Erik's POV
I said the word without meaning to, but it got out anyway. "Mate." Inside my chest, my wolf howled with pure joy, but my human brain screamed in fear.
This is not likely to happen. Not now. Not with her.
Lyra stood still, her green eyes wide with shock. I had been smelling the sweet smell of blooms and rain all evening.
All of a sudden, it made perfect sense. It was her.
It had always been her. She was an alpha, though.
The lowest rank in our pack. And I was about to become Alpha. "Erik?" my father's voice boomed across the hall.
"What's the meaning of this interruption?" I turned slowly, feeling every pair of eyes in the room burning into my back. The pack elders sat at the high table, their faces twisted with confusion and rising anger.
My father, Alpha Theron, rose from his seat like a mountain of anger. "Nothing, Father," I said, my voice somehow steady. "Just... checking on the staff." A lie. The first of many I would tell tonight.
Lyra trembled beside me, and I fought every urge that screamed at me to pull her close, to mark her, to claim her as mine in front of everyone.
My wolf clawed at my chest, demanding I protect our mate. But I couldn't. I wouldn't. "Return to your duties," I told her coldly, each word like swallowing glass. "All of you." The omega girls scattered like scared rabbits. All except Lyra.
She stared at me with hurt so deep it nearly broke my resolve. "Move," I ordered, hating myself with every breath. She flinched as if I'd slapped her, then hurried away with the others.
The moment she faded from view, my knees almost gave out. "Erik!" My father's voice cracked like a whip. "Get over here. Now." I walked to the high table on shaky legs.
The pack elders watched me with suspicious eyes. Elder Morrison, the oldest among them, stroked his gray beard thoughtfully. "Sit," Father ordered.
I dropped into the chair beside him, my hands shaking. The mate bond hummed in my chest like a live wire, making it hard to think clearly.
"The ceremony will continue," Father stated to the crowd. "Clara will join us shortly." Clara. My chosen mate. The woman I was meant to marry in three weeks.
The woman who wasn't my true mate. "You look pale," Elder Morrison noticed, his sharp eyes studying my face. "Are you ill?" "I'm fine," I lied again.
But I wasn't great. Everything I'd known about my future had just burst into pieces. Clara was beautiful, smart, and from a wealthy family.
She would make a great Luna for political reasons. Our marriage would strengthen alliances and secure our pack's situation. Lyra was... nobody.
An omega without family ties or status. Mating with her would be seen as weakness. The other Alphas would laugh at me. Some might even challenge my right to lead. "Erik."
Father leaned close, his voice low and dangerous. "Whatever just happened with that omega, it ends now.
Do you understand me?" My wolf growled at the threat in his tone, but I nodded. "Yes, sir." "Good. Because tomorrow we announce your engagement to Clara properly.
The wedding will happen as planned." Each word hit me like a physical blow. Three weeks. I had three weeks before I'd be bound to the wrong woman forever. "Father, what if—" "No."
His eyes flashed gold, his Alpha power pushing down on me like a weight.
"There are no 'what ifs.' You will marry Clara. You will become Alpha. And you will forget whatever foolish idea just entered your head."
The great doors opened, and Clara walked in. She looked beautiful in her silver dress, her blonde hair perfectly styled. The crowd murmured agreement as she glided toward us with practiced grace.
But she wasn't Lyra. She didn't make my heart race or my wolf purr with satisfaction. She was everything I should want and nothing I actually needed.
Clara smiled at me as she approached, but something flashed in her blue eyes. Suspicion? Concern? Had she noticed my response to Lyra? "Sorry I'm late," she said sweetly, taking the place on my other side. "I had to powder my nose."
"No problem," I managed, trying to sound normal. She leaned closer, her perfume making my nose wrinkle.
After smelling Lyra's natural scent, everything else seemed fake and cloying. "You seem tense," Clara whispered.
"Is everything alright?" Before I could answer, the doors burst open again. This time it was Marcus, my Beta and best friend, looking panicked.
"Alpha Theron," he called out breathlessly. "We have a problem." Father's face darkened. "What kind of problem?" "Rogue wolves," Marcus reported. "Three of them, caught near the eastern border.
They were asking questions about the pack order." Murmurs of concern spread through the crowd. Rogue wolves meant danger.
They usually went alone, not in groups. And they definitely didn't ask questions about pack authority unless they were planning something. "Handle it," Father ordered.
"There's more," Marcus continued, looking at me meaningfully. "They were specifically asking about Erik. And about any... recent changes in the pack arrangement."
My blood ran cold. Recent changes? Did they somehow know about the mate bond? But that was impossible. It had only happened minutes ago. "What kind of changes?" Elder Morrison asked. Marcus paused.
"They wanted to know if Erik had found his mate yet." The quiet that followed was deafening. I felt Father's eyes boring into me, felt Clara's sharp intake of breath beside me. "Curious timing," Elder Morrison said slowly. "Wouldn't you agree, Erik?" My mouth went dry. This couldn't be an accident.
But how could anyone outside the pack know about Lyra when I'd only just found it myself? "Very curious," I agreed carefully. "Perhaps," Clara said in a voice like honey over steel, "we should question these rogues more carefully.
Find out exactly what they know and who sent them." Smart idea. Dangerous for me if they knew more than they should. "Agreed," Father said. "Erik, you'll handle the interrogation personally." "Of course." My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
As the crowd began to scatter, I caught sight of Lyra clearing tables near the back of the hall. She moved carefully, probably still in shock from our mate bond reveal.
Every part of my being wanted to go to her, to explain, to comfort her. Instead, I stood and offered Clara my arm like the perfect future Alpha I was supposed to be. "Shall we discuss our wedding plans?" she asked sweetly. "Actually," I said, thinking fast, "I need to handle this rogue problem first.
Tomorrow?" Her smile never faltered, but her grip on my arm tightened. "Of course. Duty first, always." As we walked toward the exit, I heard her say something under her breath.
It sounds like: "We'll see about that." A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the night air. The rogue dogs asking about my mate. Clara's strange actions.
Father's warning about the wedding. And somewhere in this tangled mess was Lyra, my true mate, who I'd just loudly rejected and humiliated. I had three weeks to figure out how to save everyone I cared about. Starting with the rogues who somehow knew my darkest secret before I'd even admitted it to myself.
Who had sent them? And what did they really want with information about my mate? As we stepped outside, Marcus emerged at my side, his face grim.
"Erik," he said quietly, "there's something else about those rogues you need to know."
"What?" "They weren't just asking about your mate." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "They were asking about Lyra specifically. By name."