Cael

Cael's POV

The scent of lavender lingered around me. I tossed and turned in my bed. My wolf growling, and making my sleepless night worse. I should have tasted her at least once. Savored the storm that she is, the scent that owns me right now. The lavender, rain, and wild magic..

Fuck.

My claws flexed beneath my skin, my wolf begging me to go find her.

She’s a witch, for God's sake. I can’t let someone so stubborn and reckless, too bold for her own good, into out life. She’d complicate things, and damn it all, she is a witch!

I need to sever this mate bond before it sinks its claws any deeper. My wolf is relentless, the beast inside me deaf to reason, driven only by the wild urge to claim what it believes is ours.

Which was impossible; I can’t accept her as my mate.

It was dangerous.

Deadly, even. 

I tangled my fingers in my hair, pressing my nails into my scalp, hoping the pain would steady me. I try to steady my breath, but the tightness in my chest only spreads.

Memories of a past that I wish I could forget, but the moon goddess would send me into the pits of hell if I ignored who I was and the past that brought me here today.

Flashes of my childhood flicker through my mind, shadows of the crown that should rest on my brow haunting every memory.

The past didn’t stay far away; it crashed over me, pulling me under until I could taste blood.

I remember the freedom of my youth, running with a pack, the First Wolves. The moonlight turned our pelts silver, and the wind, which always felt like a kiss, made it all feel so real and felt so right. The laughter my mother had when she saw her children practicing shifting. The rumble of my brother’s voice as we fought with our swords and my father’s voice. A voice of a king, a ruler who believed that we could lead the wolves of our world into the strongest being alive.

My family, the true High Wolves, were meant to rule, shield, and protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, as strong as an ancient mountain.

But even mountains can crack. All it took was trust, handed to the wrong hands.

The woman who came into our lives had a smile that could win the hearts of men. Hair white as snow and eyes that glowed a beautiful blue. She spoke like a queen, but didn’t treat the wolves any differently. My father let her inside our home, our pack, but it was her magic that seeped into our walls and spread poison.

I saw her whisper to a rogue alpha, his eyes hungry with power, and she fed him what was ours. Together, the High Witch and the current High Wolf took our lives apart, piece by bloody damn piece.

I should have died with my family, should have let the scars on my chest bleed out. It seems my father had a feeling that something like this would come one day, as he had spells cast over me that kept me from dying.

Sleep is a stranger tonight, banished by memories that refuse to loosen their grip. I slip from tangled sheets and drift toward my study.

The chill of the stone floor tugs me back to the present, but the memories still cling, sharp as broken glass.

The balcony door was wide open in my study, and it was my favorite place to help ground myself.

Beyond these walls lies a sanctuary, a haven for the lost and the hunted. I gathered fighters, mothers seeking shelter, and all who refused to live shackled by the curse of the High Wolves.

I created a city deep within Blackiron Mountain, the mountain itself protected by an ancient magic from a time when gods freely roamed the worlds. Today, no one comes to the woods because those who are not worthy become cursed.

At least that is what the rumors are.

Now the gods play their own joke on me. They tie me to a mate whose ancestors destroyed my family, It’s a cruel fucking joke.

I slammed my fist into the stone balcony, splitting the stone. The crack echoed through the empty room. 

“Gods, you brood worse than a widow.”

Ronan’s voice cut through the fog in my head. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed and wearing a shit-eating grin that practically dared me to throw him out.

“Don’t you have blades to sharpen?” I snapped, not bothering to hide my glare.

He shrugged, grin widening. “Sharpened them already. Thought I’d test my edge on you, seeing as you’re out here sulking and shaking the whole damn mountain with your brooding.”

“Careful, pup. I bite harder than your blades.”

Ronan just barked a laugh, unbothered.

Eira slipped in behind him, copper hair catching the firelight. She set a bottle on my desk with a thud, the scent strong enough to make my eyes water.

“Don’t waste your breath, Ronan. He’s in one of his moods.” Her eyes pinned me. “So, Alpha, which is it tonight? Brooding about the High Wolf again…”she smirked“or did something go to hell in Duskreach?”

A low growl rattled my chest before I could swallow it. “Careful, Eira.”

Ronan snorted. “That’s a yes. Look at him, jaw tight, eyes like a thunderstorm. Gods, Cael, you look like you either murdered someone or got rejected.”

Eira tilted her head, lips twitching. “Given your track record, I’m betting on the former. Our alpha hasn’t gotten laid in years.”

I slammed my palm on the desk, rattling the bottle. “Enough.”

The room went still.

One heartbeat.

Two.

Then Ronan, not even trying to hide his smirk, said, “Definitely rejected.”