Shattered Illusions

POV: Fallon

My jaw drops. I stand frozen on the stairs, staring down at the massive Lycan King. *Try and reject me.* The challenge hangs in the air between us, heavy and suffocating.

I draw in a deep breath. I force my throat to open. The formal words of rejection sit right on the tip of my tongue, ready to sever this cursed bond once and for all. "I..." I start.

Nothing else comes out.

I try again, pushing the air from my lungs. "I, Fa... Fal..."

My vocal cords lock up. My jaw snaps shut. A strange, physical block slams down over my mind, refusing to let the syllables form. The Moon Goddess designed this curse over two decades ago. When wolves and Lycans started rejecting their fated mates too often, she stepped in. She made it biologically impossible to say the words.

Vander tilts his head. A smug, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Can't do it, can you?"

I swallow hard, my chest heaving. The silence stretches, loud and humiliating.

"Trust me, Fallon. I tried," he says. His voice drops, losing some of its hard edge. "For the first year of you being on the run. I tried over and over to sever the bond myself, because you were just a child. But it didn't work. The Goddess wants this. I know you hate it. I feel that hatred in your chest right now. You make it clear you want nothing to do with me. But I swear to you, I will never hurt you." He pauses, a dark glint catching in his blue eyes. "Not unless you want me to."

Bile rises in my throat. "Is that why you chased us?" I grip the banister until my knuckles turn white. "Because you wanted to play house? You thought you could force us to live together like some happy twisted family?"

"No."

"So you didn't even want me?"

Vander sighs, dragging a hand through his dark hair. "You were a kid. The only thing I wanted was to protect you."

"Protect me?" My stomach churns. The sheer disgust makes my skin crawl. "What, were you planning to keep me tucked away as some groomed child bride?"

"No," he snaps, his tone hardening. "I tried to explain that to your father. All I wanted was to keep you safe and hidden until you were of age."

"Why?" I demand, my voice echoing off the stone walls. "Why did I need your protection? I was safe with my dad. I was safe with my mum."

Footsteps echo near the front foyer. A couple of pack members walk past, their eyes darting toward us before they quickly look away. Vander shifts his stance, shutting down the conversation.

"It doesn't matter right now," he states flatly. "We will discuss this later. You need to eat."

"I don't care about food! Why did you hate my dad so much?"

His cobalt eyes flash. The Lycan aura rolls off him in dark waves. "Later."

"I want the truth now!"

"Later, Fallon. Move to the dining room."

"I fucking hate you!" I spin around and stomp up the stairs. Eat? I would rather choke. I will lock myself in that bedroom. I will make him watch me starve to death.

"FALLON!"

The word booms through the hallway. It hits me like a physical blow. The King's command wraps around my spine, forcing my muscles to halt. My body goes rigid. Every instinct screams at me to turn around and submit to the order.

I fight the urge, twisting my neck to glare down at him. "WHAT?!"

"Come down here and eat. I know you are running on empty. You will not starve yourself in my territory."

"Why do you even care?" I spit back. "You ruined my life. You might as well finish the job and kill me."

"I told you, I am not going to hurt you."

Vander does not wait for me to argue. He takes the stairs two at a time. Before I can even register his movement, his arms band around my waist. He lifts me right off my feet. He throws me over his broad shoulder, his large hand clamping down hard on the back of my thighs to secure my struggling form.

The second his skin meets mine, electric sparks ignite. The mate bond flares to life, sending hot trails of fire racing through my nerve endings. I hate the sensation. I hate how my body reacts to his touch.

I kick my legs. I scream, thrashing my weight around. I pound my fists into his broad back. He ignores every strike. He carries me down the hall as if I weigh nothing more than a feather.

He marches into the dining room and dumps me straight into a heavy wooden chair.

I scramble to sit up, breathless and furious. Vander pulls out the chair across from me and sits down.

"You will eat, and you will be happy," he declares, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever it takes."

Servants file into the room. They set down large silver platters and ceramic plates filled with hot food. Steaming meats, roasted vegetables, and fresh bread cover the long table. My stomach gives a pathetic, hollow rumble, but the knot in my throat makes it impossible to swallow.

I stare straight ahead. My gaze drops to the plate placed directly in front of me.

It holds two pieces of buttered corn on the cob.

My breath hitches. The scent of melting butter and sweet corn hits my nose. It was my mother's favorite treat. Whenever we had a safe night on the run, she would manage to find some. We would sit by a small fire, eating corn, pretending the world was not hunting us.

A fresh wave of agony crashes into my chest. The crushing reality settles deep into my bones. I am never going to see her again. She is gone.

My vision blurs. Hot tears spill over my eyelashes and track down my cheeks.

"Talk to me," Vander says. His deep voice wraps around the room, smooth and demanding.

"Like you would give a shit!"

I shoot up out of the chair. My hand closes around the edge of the heavy ceramic plate. Without a second thought, I hurl it straight at the floor.

The china shatters. Shards of ceramic and chunks of buttery corn explode across the hardwood. The crash echoes in my ears, but it is not enough. The grief inside me twists into a blind rage. My inner wolf claws at my chest, begging to be let out, begging to tear this entire place apart.

"Fallon, stop." Vander's voice filters into my mind through the mate link.

I grab another plate from the center of the table. I lock eyes with him, pull my arm back, and launch the dish right at his head.

He tilts his neck just enough. The plate sails past his ear and smashes against the stone wall behind him. Gravy and meat slide down the expensive wallpaper.

I expect him to charge at me. I expect him to use his King's command to force me into my chair. Instead, he just sits there. He watches me.

I grab a platter of roasted potatoes and hurl it across the room. I grab bowls, glasses, silverware. I throw everything I can get my hands on. Glass shatters. Metal clatters. Food splatters over the chairs, the floor, the walls.

Tears stream down my face, blinding me as my chest heaves with ragged sobs. I trash the grand dining room. I destroy his beautiful things, pouring all my grief and anger into the wreckage. Vander does not utter a single word. He lets me break it all.

"What the fuck is going on?"

A man's voice cuts through my heavy breathing.

I freeze, a half-empty gravy boat clutched in my shaking hand. I turn toward the doorway. A man with short wavy blonde hair stands there. A woman with dark hair clings to his arm. They both stare at the disaster zone.

The man turns his attention from the ruined floor to Vander. "Sorry, Alpha. We did not realize you were in here."

The woman wrinkles her nose, stepping back to avoid a pile of mashed potatoes. "Oh my god. Look at this mess, Ronan. She is batshit crazy."

A terrifying blur of motion follows her words.

Vander lunges out of his chair. He crosses the room in a fraction of a second. Before the woman can even blink, Vander has her pinned to the floor. His massive hand clamps around her throat. A lethal growl vibrates from his chest. His razor-sharp canines extend, hovering mere inches from her exposed jugular.

"Alpha Vander, she didn't mean it!" the blonde man, Ronan, shouts, taking a cautious step back. "Sable, apologize. Now!"

"But..." Sable gasps, her eyes wide with sheer terror. Her perfectly styled black hair lies ruined in a puddle of spilled wine.

"Apologize!" Ronan snaps again.

Instead of trying to pull Vander off his wife, Ronan shifts his stance. He locks his dark eyes on me. A slow, inappropriate smirk spreads across his face, and he winks.

My stomach does a sick flip. I take a step back, my boots crunching on broken china.

Vander's head snaps toward the blonde Alpha. His growl deepens, vibrating with pure menace. "Ronan, I suggest you turn your attention to your own wife, and not my mate."

Ronan drops the smirk and looks away, his hands raised in surrender.

Under the threat of the Lycan King's teeth, Sable stammers out a frantic apology. Vander releases his grip. He pushes himself off the floor, leaving her trembling in the mess.

"Alpha Ronan, this is my mate, Fallon," Vander says, brushing a spot of dirt from his shirt.

"Ah. Fallon. Nice to meet you." Ronan extends a hand toward me.

Vander snarls. The sound promises death. Ronan quickly drops his hand and steps over to help his wife up.

I stand frozen in the middle of the wreckage. Sticky brown gravy runs down my leg. Mashed food stains my dirty t-shirt. The anger has burned out, leaving behind a hollow, heavy exhaustion. The adrenaline crashes, and I just feel humiliated. I lost control. I have never acted like this in my life.

Vander steps over the broken plates and stops in front of me. He runs his intense gaze up and down my messy form. "Feel better?"

I give a stiff nod. My throat is too tight to speak.

He holds out his large hand.

I look at Ronan, who is still watching me from the corner of his eye. The guy gives me the creeps. I look back at Vander. Staying in this room with Ronan and his furious wife is not an option.

I reach out and place my palm against Vander's.

The sparks rush over my skin. Vander's lips twitch into a small smile. He tightens his grip, lacing his fingers through mine.

As he leads me toward the doorway, I glance back at the ruined dining room. Sable glares at me, her face pale and furious.

"I will replace the china," I mutter, keeping my head down as we walk into the hall.

"You will do no such thing," Vander dismisses instantly.

"I broke it," I argue. "No one else did. I should pay for it." I might hate him, but I know when I am at fault.

Vander chuckles, leading me up the grand staircase. His blue eyes flash with dark amusement. "You are their future Queen. Fuck them. Sable needs to learn her place anyway."

The words hit me like a splash of cold water. *Queen.* No fucking chance. I am a captive. A prisoner of a mate bond I never asked for.

We reach the bedroom. Vander pushes the heavy wooden door open and guides me inside. He shuts the door behind us and slides the metal lock into place with a loud click.

He stands with his back to me for a long moment, staring at the solid wood. The air in the room shifts, growing thick and tense.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my heart kicking up a nervous rhythm. A sudden instinct tells me I should have stayed downstairs with creepy Ronan.

Vander turns around. The hard edges of his face soften into something dangerously gentle. "I want a proper look at my mate."

He closes the distance between us. Before I can back away, his large hands reach up. He cups my face, his thumbs brushing over my tear-stained cheeks.

The mate sparks hit me hard. The heat rushes through my blood, making my head spin. For a split second, my wolf leans into the touch, craving the comfort of our fated partner.

I snap out of the trance.

I rip myself out of his grasp. I stumble backward, retreating to the far side of the massive bed. I cross my arms, aggressively pulling the hem of my filthy t-shirt down over my thighs to create some kind of barrier between us.

Vander drops his hands. Genuine confusion knits his brow. "Why do you fight it so much?"

I glare at him, my breathing ragged. "Because you are a fucking psychopath!"