Two mates for the Mafia Heir

Chapter 1: The Golden Cage

Ezra

The crystal chandeliers above the grand hall burned too bright, casting sharp golden light across hundreds of perfectly dressed wolves pretending to care about peace. I stood on the marble steps in my ceremonial white suit, silver embroidery catching the light and smiled like I meant it.

Twenty-two years of peace. Twenty-two years since my fathers… Alpha Damon and the legendary male Omega Milo… defeated Queen Millen and rebuilt this broken world. Twenty-two years, and tonight every noble pack from the United Territories had crammed into our palace to celebrate the day they survived extinction.

I was their Golden Prince. Their perfect symbol.

And I was burning alive from the inside out.

"Prince Ezra." Lady Veraine glided toward me, her crimson gown flowing like blood across the white stone. Her daughter trailed behind, eyes downcast in that practiced Omega submission that made my skin crawl. "May I present my daughter, Celeste? She would be honored to share a dance."

Celeste lifted her gaze, and I must confess I was shocked.

She was pretty and delicate. Exactly what the Council wanted for me… a nice, traditional Omega bride to continue the royal bloodline and cement another powerful birth, just like my fathers.

My chest burned.

I forced my smile wider. "I am honored, Lady Veraine, but I am afraid I have promised the next dance to…"

"His fathers." Damon's deep voice cut through the crowd like a blade. My father appeared at my side, tall and commanding in black formal wear, his Alpha presence making lesser wolves step back instinctively. "Milo wants to steal our son for a moment."

Lady Veraine's disappointment barely showed, but I caught it. Another failed matchmaking attempt on the prince who refused to choose a mate.

If only they knew.

Damon guided me through the crowd with a firm hand on my shoulder. We found Milo near the eastern balcony, his purple eyes… the same shade as mine… tracking my face with that unsettling parental intuition that always saw too much.

"You are pale," Milo said quietly, immediately he set his eyes on me.

"I am fine."

"Liar." But he smiled, soft and sad. "The marks?"

My hand moved instinctively to my chest, where beneath silk and silver thread, three crescent-shaped marks burned like brands against my skin. One was black as midnight over my heart. One silver as starlight between my shoulder blades. While the last one, was gold in colour like the sunrise, on my left wrist.

"They are manageable," I lied again.

Damon's jaw tightened. "Ezra…"

"I said I am fine." The words came out sharper than intended. Heat pulsed beneath my skin, power coiling in my veins like a living thing trying to claw its way out. I breathed through it, counting my heartbeats until the pressure calmed down.

"I…I just need air."

I didn't wait for permission. I turned and walked towards the balcony… making sure not to look at my father Milo, who already had glistening eyes.

The night air hit my face like a blessing. I gripped the stone railing and sucked in deep breaths, trying to cool the fire raging in my blood.

"Rough party?"

I spun around, to see a young man leaning against the balcony archway, half-hidden in shadow. He wore Servant's clothes, simple and dark, but the way he looked at me was anything but submissive. Dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and eyes that gleamed with something hungry.

That caught my interest but I clamped down my urge immediately.

"You shouldn't be here," I said.

"Neither should you." He pushed off the wall and stepped closer. "The Golden Prince, hiding from his own celebration."

"I am not hiding."

"No?" He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve. "Then what are you doing?"

Burning up, Dying. Lying to everyone I love.

"Thinking," I said instead.

He laughed, low and rough. "Dangerous habit for princes."

The heat beneath my skin pulsed again, but this time it felt different. Sharper and Hungrier. I should send him away. Should call the guards. Should do literally anything except stare at the way moonlight caught the curve of his throat.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Does it matter?"

"Probably not."

He moved closer, close enough that his smell wafted into my nose.

pine and smoke and something wild that made my wolf stir restlessly beneath my skin. "You look like you need to break something."

"I look like I need to break something?"

"Or someone." His hand came up, fingers brushing my jaw. "You are shaking."

I was. The marks were burning hotter now, responding to proximity, to touch, to the reckless desire flooding my system. I should stop this, should probably step back, before I do something I regret.

I grabbed his wrist instead and yanked him closer.

He came willingly, mouth finding mine with a hunger that matched the fire in my blood. I dove inside his warm haven, kissing him hard, tasting desperation and defiance and the sweet relief of not having to be perfect for just one goddamn minute.

His hands fisted in my jacket. Mine slid into his hair. We crashed back against the stone railing, all teeth and heat and the kind of reckless passion that would get me dragged before the Council if anyone saw.

I didn't care, at this point, because my wolf was now taking control.

My wolf surged, power flooding my limbs with supernatural strength. I spun us, pinning him against the balcony wall that cracked against impact, nothing he couldn't handle.

A gasp tore through his throat, but it got swallowed in my mouth. I smelled his fear and something else, something that was familiar but I couldn't differentiate in my kind of state.

The black mark on my chest suddenly flared with a searing heat.

Pain lanced through me, sudden and vicious. I jerked back with a choked sound, pressing my palm against my sternum as agony burned through my insides.

"Shit… are you okay?" The servant reached for me.

"Don't." I stumbled backward, fighting for control as my vision blurred against the edges. The mark was rejecting him, same way it had rejected every fucking person I touch in my entire life.

“Not our mate.”

“Never my mate.” my wolf chanted inside my head.

"I am sorry," I managed. "You need to go."

"But…"

"Now!"

He fled.

I collapsed against the railing, gasping as the pain slowly receded to its usual background burn.

"Ezra!" Milo's voice cut through the haze. He rushed onto the balcony, face already filled with concern. Damon right behind him. "What happened? We felt your distress through the bond…"

The sound of an explosion shattered the night.

The palace shook from whatever impact it was. Screams erupted from inside the ballroom as windows burst inward, raining glass across marble floors. Alarm bells began to ring, harsh and discordant.

Damon's eyes flashed Alpha-gold, pulling Milo behind him.

"We are under attack."

And just like that, my burning marks became the least of my problems.