Chapter Four: Nowhere Without Me

The royal meeting room in Astrea City was filled with tension.

Prince Bellamy stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his emerald-green eyes following the silver mist rolling over the capital below. Behind him, Gamma Kaelen stood at attention, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the strategy table.

"The High Council is in a frenzy, Prince," Kaelen reported, his usual steady voice carrying an unusual strain. “The entire capital is whispering. The Lycan King’s monthly Berserk phase ended almost as soon as it began. He broke his celestial steel chains under the Pink Moon, fell eerily silent, then vanished across the human border… and somehow, he’s calm.”

Bellamy didn't turn around. He knew exactly what the three factions were doing in the shadows. 

"They believe he finally marked the Saint of Vrykania," Kaelen continued hesitantly, lowering his eyes. "Lady Seraphina's family is already preparing the celebration. But... what do we do about the human girl, Prince?" 

"We do nothing," Bellamy replied coldly. 

"But if the Council finds out—if the prophecy is real—" Kaelen stepped forward in desperation. "Our defensive lines won't hold if the barrier fractures. We are supposed to protect him."

"Nothing will happen," Bellamy cut him off. "The girl is fragile. A supreme Lycan marking would shatter her body instantly. The prophecy is toothless if he cannot even mark her. We do not draw attention to her." 

Kaelen swallowed hard, his jaw tight. "And if she isn't as human as we think? Prince, she is Devon’s blood—"

The heavy doors burst open at that moment.

A suffocating pressure filled the room. Before Kaelen could even draw breath, a massive, rugged blur slammed into him.

Devon’s gray-green eyes flashed a feral, monstrous silver. He had the Gamma pinned against the stone wall, his broad, scarred hands wrapping around Kaelen's throat.

The sound of Kaelen's windpipe straining echoed through the room.

"Are you suggesting they slaughter my sister to protect their precious throne?" Devon snarled, his wolf, Fenrir, roaring just beneath his skin. The raw aura he usually suppressed leaked out, heavy enough to make the Gamma's knees buckle.

"It’s bad enough that monster has crawled into her life. I don't give a damn about your shitty prophecy!"

"Beta! Submission.”

The emerald glow in the Prince's eyes flared, forcing Devon's muscles to lock. With a lethal grin, Devon slowly released his grip, stepping back as Kaelen collapsed, gasping for air.

"Watch your language, Devon. You are speaking of the Moon Goddess's design," Bellamy warned softly. He turned his gaze back to the trembling Gamma.

"Pass the official word to the Council: Lycan Theron left the kingdom to oversee an exclusive human corporate expansion. Tell them he grew bored of Vrykania's affairs and decided to personally handle the human business world. A single whisper about a human mate, Kaelen, and I will let Devon finish what he started."

****

Across Vrykania, Rhiannon stood frozen on the concrete steps of the library, her fingers white where they gripped the straps of her backpack.

‘Just pretend, he doesn’t exist.’ She thought, taking a deep breath to steady herself. ‘It’s bad enough Devon’s gone, and Talia isn’t answering me properly. I am not letting that arrogant corporate shark ruin my day too.’

Ignoring the sudden ache in her chest, Rhiannon spun on her heel and marched toward her seminar hall. She wanted to get as far away from his suffocating, mint-and-frost scent as possible.

Ten minutes later, she sank into a seat in the back row of the lecture hall, letting out a long breath.

The room buzzed with excited whispers. Every student seemed more interested in the empty podium than their textbooks.

“Did you guys see the convoy outside?” the girl in front whispered excitedly.

“My roommate works in administration. She said the university’s biggest benefactor is teaching today’s lecture.”

“A guest lecturer?”

“No, apparently he’s taking over the entire course.”

Rhiannon’s stomach did a violent flip. ‘What…?’

The doors of the lecture hall swung open. The entire room fell into a dead, breathless silence.

Theron walked in, carrying nothing but an aura of dominance. He stepped up to the podium, unbuttoning his tailored suit jacket, his dark eyes sweeping over the lecture hall.

He didn't scan the crowd. He looked directly to the back row. Directly at her.

‘She’s ours,’ Acheron purred loudly in the deep recesses of Theron’s mind, the primordial beast practically rolling over in submission at the mere sight of her fierce, glaring face. ‘Let’s take her home and mark her.’

Theron forced the beast down, his exterior remaining as chilled and calculating as ice.

"My name is Professor Vance," his deep baritone rolled through the acoustics of the room, sending a strange, involuntary shiver down Rhiannon’s spine. "I do not tolerate lateness, I do not tolerate mediocrity, and I do not tolerate disruptions. Open your texts to page forty."

The class scrambled to obey. But they couldn’t stop the whisper coming from their mouths.

“Oh my God, do you see those tattoos? The snake one climbing up his neck?”

“I swear I saw another one disappearing beneath his cuff.”

“Imagine what the rest of him looks like.

I bet his entire body is covered.”

“He looks like he signed a deal with the devil. The hottest deal I’ve ever seen.”

"Same," another girl agreed, not even trying to be subtle. "He looks like he would absolutely ruin you. Like, emotionally, physically, spiritually. And honestly? I'm here for it. My panties are soaked just thinking about him pinning me to that desk."

The whispers rippled through the rows like wildfire, growing bolder with each passing second.

"Did you see his hands? Those are working hands. Imagine what he could do with those—"

"Girl, stop. You're going to make me combust in the middle of World Literature."

Rhiannon let out a loud scoff. She crossed her arms and stared at Theron, her textbook remaining firmly shut on her desk.

The whispering students immediately turned to her with a glare.

“What’s up with her?”

“She thinks she’s better than us?”

Theron’s eyes narrowed, a spark of violet-gold flickering in his gaze. "Miss...?"

"Rhiannon," she spoke up, her voice clear and completely unintimidated by his presence. "Some of us prefer to listen before we read, Professor."

A collective gasp rippled through the students at her blatant boldness.

“Is she crazy? Who does she think she is?”

“She’s definitely getting kicked out.”

Theron stared at her for a long moment. Everyone expected he would throw her out by how intimidating he looks. But instead, the corner of his mouth ticked upward.

Acheron was practically howling with pride inside him.

"Very well, Rhiannon," Theron murmured,

his dark gaze pinned her in place. "Let us see if your mind is as sharp as your tongue."

For the next two hours, the lecture hall became a battlefield. Theron directed every complex, biting question straight to the back row, trying to corner her. But Rhiannon fired back each time, her stubborn nature refusing to let him win.

When the bell finally rang, the students hurried to pack their things. Some lingered near the podium, stealing nervous glances at Theron before slipping out of the lecture hall.

Many directed a glare at Rhiannon before they left.

“What a way of getting the professors’ attention.”

“Shameless. I can’t believe she scoffed at us, when she’s just trying to get his attention.”

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “Trust me,” she muttered under her breath, “I’d happily donate his attention to someone else.”

She stayed right in her seat, even as the hall emptied.

As soon as they were all gone, she stood up, grabbed her backpack, and marched down the steps toward the podium.

"Are you completely shameless?" she demanded, slamming her palms onto the table. "You followed me to school? My brother paid you to be a security guard, Vance, not to hijack my education."

Theron didn't blink. Slowly, he closed his laptop, straightened his cuffs, and stepped out from behind the podium.

Before Rhiannon could step back, he closed the distance between them. His massive frame completely boxed her in, backing her up against the edge of the wooden table.

His scent wrapped around her, making her breath hitch. He leaned down, his face barely inches from hers.

"I told you this morning, little bird," Theron whispered, his deep baritone brushing directly against her ear, sending a sudden jolt straight to her heart. "You go nowhere without me. I will follow you everywhere. And I am personally responsible for taking you home."

Rhiannon’s heart skipped, a familiar, dull ache bloomed against her ribs. She forced herself to swallow the pain, glaring up into his pitch-black eyes with frustration.

"What's next then?" she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you going to live at my house, too?"

Theron paused, a slow smile grazing his lips.

"That," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips before rising back to her eyes, "is an excellent idea."

"I was being sarcastic!" Rhiannon snapped, her face flushed as she shoved against his iron-hard chest. He didn't budge an inch. "You are not moving into my apartment!"

Theron caught her wrists, his grip remarkably gentle yet entirely inescapable.

“If my presence in your apartment troubles you so much, little bird… there’s another option.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What option?”

Theron tilted his head with a calm expression, his eyes gleaming in the dim lecture hall light. "You can move in with me."