barely a touch. Just enough to push her off the edge she was clinging to.

“Or,” I murmured, “you can keep pretending you’re above it all.”

---

Midnight

I poured a shot of wolfsbane and swallowed it fast. The burn scraped my throat. I welcomed it. 

The curse twisted in my gut, feral and sharp as knives.

I slammed my fist into the bedframe and dropped onto the mattress.

My face pressed into the pillow as I bit down on my arm, trying to muffle the scream that ripped through me.

It didn’t help.

I wanted to tear the room apart. I wanted to break my bones if it meant relief.

The seer’s bath had done nothing.

No vision. No clarity. No mate.

Only pain. More of it. Worse than before.

Darkness crept in. Convulsions followed. I tasted blood and understood one thing with absolute certainty.

I was running out of time.