Marry A Busty Stranger

Vander’s POV

I never wanted to set foot in Rimeveil territory. Alaska’s winter was nothing like the warm, sunlit beaches of Tempestroar; it was a hollow, gray wasteland where the biting cold seeped directly into your bones. But I didn't plunge into the freezing lake at the edge of the woods tonight to escape the weather. I did it to escape the suffocating reality of my own pack.

The icy water hit me like a barrage of daggers, snapping the breath from my lungs. I dove deeper into the black depths, letting the freezing current numb my skin and, hopefully, my simmering anger.

Back at the main hall, Alpha Varkas was hosting a dry, pompous banquet to celebrate the end of their hunting festival. It was supposed to be a night of roasted meats, expensive alcohol, and fake political smiles. I skipped it. I couldn't stomach standing there, playing the role of the quiet, obedient nephew while my Uncle Draxon paraded around as the new Alpha of Tempestroar.

It had only been a few months since we buried my father. He was the true Alpha, a man of incredible strength and unyielding honor. Yet, before the earth had even settled over his grave, Draxon had already claimed his title. The pack assembly had backed him, citing the need for strength and stability after the recent Rogue attacks. But the most bitter pill to swallow was that my own mother had supported Draxon’s rise to power.

"Put the pack's stability first, Vander," she had begged me before we left for this trip, her eyes pleading. "It’s time to let go of the past."

By 'the past,' she meant my father's legacy. She wanted peace and order, having clearly fallen for her late husband’s power-hungry brother. She demanded I stand aside, betray my birthright, and smile through the humiliation.

I broke the surface of the lake, gasping for air as the frosty night breeze slashed at my face. I slicked my wet hair back, feeling my muscles tense before my werewolf healing kicked in to regulate my body heat.

"If you can survive this extreme cold, you can survive anything," my father used to tell me during our old training sessions, his loud, free laughter echoing across the waves.

I clung to that memory. I had to survive this.

As I waded toward the snowy shoreline, the crisp crunch of boots on snow caught my attention. My instincts instantly flared. I stopped, peering through the dark.

There, standing near the bank, was a girl. She was wearing a stunning, sky-blue dress that looked entirely out of place in the desolate woods. Her striking silver hair shimmered under the moonlight, looking like spun frost. But she wasn't admiring the scenery. She was crying bitterly, her small shoulders shaking with quiet, heartbreaking sobs.

I frowned, my curiosity immediately piqued. A girl looking like that belonged in the center of the banquet hall, not weeping alone by a frozen lake.

I swam a little closer. "Miss," I called out, my voice cutting through the silent night. "I hate to interrupt, but I think you’re sitting on my clothes."

She gasped, violently jerking back. Her tear-streaked face snapped toward me, her wide eyes instantly filling with deep suspicion and shock. She was fast, her body tensing like a cornered deer.

I didn't bother hiding myself. I stepped out of the freezing water, completely bare. I let the cold air hit my wet skin, standing tall and relaxed, making absolutely no effort to cover my genitals or my thick thighs. I wasn't ashamed of my body, nor was I bothered by the ice.

She took a massive step back, her cheeks flushing a brilliant scarlet. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded, quickly wiping her tears away.

I couldn't help but chuckle at her flustered panic. It was an amusing break from my dark thoughts. "Easy," I said smoothly, stepping closer so the snow crunched beneath my bare feet. "I’m with the Tempestroar Pack. Here with Alpha Draxon."

She didn't relax. Instead, she blindly grabbed the dark pile of clothes she had been standing near and thrust them toward my chest, instantly spinning around to give me privacy.

"Here," she muttered sharply.

"Thanks," I replied, pulling my heavy shirt over my head and dragging my dark trousers up my legs.

She stayed faced away from me. "Why aren’t you at the banquet?" she asked, her voice tight. "And why are you swimming? The water’s freezing."

"I could ask you the exact same thing," I countered, buckling my belt. "Why is a beautiful girl in a stunning sky-blue dress crying all alone by a lake?"

"That’s none of your business," she snapped fiercely.

I paused, intrigued by the fire hiding beneath her sorrow. After a quiet, tense moment, she spoke again, her voice smaller this time, laced with a sudden insecurity. "Does your pack really have a lot of strong, beautiful female warriors?"

The question caught me completely off guard. "We have plenty," I answered slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," she brushed it off far too quickly, wrapping her arms tightly around her shivering shoulders.

I could hear the deep, aching pain she was desperately trying to hide. I didn't know what had driven her out into the freezing night, but I recognized the heavy burden of feeling inadequate. I stepped closer to her back, feeling a sudden urge to comfort this beautiful stranger.

"You’re beautiful too, you know," I told her, my voice dropping lower in the quiet air. "You shouldn't waste your time comparing yourself to anyone else."

She turned slightly, opening her mouth as if she wanted to say something back. The air between us suddenly felt charged, heavy with unspoken words.

But before she could speak, the frantic crunching of snow shattered the quiet atmosphere.

"Elara!"

A tall, dark-haired man jogged rapidly out of the tree line, breathing heavily. He locked eyes with me, his gaze narrowing into a dangerous glare.

"Who is this?" he demanded, stepping defensively toward her.

"He's just... he's with the Tempestroar Pack," she stammered, taking a quick step away from me.

The man didn't care. He grabbed her hand firmly. "You ran off. Mom and Dad are completely frantic looking for you. Come back to the house with me right now."

She didn't fight him. She let him pull her away, retreating back down the snowy path. Just like that, she vanished into the dark shadows of the trees, leaving me standing alone by the edge of the ice.

I exhaled a long breath and bent down to grab my boots. As I did, my fingers brushed against something hard in the snow.

I picked it up. It was a broken silver hairpin, adorned with a delicate green gemstone. It must have snapped when she jumped back, or perhaps I had stepped on it in the dark. I rolled the cold metal between my fingers for a second, my mind flashing back to her tearful silver eyes.

Without overthinking it, I slipped the broken hairpin deep into my coat pocket. If I ever saw Elara again, I would return it to her.

Back at the guesthouse Alpha Varkas had provided for our delegation, the heavy scent of pine and burning firewood hit my nose. I had barely taken off my damp coat and reached for a towel when my bedroom door violently swung open.

Uncle Draxon burst inside without knocking.

The overpowering stench of heavy alcohol rolled off him in waves, mixing terribly with his smug, triumphant aura. His chest was puffed out, his face flushed with liquor and unearned arrogance.

"I've got incredible news!" Draxon announced loudly, marching into the center of my room like he owned the place.

I didn't smile. I kept my face entirely neutral, methodically drying my damp hair with the towel. "What is it?"

He grinned broadly, dropping heavily into the armchair across from my bed. "You’ve been single for far too long, Vander. It's time we fix that. I’ve found a perfect match for you. She's beautiful, incredibly strong, and she comes directly from Rimeveil's elite."

I stopped drying my hair, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "You’re playing matchmaker now?"

"She’s absolutely perfect," Draxon insisted, pulling his expensive smartphone from his pocket and thrusting the bright screen toward my face. "Her name is Vespera. She is Rimeveil’s top female warrior."

I glanced down at the screen. The woman staring back at the camera was undeniably attractive, wearing sharp red lipstick and a skin-tight combat bodysuit that left nothing to the imagination. But her eyes were cold, burning with a fierce, calculating ambition that I instantly despised. She looked like a woman who only cared about power and status.

"No," I said flatly, tossing my towel onto the bed. "I'm not interested."

Draxon's grin faltered, his thick brows drawing together. "Look closer, Vander—"

"I said no," I interrupted, my tone hardening. "Unless she is my fated mate, do not waste your time trying to set me up with her."

Draxon’s smug expression completely vanished, replaced by a dark, authoritarian scowl. "Don’t be stupid, boy. This is far bigger than your personal feelings. This is a vital political alliance. Rimeveil needs our military support to secure their borders, and Tempestroar needs their resources. Do you think the Rogue packs are just going to lay down and die? We need this marriage to cement our treaty."

I turned my back on him and walked slowly over to the frost-covered window. Outside, the snow had started falling again, thick and relentless, burying the world in white silence.

"I already gave you my father's Alpha seat," I said coldly, keeping my gaze fixed on the falling snow. "I stepped aside. I kept my mouth shut to keep the pack from tearing itself apart. But I will never give you my marriage, too."

Draxon scoffed, a nasty, mocking sound that grated against my eardrums. "You think you still have a choice in this matter? You can’t lead Tempestroar from the shadows forever, playing the brooding prince. You are a tool for this pack now. This alliance is the best offer you are ever going to get."

My hands curled into tight fists at my sides, my knuckles popping. My wolf growled low in the back of my mind, demanding I turn around and rip the usurper's throat out. But I forced the beast down.

"I am not marrying a stranger just to please you," I stated, my voice dangerously low. "Now get out of my room. I need to rest."

Draxon stared at the back of my head, his breathing heavy with drunken anger. "You are making a massive mistake," he threatened, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "I’ll take this matter directly to your mother. She’ll understand exactly how important this is, and she will make you see reason."

He didn't wait for my response. He turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the heavy oak door shut behind him with enough force to rattle the windowpanes.

The sudden silence in the room was deafening.

I stood alone by the glass, resting my forehead against the freezing pane as I watched the snow continue to fall. A violent storm of emotions raged inside my chest. The crushing grief of losing my father, the misplaced loyalty to a mother who had betrayed his memory, and the burning, bitter resentment toward the man trying to control my life all fought for dominance.

I closed my eyes, letting out a long, exhausted breath.

This was not the life I wanted to live. I was suffocating under the weight of Draxon's ambition and my mother's cowardice. I had been waiting, hoping that maybe things would settle, maybe the pack would realize their mistake. But looking out into the cold Alaskan night, a rebellious spark flared to life within me.

Perhaps it was time to stop waiting for things to change. If they wanted a political pawn, they would have to look elsewhere.

My best option wasn't to fight Draxon for a throne he had already tainted. My best option was to leave the Tempestroar Pack entirely.