3. The prince's chosen

LORD THERON

Searching for his mate wasn't enough. Now, he was stuck waiting for another's chosen one.

How ironic.

He shouldn't be here. He hadn't been assigned to pick the designated female for the Crown Prince, yet he'd sent Lord Beren away, taking the task himself.

All because of that female who had slipped away before dawn like a ghost a month ago.

Thinking of her made his jaw clench because it was his own damn fault.

He had made the mistake of never seeing her face, allowing her to conceal her identity behind that veil. He should have torn it away when he had the chance. Should have put his fang to better use and mark her.

He shouldn't have sent men to track her in his stead because he couldn't leave his critical mission.

Now, he was left with nothing but regret, sleepless nights, and memories of her haunting his mind.

Lycans hardly find their fated mate.

Most don't, only holding onto chosen mates instead.

So when such a rarity occurs, they become overly possessive.

Theron never counted himself as one of those Lycans. In fact, he never yearned for a bond.

As grand marshal, he was unreservedly occupied with many tasks.

But that night never stopped replaying. It never stopped haunting his sleep like a battle he could never win, returning each night with the same cruel persistence.

Then, last week, he finally caught a hint of her trace. The she-devil who had cruelly stolen his peace was in this pack.

He wasn't sure whether to punish or cage her for triggering him like this.

He'd searched the entire pack and still come up empty-handed.

The Alpha's domain was the last place he'd search, and the only way to get in without suspicion was to act as an envoy from the Crown Prince.

When the door finally opened to the designated female, his body stiffened.

That sudden scent. That presence. It made him tilt his head up, his curiosity immediately sharpening.

The air went still.

That auburn hair. That clever, almond-shaped sapphire-blue eyes. Those skin so soft and radiant... All familiar.

His brows knitted at her, especially at the way she stiffened when their eyes locked.

Her heart was pounding so fast it filled his ears. A heavy thump of fear and shock.

Something was not right.

He couldn't pinpoint it, but this female was making his blood boil oddly, like something was being restricted from reaching him.

She can't be the one he had been looking for, could she?

"My Lord. The Alpha awaits your response."

Theron snapped out of the trance at the voice of Zarin, only then did he realize Alpha Reavion had been calling him.

"Pardon me, my lord." Something about Theron's gaze made the Alpha more nervous. "May I know your counsel regarding my daughter?"

Theron glanced back at the female, now avoiding his gaze, her hand subtly clutching her dress.

"Leave." Theron's voice cut through the room.

She shot him a look.

"I want to speak with her alone," he said, holding her gaze.

They did, and in the next breath, Theron could barely hear the chairs scraping and the door shutting.

Silence struck the room.

Theron said nothing for a long while. His gaze never left her, while hers remained fixed on the floor, head bowed, the unsettled expression he'd caught before now carefully masked.

"You wish to speak with me, my lord?"

Theron squinted, trying to compare her voice with the one that had moaned under him that night, but still couldn't, because the female that night was too careful enough not to utter a word.

And he was too naive to let her.

He rose, steps slow and deliberate as he stalked toward the designated female.

"Look at me," he demanded as his frame towered over her.

Her eyes slowly lifted to his.

"Have we met?"

Her scent was close now, and his wolf greedily wanted to tear free from an invisible restraint.

"I've heard great tales about you, my lord. I've always wanted to know the man behind such bravery, but I hadn't met that man until now."

He scoffed. Her words were too careful.

Then, with one tug, he loosened the strap of her dress.

A coarse hiss tore from her throat, eyes wide.

"What are you doing?!" She tried to move, only for him to loosen another strap.

"My Lord!" she yelped, catching her dress before it fell.

She tried to get away, but his frame pinned her against the wall, and with another tug, her auburn hair spilled free, cascading down her shoulder like a waterfall of burning dark flame set loose.

When she tried to stop him, he grabbed both her hands and pinned them above her head, then hovered his other hand over her nose and lips.

His eyes assessed her, searching for familiarity.

"Do you assault every woman under your charge?!" Her voice was sharp as a blade. "Even the Crown Prince's chosen? I had hoped the rumors about Lycans were nothing but a farce. Perhaps I was the credulous one."

He squinted, but no anger pierced his chest. Instead, he lowered his hand, pinning her with a rather deferential gaze as he stepped away.

"Forgive me, Lady... Tarianne," his voice lacking sincerity. "I must had mistaken you for someone else. The travel is long. I'll wait for you outside."

As he stepped out, Theron felt almost crazy for scaring her like that.

That was unlike him.

He joined his squire, who had just finished preparing the carriage for travel.

"Are we really to leave, my lord?" his squire asked.

"What else are we waiting for, Zarin?"

Zarin ignored the irritation in his voice and whispered, "And your mate? Shall we abandon the search?"

Theron shot him a glare.

"We leave," he bit out, and Zarin stifled the urge to press further.

Theron glanced back at the path he'd come from

Perhaps he was wrong.

There's no way the Prince's Chosen could have been the female in that cave. There was no bond. However, he couldn't deny the odd, feral twist in his chest.

"Send an order to the scouts and have them make a deep investigation into The Prince's Chosen." He paused, jaw tightening. "Something about her doesn't sit right. And I intend to find out what."