Chapter 2 | The Heir

JACE W.

-*-

I let out a hungry sigh, my fingers gliding along the curve of her shoulder. Her body shudders in response, a quiet moan slipping past her lips as shivers ripple through her silky skin. Desire flickers in her eyes as she straddles my waist, her hands exploring every inch of my bare chest with deliberate slowness. A groan rumbles in my throat, reveling in the warmth of her skin pressed against mine.

Then, a rebellious hand ventures lower, tracing a scorching path down my torso. The second I register where she's headed, I grab her wrist, halting her movements.

"Don't—"

A teasing chuckle leaves her lips, her grin widening as she interrupts, "No one has to know."

"You know I can't, Selena."

Her pout is perfectly practiced, a silent plea wrapped in feigned innocence, but it does little to sway me. She must realize it too, because she sighs, withdrawing her hand with an air of reluctant surrender. And yet, the expression lingers—a flicker of hope still dancing in her pearly eyes, as if willing me to cave, to give her what she wants.

Most might be put off by such a girlish attempt at manipulation. Me? I welcome it.

Anything to make this fleeting moment of freedom last just a little longer.

"Anything else for you, Alpha?" she murmurs, a playful lilt in her voice.

I smirk, my grip tightening as I effortlessly flip her onto her back, pressing her delicate frame beneath me. Her breath hitches, eyes shimmering with unrestrained excitement as my lips trail along the curve of her neck, savoring the heat of her skin.

 "Keep talking to me, baby," I growl, pressing closer, allowing myself just a bit more freedom.

She gasps, then lets out a soft moan, feigning a struggle as heat radiates between us. Her intoxicating scent fills my lungs—sweet, heady, unmistakable. She's a real pearl too. Golden locks, ocean-blue eyes, a body that could drive any wolf insane. And yet, a gnawing pit lingers in my stomach, refusing to be ignored. It festers, growing with every reckless second I push my limits—driven by the insatiable urge to see just how far I can go before it all comes crashing down.

Ignore it, Jace. Let go. Just enjoy.

A sharp knock snaps me out of my thoughts. Before I can react, the door swings open, hinges screaming in protest. My father stands in the doorway, arms crossed, his scowl burning into me like a brand.

Shit.

The room turns pin-drop silence. The tension is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Seizing the moment, Selena swiftly flips me onto my side, her victory marked by a smug, teasing smile. If not for my father's crushing glare boring into me, I might've pushed the game even further—just to see how far I could take it.

Instead, I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair.

"Get ready for the ceremony."

Selena scrambles off me, her movements hurried but unbothered. She slips on her jeans over midnight-black lingerie, winks at me, and gathers the rest of her clothes from the floor. As she reaches the door, she bows respectfully to my father before slipping past him with a giggle barely concealed beneath her blouse. He barely spares her a glance, his piercing black gaze drilling into me, unaffected by the scene he just walked in on.

His lips curl into a slow, simmering snarl.

"You're seriously testing my patience, Jace," he growls, his brow arching. "The entire pack has gathered outside for you, and yet here you are, hooking up with some girl? Have I not warned you already about this behavior?"

I stretch out lazily on the bed, propping myself up on one elbow. "What? I can't have a little fun before my big day?" A slow, contemptuous smile tugs at my lips.

His expression darkens. "Your mating ceremony is in fifteen minutes."

I roll my eyes, exhaling sharply. Ah, right. That. Already bracing for the same old lecture, I push off the mattress and move to grab a fresh set of clothes.

The mating ceremony. Despite its suggestive name, it's not nearly as scandalous as it sounds. The process is simple—every eligible female in the pack lines up before me. Some offer gifts, hoping to stand out, but in the end, all that matters is the stare. A gaze locked, a moment held, and maybe—just maybe—a connection sparks.

I've done this twice before. This year marks my third. And while a fresh line of hopeful women waits outside, I already know how this ends. Westons don't have fated mates—we choose them. 

So why should I bother with this ridiculous ceremony when, in the end, the choice is mine? The whole thing is a meaningless tradition, a spectacle for the pack. A waste of my damn time.

I zip my fly, yanking my shirt off the floor as my father's gaze bores into me, his disappointment palpable.

"Nothing to worry about, Pops," I say, flashing a smug grin. "See?" I gesture at myself. "Already dressed. And look at that—still got thirteen minutes to spare." I tap my watch with mock enthusiasm, fully aware that I'm only stoking the flames of his growing fury.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily. "Just get down there. And for once, try to take this seriously. You won't be able to screw around with other girls once—"

But I don't hear the rest—I'm already gone. Arguing with him is pointless. I could spell out my perspective until I'm blue in the face, but the old man would never get it.

You can't teach an old dog new tricks... or a new mentality.

Descending the spiral staircase, I fasten the buttons of my black tuxedo with meticulous precision, smoothing out any stray threads or specks of lint. The suit is sharp—jet-black hair, tan skin, a crisp white shirt beneath a sleek black vest. Minimal color, but it makes a statement.

Reaching the final step, I take a sharp left, heading toward the hallway where a grand oval mirror stands proudly among the framed family portraits. With the confidence of a lion, I pause, giving myself one last once-over, ensuring every detail is flawless. I may not care for this ceremony, but that doesn't mean I'll waste a chance to turn heads. Just as I'm about to turn away, a looming figure materializes behind me, its presence unmistakable. The air shifts, thickening with an all-too-familiar energy, and I catch the imposing silhouette in the mirror's reflection before I even need to turn around.

"Admiring yourself?"

The booming voice drips with amusement, disrupting my final adjustments. I grind my teeth and glance over my shoulder.

"How's the Star boy doing this morning?" He smirks, his porcelain-white teeth flashing.

I suppress a groan. Blond, blue-eyed, built like a damn tank—Cade, the Beta's son, has been my designated bodyguard since childhood. The guy takes his job painfully seriously, but at the end of the day, he's nothing more than my father's personal lapdog—always trailing behind me like my damn shadow, sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, and meddling in my personal life as if it's his own. What's worse? He acts like we're best buddies—like there's some unspoken bond between us. Or at the very least, he tries to keep up the facade, as if I don't see right through it.

Before I can react, his thick arms lock around my neck, nearly crushing my windpipe in an overzealous show of affection. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was trying to kill me. Still, I let him drag me from the hallway to the living room, unwilling to risk wrinkling my suit in a struggle.

The sound of a woman's soft, melodic laughter pulls me from my thoughts, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension I just escaped. Finally freed from my unwelcome captivity, I take a brief moment to smooth out my suit, ensuring it remains spotless. Only once I'm satisfied do I lift my head- ready to acknowledge whoever has captured his attention.

That's when I see her. The woman standing by his side.

She's breathtaking.

Curly red hair cascades over her shoulders, cherry-red lips parting in a radiant smile over pearly white teeth. Pale skin, a chiseled jaw framed by dark green glasses amd the silk dress hugging her curves is enough to drive any wolf to the brink of insanity. But her eyes—those deep, knowing eyes—hold something more. In an instant, I'm hooked—unable to tear my eyes away, drawn in by something almost magnetic. There's an effortless allure about her, a beauty that demands attention without even trying.

Where did she come from?

Cade beams, arm wrapped around her waist as he leans in, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss as though they had forgotten I was present.

I shift my weight, clearing my throat when they don't immediately separate. I know my ceremony is in five minutes, but I'm not the kind of guy to sink low enough to steal another man's girl—not that it matters. She's way out of my league anyway.

Finally, they pull away, cheeks flushed.

Cade's grin somehow manages to widen with his words. "Jace, I'd like you to meet—

- Alexandra."

Her name rolls off my tongue like venom, my jaw tightening as recognition slams into me. The Beta's daughter. The first transfer student accepted into our pack's University in decades. 

In fact, we've met before—years ago. And to say we never got along would be putting it lightly.

Alexandra is the type of high-class, academic perfectionist I've always preferred to keep at arm's length. The kind who walks with her nose just a little too high, who carries herself like she's always the smartest person in the room.

Sure, she's beautiful—undeniably so. But something about that sharp tongue and ever-present smirk has always rubbed me the wrong way. How Cade manages to handle a woman like her is beyond me—a mystery I doubt I'll never solve.

As if reading my mind, Cade offers reassurance—or at least, he tries.

"Your father agreed it would be best if I stepped away from my duties for a while," he continues, completely oblivious to the irritation simmering beneath my skin. "Alex and I are taking some time to start a family. She'll be staying here until then."

His hand drifts over her stomach with a tenderness that feels almost out of place. And that's when I see it—the faintest swell beneath the smooth silk of her dress. Subtle, but unmistakable.

A silent declaration of what's to come.

My stomach twists. I blink, forcing my expression into something neutral. 

"That's wonderful," I say, my tone dripping with forced enthusiasm. "Sure would've loved to know about your little miracle sooner, but I guess my bodyguard's sudden hiatus isn't that important."

Their smiles falter,a mix of concern and shock flickering between them. I groan inwardly. So much for taking this seriously.

Without another word, I turn on my heel, heading for the courtyard. "Excuse me," I mutter, shoving my hands into my pockets. "I have a mate to meet."

A heavy silence clings to me as I stride toward the grand entrance, their unspoken words pressing against my back like a tangible weight. I can feel their gazes—burning, questioning—but I don't stop. I don't look back. Although part of me is relieved—no longer burdened by his constant surveillance or the intrusion into my life—I refuse to let my lingering irritation toward Alexandra taint this unexpected moment of victory.

At last, the towering doors loom ahead, golden engravings glinting beneath the morning light. My gaze lands on the three words carved into the wood:

Honos. Superbia. Propositum.

Honor. Pride. Purpose.

Words hammered into every Weston wolf from birth. Funny how three simple words can hold such weight—shaping identities, dictating fates, becoming the very foundation of one's existence.

I inhale deeply, tasting the crisp morning air, thick with the scent of dew and anticipation. As the doors creak open, my eyes land on the line of women waiting for me.

A hush falls over the crowd.

I hold my breath.

Today, I will prove my purpose.