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Chapter#04

Author: AIMEN
last update Last Updated: 2025-07-07 12:48:52

KAEL

I was in the back of the car, staring out the tinted window, fury etched into every line of my face. The city lights rushed past in silver and gold blurs, unnatural, gaudy, just like everything else about tonight. I pulled at my tie, getting it loose at the neck, around which obligation already seemed to be strangling me.

Werewolf and Lycan parties. Mate hunt ceremonies. Perfume-soaked, politics-infused, fake-ass balls. It was all, every bit of it, a farce. A well-rehearsed show in which nothing was true and everyone wore a mask behind it all.

A parade of fake smiles, sharp teeth, suits tailored, and glittering gowns.

Small talk between the ones who'd kill each other as soon as the lights went out.

I despised it.

And yet, as the Lycan Leader, not only had I been expected… I’d been demanded. That was the part of my title I hated most. I hadn’t asked for this role. But I hadn’t clawed my way to the top for applause or admiration. I led because there was no one else who could. Because the world had been chaos, and I was able to control it.

But gatherings of this nature, in which power took a back seat to appearances, irritated me like nothing else.

And they were fraught with desperate attempts to suck up, fake compliments, and hands that shook mine only to gauge how hard I squeezed.

It was all noise and theater.

I rested my back against the leather bench. I closed my eyes for a moment and ran a hand through my hair, hoping to smooth down the building frustration.

“Another evening wasted,” I muttered.

The driver, wisely, said nothing, keeping his eyes on the road.

I couldn't even remember how many of these fucking nights I'd already been through. How many potential mates had tried to make me notice them? How many fathers and Alphas had thrown their daughters in my face like pieces of meat for sale?

None of it made any difference in any case because they didn’t know me, and they didn’t want to.

To them, I was a crown. A throne. A prize to win.

But the price of being the most powerful man in our world came with a price: Isolation.

No one touched me without a reason. No one spoke to me without thinking. Even my closest pals were connected more by fidelity than genuine blood.

This world we inhabited was founded on pretense, control, and lies cloaked in tradition.

Even the Moon Goddess, our supposed creator, sat in silence while her children ripped each other to pieces in her name. And the mate bond? It was overrated nonsense. A trick of biology and desire that people garbed in prophecy and destiny.

I had no patience for it.

And yet there I was, rolling inexorably toward another sparkling jail, where I would once again have to feign a role I’d never wanted, killing time for hours until I could escape, until I could be alone.

We pulled up to the grand ballroom, and I glowered at the ostentatious building. Red carpet and bright lights were a façade, disguising what was, in fact, inside. Irritation surged through me. I didn’t belong here.

The door creaked, and my grandfather, Ashvale, marched out like a man half his years. His piercing eyes were focused on me while I remained in the car, not moving to come after.

He would demand that he come to make sure I showed up. And honestly? He wasn’t wrong to doubt me.

“Is this really necessary, Grandpa?” I asked. I was getting a touch resentful by the time I appeared, my voice thick with it. “I have better things to do than stand here so everyone can kiss my butt.”

Ashvale raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “As long as you’re the Lycan Leader, you have responsibilities… one of which is this. Until you come home with a mate, you’ll be forced to go to these galas and pairing ceremonies. It’s tradition.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tradition, my foot,” I scoffed. “You know I don’t give a shit about that. I’m not a lovesick puppy chasing a fated mate. And I don’t want you talking to me like I’m a child. I’m the Lycan Leader, remember?”

Ashvale’s gaze hardened. “You’re not a whole leader until you find a mate. I was married and had your father at your age,” he puffed. “This is not a command, Kael, it is an obligation. Now, go in. But I’ll be waiting, so don’t even think of slinking away.”

I grit my teeth, holding back a response. There was no use arguing with him when he was like this. I turned on the ball of my foot and marched into the ballroom.

The second I stepped into the room, the place went silent. Heads were turning, whispers were running through the audience, and I could feel every pair of eyes bearing down on me. I thought it was disgusting… people watching, the subtle ass-kissing. It was exhausting.

I retreated to the opposite side of the room, avoiding people who weren't worth a second glance. But before long, a steady stream of young Alphas and Betas approached, each more eager than the last. I suffered their hellos and their circuitous talks, smiling politely with my attention and thoughts elsewhere.

This was my pattern: show up, suffer, and get out of there as soon as I could. I was in the process of figuring out how to leave when something funny caught my eye.

A scent. Sweet, primal, and intoxicating... unlike anything I'd ever known. Through the specious perfumes and the cloying aftershave, it came, pulling at me like a magnet. I stiffened. I was awake, scanning the room, feeling the sandpaper fill my nose. My wolf, Fenrir, reared up and whimpered inside of me, pacing about in spirals and pushing me to track the origin.

Then I saw her.

A young woman was alone at the rear of the ballroom. She was flushed, her eyes open and wild, searching the room like a trapped animal. She didn’t fit in here… that was for sure.

She seemed out of place among the well-dressed crowd, an ugly shard of glass among the crystal. Flaxen tangles cascaded around her, shaping her face in messy swirls around her head. And her dress was sticking to her as if she’d been running.

It wasn’t just her appearance I was drawn to. It was the scent.

She reminded me of someone I’d seen.

An Omega who was desperate for me at one time, now shivering and flushed, seemingly wanting to fling herself into my arms, if she just handed herself over, that would somehow cross the chasm between us. This girl had that same edge to her.

But there was something else, too. Something I couldn’t yet name.

Those around her scrunched up their faces in disgust. The last was a word I’d learned to live without,  but Fenrir stirred with a low growl, whispering one word through my bones: MATE!

I looked into her eyes, and for a moment everything went hazy. The sound of the gala receded as my heart thundered in my ears. The arousing scent made me come in despite myself. Fenrir surged forward, ready to have her, but voices around us made me return to myself.

“Why can’t she control her pheromones? Pathetic,” someone sneered.

“Guess that’s what you get when you don’t have a wolf. No wonder she’s by herself,” another crowed with laughter.

“Wolfless deviant. She doesn’t belong here.”

My jaw tightened. Fenrir snapped at the insult that was thrown at her, but I held him back. So this was it, a pariah, a werewolfless werewolf whose body she could not command. A deviant. Out of every woman the Goddess could’ve fated to me… she chose the one the world had already discarded. Cruel doesn’t begin to cover it.

I studied her for a moment. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want her. I’d never bought that premade mates crap, and a wolfless mate… it was even worse. I’d walked headfirst into a liability so dangerous, my reputation would be trampled, and I’d be pitted against those I led.

I went to leave, but Fenrir growled, and suddenly I was walking toward her. I shoved Fenrir back... barely. She was a complication, an inconvenient truth I wasn’t ready to claim, and I already had too many complications.

A last look at her. I looked askance. She’d always be an outcast, a freak with nowhere in my world. I would remain the untethered leader, not bound to an appointed mate.

As I made for the exit, a motion caught my eye.

A young Alpha had her cornered, with two of his tethered minions at his sides. I had his number immediately: rich, conceited, besotted with his rank, and stupid enough to believe that having power gives a person the right to touch whatever he pleases.

She was up against the wall, obviously cornered. She stiffened as he looked in, feeling his arm caging her in, his minions flanking him like guards.

Then he grabbed her.

His palm gripped at her breast painfully, and her body jerked in response… whether from fear or the insatiable tug of her heat, I couldn’t tell.

I just felt this rage hit me like waves of fire. It was abrupt. That was assault, and every part of me wanted to stop it, to claw him away from her and break his wrist and throw him to the ground for daring to touch her that way.

But I didn’t move. I restrained myself as fists balled at my sides. I didn’t know why I froze.

Perhaps what I’d already worn wore my attention tonight. Or perhaps it was the weight of the crown I bore that required self-discipline over impulse. Or, possibly, I was holding out to see exactly how much he would push it.

Then his hand inched down… and that was it.

A low, dangerous growl ripped out of my throat before I could stop it.

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