Please Be My Mate

They arrived unannounced, as councils always did when they wanted to catch a king off guard.

Three Lycans strode into the throne hall, robes marking them as envoys of the Capital Council, faces set with the particular arrogance of men who believed rank protected them from consequence.

"My king," the eldest said, bowing just enough to satisfy protocol. "You've locked yourself in this castle for a week. The council grows uneasy. There are rumors—" a thin smile, "—that you purchased trash at some backwater auction. We've come to see this... acquisition. To judge it, as is our right."

The word landed like a struck match.

"Trash," Issac repeated, voice deceptively soft.

"Word travels, my king. A broken slave, wasn't it? Hardly fitting for—"

He never finished.

Issac crossed the hall faster than the eye could track, closing his fist around the envoy's chest before the man could so much as flinch. Bone gave way beneath his grip with a sound that silenced the room entirely. He let the body drop and turned, orange eyes blazing, toward the remaining two.

"Say it again," he said. "Tell me again what you called her."

Neither answered, Issac didn't move, he simply looked at them. Behind him, his Lycan materialized. The moment it appeared, the entire hall trembled. A crushing pressure descended upon the fortress, cracking the stone beneath their feet. Outside, the sky darkened without warning as thunder rolled across the heavens, jagged streaks of lightning tearing through the clouds.

The beast towered behind him, its massive frame wreathed in an overwhelming aura of dominance. Its molten orange eyes locked onto the two men.

In the next instant, it vanished.

A deafening impact echoed through the hall as both warriors were slammed against the wall, enormous claws wrapped around their throats. Cracks spread through the stone behind them while their feet dangled helplessly above the floor.

Then the Lycan roared.

The sound shook the fortress to its foundations. The windows shattered, thunder answered overhead, and the two men screamed as their own Lycans instinctively materialized only to immediately cower. Their beasts lowered themselves, whimpering before the King's Lycan, unable to withstand the absolute bloodline suppression.

One of the men lost control of his bladder, then the other. Issac finally stepped forward, each footfall echoing through the silent hall.

"How dare you," he said, his voice cold enough to still the air. "How dare mere foot soldiers presume to command your King."

His Lycan tightened its grip, crushing the breath from their lungs.

"Remember your place..." His glowing eyes met theirs without a trace of mercy. "...you are dogs standing before the King."

Markel hands him a clean cloth, he wiped his bloodied hand slowly, eyes never leaving the two trembling envoys.

"I have found my mate," he said. "I will mark her when the time is right, and not a moment before the council or anyone else demands it. If restraint has made you mistake me for weak, I am happy to remind you exactly who sits this throne."

He released them. They scrambled backward, cowering, and fled without another word.

Markel exhaled once they were gone. "The council will not let this go, my king. This time, they'll bring your mother into it."

Issac said nothing for a long moment, staring out over the balcony toward the glittering sprawl of his city. Lyralla was only one of three — Lypion, ruled by his mother as regent until his younger brother came of age, and Lympus, under his eldest brother's command.

He sighed, let his mother come. He had larger concerns.

Victoria found him an hour later, breathless with news. "She's awake, my king. Lady Elena has woken."

He was in her room before Victoria finished the sentence. Elena sat propped against pillows, a bowl of porridge cradled in her hands, spoon halfway to her mouth. The moment she saw him, she stopped, eyes lifting to meet his, still guarded, still distant, but no longer entirely empty.

"My Lady," Issac said gently, "you're awake."

"My lady?" She frowned faintly. "I never accepted—"

He crossed to her, kneeling so he wasn't looming above her. "I know you're not ready to trust another man, after everything. But I want you to know — I want to cherish you, Elena. Please, become my mate."

Her lips parted. She'd rehearsed his name a hundred times in her sleep, wanted to say it, and still it caught somewhere in her throat. "I...ssa...c... I..."

"It's okay," he said softly. "Take your time."

"You're a Lycan. A king." Her voice wavered. "I'm just a discarded Luna. I'm not worthy of you. I'm sure there's someone—"

His thumb pressed gently against her lips, silencing her. "No, Elena. I've met every eligible female Lycan in three cities. None of them made me ache the way I ache just looking at you. I feel complete near you. I have never felt that with anyone else."

She wanted, desperately, to believe him. She had believed words like these once before, and they had led her to a cage.

"I'm barren," she said, pulling away. "A man like you needs an heir. I can't give you that."

He'd known she would say it. Instead of arguing, he drew a blade and cut across his own palm, blood welling dark and immediate.

"I call upon the Moon," he said, voice ringing through the room, and Elena's breath caught — she knew this oath. No Lycan could break it and live.

"I, Issac Hazelgrey, swear upon the Moon Goddess, upon my ancestors, that I accept Elena as my mate. I will never betray her. Never cast her aside. If I do, may the Goddess strike me dead." A blue light erupted from his palm, a crescent mark forming beneath the wound. "I don't care that you're barren, Elena. Maybe you were sent to me so my bloodline never births another monster like me again."

Tears spilled freely now. "Is...I... Issac—"

He smiled, warm and full for the first time she'd ever seen. "You said my name. Say it again."

"Issac!"