Chapter 3

POV: Caius

I was shirtless, wrapped in bandages, sitting on her couch and that’s what she had to ask?

I looked at her: small, barefoot, clutching that stuffed bear. The child stared at me like she'd asked the most reasonable question in the world. What kind of pack had I wound up in? In the capital, a child would have been hushed and hurried from the room. Here, she stood her ground like a sentry.

Then I looked at her sister.

Vera Crane.

Her hair was mussed from sleeping against the couch all night, and there were dark smudges under her eyes. She still had my blood on her hands in traces under her fingernails, along the creases of her knuckles.

She was beautiful. I hadn't meant to notice. But her personality was something else. She'd told me her name like she was filing a report. She'd said "you're welcome" before I could thank her. Now she stood with her arms crossed and her jaw set, looking at me like a problem she intended to solve before lunch.

She carried you, Rend said. My wolf stirred for the first time since I'd woken. His voice was rough, half-asleep. From the yard. Alone. She's stronger than she looks.

I didn't answer him.

You've been staring at her for twelve seconds.

I cleared my thoughts.

"Cleo," Vera said, her face turning red. "Go back to your room.”

"But you said you needed a mate! And he said he'd give you whatever you need!"

Vera's blush deepened. “He's a stranger. You can't just ask people things like that. It’s not proper."

Cleo pouted and didn’t move.

She looked at me with an expression that was equal parts embarrassment and warning. "Ignore her. She's four." She pushed her hair out of her face. "She thinks a mate is something you can pick up at the market."

I should have let it go. The request was absurd. Women had lined up at court wanting to be my mate, and I'd never given any of them a second thought.

But something made me speak instead. "What does she mean you need a mate?"

Vera's jaw tightened. "It's nothing."

Cleo took two steps toward me, clutching her stuffed bear.

"Our alpha says we have to leave tomorrow," she said. "Because we don't have a daddy anymore. But if Vera has a mate, we can stay."

Vera grabbed for her, but Cleo dodged with the ease of a child who'd been dodging her whole life.

So that was it. I'd heard of packs like this. The old tradition. Weak wolves culled to strengthen the bloodline. Not every pack enforced it. Some alphas believed it made the pack harder, faster, better equipped to survive rogue attacks. Others saw it for what it was. Cruelty pretending to be common sense. I had argued that point with my father more than once. He had never agreed with me.

Two sisters. No parents. From their build, both omegas. And the child — four years old, barefoot on a cold floor. No man in this house. No one to speak for them.

Vera pressed Cleo behind her. "Don't listen to her. You don't need to get involved in our problems."

"Tell me anyway," I said.

She didn't want to. I could see it in the way her shoulders squared, the way she lifted her chin. But Cleo had already said too much, and Vera was too honest to pretend the words hadn't been spoken.

So she told me. Short and flat, like she was reading it off a list. Her parents were dead. The alpha had given her one week to find a mate or be expelled. Tomorrow was the deadline. She and Cleo had nowhere to go. She didn't cry. She didn't ask for anything. She just laid it out, and when she was done, she lifted her chin as if daring me to pity her.

The math was simple.

I shifted my weight on the couch, and the wound in my ribs pulled. I pressed my palm against the bandage and waited for the sting to pass.

My real name was Caius Thorne. First son of the Lycan King. I had a half-brother named Vance, and until two days ago, I'd treated him like blood. Our father had sent us both to investigate the rogue attacks plaguing the outer packs. I'd tracked rogue movement near this pack's border, and Vance had thanked me by driving a blade between my ribs during the fight. I still remembered the look on his face when he did it. Not rage. Not even hatred. Just calculation, like he was checking a sum.

Cleo was watching me from beside Vera, crushing her bear to her side.

Rogues kept appearing near this territory. Staying hidden here under a false name let me investigate without alerting Vance. Or my father. Let them all believe I was dead for a while.

Or, Rend said, you could just admit you don't want this woman and her cub thrown out into rogue territory.

I ignored him.

"I'll do it," I said.

Vera's head snapped toward me. "What?"

"I said I'll be your mate."

She stared at me like I'd sprouted a second head. "You can't be serious. You don't even know me."

"You dragged a bleeding stranger into your house and spent all night keeping him alive," I said. "I know enough."

"Choosing a mate is a serious decision. You don't have to do this just because you feel like you owe me."

"My debt to you aside, this isn’t out of obligation." I kept my voice even. I'd learned a long time ago that the less emotion you showed, the more people trusted your decisions. "I have my own reasons for staying in this pack. This arrangement helps us both."

Vera was quiet for a moment. She looked at Cleo, then at me. I could see her weighing it, the way I'd watched generals weigh the odds before committing troops. Whatever she saw in my face seemed to settle it.

"Three months," she said. "We'll be chosen mates for three months. That's enough time for me to figure something else out." She hesitated. "I should tell you — I already have a fated mate. But he doesn't want me. It's complicated."

My chest tightened.

"Sounds like your fated mate is an idiot," I said. The words came out sharper than I intended.

Vera blinked. Then she laughed — a real laugh, sudden and bright, and it changed her entire face.

"Maybe," she said. Then her expression turned serious, and she straightened her shoulders. "I want you to know that for these three months, I'll take care of you. I'll protect you. You have my word."

I stared at her. A hundred and twenty pounds at most, standing in a house with peeling wallpaper and a cracked window, swearing to protect me.

She's like a rabbit swearing to protect a bear, Rend said. I like her.

I didn't respond to that either.

An hour later, I was alone in the room they'd given me — small, clean, with a narrow bed and a window that overlooked the tree line. Vera had found me a shirt. Too small across the shoulders, the fabric pulling at the seams. The whole room smelled like herbal salve and old wood. Someone had folded a clean blanket at the foot of the bed. There was a chip in the water pitcher that had been turned toward the wall so I wouldn't see it. Small things. Careful things.

She'd gone to the kitchen. I could hear her singing something to Cleo while she cooked.

The mindlink opened without warning.

Your Highness. Marcus's voice, sharp with controlled alarm. My beta, the one person besides Vance who knew my exact assignment. I'm approaching your last known location for a scheduled pack inspection. Are you safe? I lost connection with you after the ambush.

I'm fine, I said. Change of plans. I'm staying in this pack under a false identity. I need to observe from the inside.

Understood. For how long?

As long as it takes. I paused. Also, I've got a mate. See to it that she's taken care of.

The silence that followed was so long I thought the link had dropped. I could picture him on the road, reins slack in his hands, staring at nothing.

Your Highness. Marcus's voice went flat. You've been missing for one day. One. And you've acquired a mate?

From the kitchen, Vera started singing to Cleo. Off-key, something about sunshine.

I closed the mindlink.