Fresh Air

The heavy silver cutlery clinked against fine porcelain, a sharp sound that grated on Draven’s frayed nerves. He sat trapped in the suffocating atmosphere of the upper dining hall, staring down through the thick, reinforced glass floor. Below them, the expansive lower hall buzzed with noise. Twenty women sat clustered around the long feasting tables, their voices echoing off the stone walls. The Luna contenders. His sister’s grand, unsolicited project.

Draven took a slow sip of his dark crimson wine, letting the heavy burn slide down his throat. He hated every second of this. He swept his gaze over the women below. They were beautiful, sure. Daughters of Alphas, high-ranking elites from across the territories. Yet looking at them brought him zero excitement. His inner wolf, Boreas, lay dormant, silent and uninterested. Draven already knew his last shred of hope for these stupid trials was dead. Not a single one of those twenty women was his fated mate.

"Big deal," Katerina scoffed. She sat across from him, lazily stabbing a piece of crisp lettuce with her fork. "You know mates are overrated anyway. The whole fated bond thing is a romanticized myth for pups. Sometimes the Moon Goddess likes to play games. She gives Alphas like you an omega mate. Imagine an omega queen sitting on the Northern throne. What a joke."

Draven set his wine glass down on the table. The heavy crystal slammed against the wood, the sharp thud echoing in the quiet upper room. "My mate would never be a joke to me," he growled, his voice dropping an octave. "I don’t care what rank she is. I don’t care where she comes from. A mate is a mate. The Goddess gives them to us for a reason."

"Whatever." Katerina rolled her eyes and tossed her fork onto her plate. "They aren't given to everyone, Draven. And you are getting too old to wait around for a fairy tale. The North needs a Luna. I can't fill in forever. One day I'll get married. Maybe I'll leave the North. Someone needs to step up and stand beside you, and you refuse to pick anyone."

Draven clenched his jaw. He knew his annoying sibling had a point. He had dodged the duty of choosing a Luna for years, brushing off council meetings and dodging arranged setups. But the pressure was mounting.

"Marrying a random girl out of desperation is not a great solution," he muttered, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"Then how about you don’t marry a random person," Katerina snickered, leaning forward, a scheming glint in her eyes. "We have known Vivienne for years. You two are good friends. She is loved and adored by everyone in the pack, and she is the only daughter of one of your strongest Alphas. She’s perfect."

Draven rubbed his temples, feeling a headache forming. He knew Katerina would bring up Vivienne sooner or later. Vivienne was Katerina’s best friend. When they were kids, the two girls made some stupid pact to both marry Lycan kings. It got worse when Katerina actually met Alaric and fell for him, cementing her drive to get Draven and Vivienne together to complete their childhood dream.

Vivienne checked all the political boxes. She was strong, smart, and respected. If only he didn't view her as a sister. The mere thought of taking his childhood friend to bed, of stripping her down and forcing a mating mark onto her neck, made his stomach turn in disgust.

"Don’t even try this," Draven cut Katerina off, casting another flat glance at the women dining below. "I'm not marrying Vivienne."

Callahan, Draven’s Beta, leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "What you did was a bit cruel, Kat," Callahan stated plainly. "We all knew he would have to marry in the next few years, but you really forced his hand. Not to mention you cut his options. He had a whole world of possibilities, and now he has to choose between... wait, how many women are down there?"

"Nineteen," Draven sighed, finishing his mental headcount.

"Twenty," Katerina corrected him sharply.

Draven just shrugged. Maybe he missed one, or maybe he mistook one of the contenders for a castle servant. It didn't matter. "I still expect you to find a way to stop this charade," he grumbled, shooting a dark glare at his sister.

"And I will, if I have to," Katerina stood up, wiping her lips with a linen napkin and tossing it onto the table. "But first, you will give this a real try. You will meet these girls. You will talk to them. You will get to know them. And if, after everything, you still want to send them packing, I swear the final task will weed them out naturally. The council won't be able to fault us."

"Fine," Draven grunted. He reached up, his rough fingers scratching at the thick, scruffy beard covering his jaw.

"And get rid of that thing!" Katerina pointed an accusing finger at his face before she turned to the door. "You only get away with looking like a stray because no one has taken a picture of you yet."

"That’s the point," Draven smirked. "They don’t take photos of me looking like this."

"Tomorrow is the masquerade," Katerina snapped, her hand resting on the brass door handle. "At the end of the night, the masks come off. Everyone will be taking photos of you and the contenders. We need The North Star, Draven. Not some woodcutter from the neighboring village!"

She stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy wooden door shut before he could flip her the bird.

Callahan let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "At moments like this, I am really grateful I am an only child."

"Laugh a little louder and I will arrange your marriage to her," Draven snorted, running a hand through his dark hair.

"If you really want to punish her, you should marry her off to that self-proclaimed white bear king in the East," Callahan pointed out. He meant it as a joke, but the underlying politics were grim.

"If he wants power, that would only make things worse," Draven admitted, his tone sobering. "He would have a royal Lycan by his side. What would stop him from murdering me and claiming the throne in the name of their children?"

"Well, that’s where your own children come into play," Callahan stood up, walking over to the glass window to look down at the lower hall. He let out a low whistle, running a hand through his blonde hair. "At least your sister picked out some beauties. Having a sibling isn't such a bad deal."

"You can take mine anytime," Draven laughed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. But his smile faded fast. A memory surfaced, unbidden. "You know, the last time I saw Alaric... when he brought that new Luna of his. The way he looked at her..."

"Like she was a weakling?" Callahan sneered.

"No. Not at all. He loves her." Draven’s eyes locked onto the empty space above the tables. "She completes him. I want that. I would still prefer if one of these women down there was my actual mate."

"Look, D, I get the good-guy, big-heart vibe," Callahan laughed, shoving Draven’s shoulder in a friendly, bruising hit. "But I am not feeling sorry for you. You get to spend your time with twenty gorgeous women. Enjoy it. Anyway, I have to go check the security perimeter. Too many new faces in the castle. I need to tighten the patrols."

"Yeah, sure." Draven waved his Beta off.

The room fell silent. Draven thought about heading to his quarters to sleep off the headache, but a deep, restless growl echoed in his mind.

*Later,* Boreas, his inner wolf, pushed against his consciousness, his voice impatient and gruff. *Go to the garden. I need fresh air. I need a run. Or a hunt. A hunt sounds better.*

Draven knew better than to ignore his Lycan half. Fighting a bored, restless wolf only led to broken furniture and sour moods. He left the dining hall, his boots echoing down the winding stone corridors. He headed toward the west gate, his usual exit when he needed to strip down, shift, and tear through the treeline.

*Not there,* Boreas grunted, steering Draven’s instincts. *The pond.*

"What’s at the pond?" Draven muttered under his breath. Then, the freezing night wind cut through the open corridor, carrying a scent that made his boots stop dead on the stone. Bluebells. Rich, sweet, and intoxicating. "We haven't checked the pond in a while. Let's see how it looks."

He picked up his pace, a foolish grin spreading across his face. He knew exactly who that scent belonged to. The alluring little maid from the library. She was Princess Valeria’s servant, making her off-limits. He had no business seeking her out. But his feet carried him through the frosted grass anyway, drawn by an invisible string he refused to cut.

He moved like a shadow through the ancient trees, the sound of trickling water guiding him deeper into the secluded garden. He stopped behind the thick trunk of a massive oak tree. There she was.

She stood by the water’s edge, her back to him. The moonlight hit her just right, casting a silver glow over her delicate frame. She wore a thin, shimmering golden silk robe. Draven watched, his breath catching in his throat, as her hands moved to the sash at her waist. She untied the knot. The silk parted, slipping off her smooth shoulders. The pond was illuminated from the opposite side, turning her into a living shadow theater. Her enticing curves were on full display, the dip of her waist and the swell of her hips burned into his retinas.

Every instinct screamed at him to stay hidden and watch the show. But he knew it wasn't right. So, he stepped out from behind the oak tree, letting his heavy boots crunch against the frosted grass. He let his masculine, pine-and-musk scent roll over the clearing.

The girl flinched violently. She snatched the edges of her silk robe, yanking the golden fabric tight around her half-naked body. She spun around, her golden-brown wavy locks whipping in the freezing wind.

Draven couldn’t stop the smug smirk from spreading across his face. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. He was genuinely happy to see her again.

"What do you think you are doing?!" she scolded him, her eyes wide, glaring at him as if he had committed a crime.

"Me?" Draven pressed a hand to his chest, faking offense. He stepped closer, his eyes dropping to the delicate pink blush kissing her cheeks. The flush suited her. "I am just getting some fresh air. The real question is, what are you doing out here? Are you trying to flash the castle guards?"

The blush on her cheeks deepened into a fiery crimson. He loved the reaction. He loved that he could rile her up so easily.

"For a gardener who likes to hide in the library, you aren't that bright, are you?" She didn't back down. Instead, she took a bold step toward him, her chin tilted up in defiance.

Draven watched her, fascinated by the fiery, playful spark in her eyes. He didn't even care about the insult. He could feel the heat radiating from her small body, fighting the bitter Northern chill. He liked her heat. He liked it a lot. Too much.

"Enlighten me then," Draven murmured, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

"What’s there to explain?" She scoffed, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "I was about to shift and let my wolf run. What about you? These aren't your working hours. Were you just prowling the gardens trying to find someone to stalk?"

"Stalk?" Draven let out a dry, chesty laugh.

She poked her index finger hard against his chest. That was her mistake.

Draven’s reflexes took over. His large, calloused hand shot out, wrapping around her slender wrist. He pulled her forward, using her own momentum to spin her around. In one fluid motion, he pressed her back against the rough bark of the nearby oak tree. He crowded her, his broad chest trapping her against the wood.

"Little maid," Draven murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly rasp. He leaned in, his face inches from hers. He inhaled a deep, ragged breath, letting the delicious scent of bluebells flood his senses. "There is no need for me to stalk anyone. I already have more women than I can handle."

"That is not something to be proud of, you know," she burst out laughing, a genuine, ringing sound that cut through the tension.

She annoyed him. She challenged him. And hell, she excited him.

Valeria’s heart hammered against her ribs. She couldn't believe the insane situation she was in. She was pinned to a tree by the arrogant, massive gardener. His thick beard tickled the sensitive skin of her neck. His hot breath burned against her collarbone. It was a dangerous game, but for the first time in weeks, she actually felt alive. She enjoyed the thrill, the sheer lack of royal protocol.

She shoved her elbow into his ribs. He let her turn around, but the second her back hit the bark again, he stepped right back into her space. He pinned her in place. Forehead resting against forehead. Ragged breathing mixing in the cold air. His large, heavy hands settled firmly on her waist, his thumbs pressing into her hips.

Valeria stared into his dark eyes. A wild, reckless urge flared in her chest. She wanted to kiss this gardener. To hell with the trials. To hell with Kaelen. Her wolf, Bellona, scratched at the surface, eager to claim the physical heat radiating from the man standing over them.

She reached up, her fingers gripping the fabric of his dark t-shirt. She yanked him closer, ready to close the distance.

Then, it hit her.

A blinding, agonizing phantom pain ripped through her veins. It felt like battery acid flooding her bloodstream. Her chest caved in, stealing the oxygen from her lungs. It was the mate bond. The raw, sickening torture of betrayal. Kaelen. That bastard king was touching another woman. The bond transmitted the vile, filthy sensation straight into her nervous system.

*That son of a bitch!* Bellona roared in her mind, a feral, bloodthirsty sound. Her inner wolf wanted to rip the world apart to stop the sickening feeling of their mate giving himself to someone else.

"Are you okay?" The gardener’s voice broke through the ringing in her ears.

His large, rough palm brushed against her cheek. His skin was cool, a stark contrast to the burning fever radiating from the bond. Valeria leaned into his touch, desperate for relief. The coldness grounded her. It pulled her away from Kaelen’s filthy actions. She needed more. She needed a fire big enough to burn out the pain of her mate’s infidelity. The man standing in front of her was an inferno.

"Just kiss me," Valeria hissed, her voice trembling with raw need.

Draven didn’t give her a single second to take the words back.

He lost his mind. All reason evaporated. His mouth crashed down onto hers. His lips were surprisingly soft, but his kiss was brutal and demanding. He forced her lips part, his hot tongue thrusting deep into her mouth, tasting the sweet, intoxicating flavor of her. He demanded a submission she fiercely refused to give. Their tongues tangled in a messy, wet war, fighting for dominance in the freezing night air.

If anyone caught the Alpha of the North making out with a servant while twenty Luna contenders slept in the castle, the political scandal would ruin his kingdom.

Draven didn’t care. She tasted too damn good.

He grabbed her waist and hoisted her off the frosted ground. Valeria gasped against his mouth, her arms wrapping tight around his thick neck. Her bare legs clamped around his waist. Draven’s hands slid beneath the golden silk robe, his calloused palms gripping her bare ass. He squeezed the soft, naked flesh, holding her flush against his body.

Through the thick denim of his jeans, his rigid cock pressed directly against her slick core. Valeria let out a filthy moan, arching her back to grind her wet pussy against his hard erection. The friction sent a jolt of pure fire straight to Draven’s brain. He pushed her harder against the tree bark, his hips rolling, grinding his cock into her with hungry, desperate thrusts. He ripped his mouth away from hers, burying his face in her frail neck. He pushed her silky locks aside, his teeth scraping against her delicate skin, sucking hard enough to leave bruises.

The phantom pain from Kaelen vanished, drowned out by the sheer, overwhelming physical pleasure of the gardener's touch. Valeria didn't care about the consequences. Her life was already a ruined mess. What did one fling matter? She hated her mate. She hated the North. Let this stranger make her feel alive. Let him burn the betrayal out of her skin.

She arched into him again, a breathless whimper leaving her lips as his erection rubbed right against her clit through the denim. Draven’s hands left her ass, his fingers frantically searching for the ties of her robe, ready to strip her bare right there in the dirt.

Suddenly, a sharp, frantic knocking echoed in Valeria’s skull. Soren. Her beta was trying to breach her mind-link.

Valeria slammed her mental walls shut. She ignored him, dragging her nails down the gardener’s broad back.

But Soren battered against the link, his panic leaking through the bond. The relentless intrusion made Valeria groan in pure frustration. The sound only fueled Draven’s fire; he took it as encouragement, his mouth devouring her collarbone.

Valeria’s chest heaved. She wanted him. She wanted his thick, hard body over hers so badly her bones ached. But the reality of Soren’s panic began to cut through the haze of lust. Her kingdom. Her people. Was she really going to risk the safety of everyone relying on her just to fuck a gardener against a tree?

The disturbance broke the spell. Her senses returned, chilling her blood.

"Stop," Valeria muttered, her hands dropping to his chest to push him back.

To her absolute shock, the massive Lycan froze. He didn't argue. He didn't push. He stopped grinding against her, his chest heaving as he pulled his face back. He looked at her, his dark eyes glazed with lust, questioning her sudden halt.

*What is it, Soren?* Valeria snapped, tearing the mind-link open.

*Where the hell are you?!* Soren’s voice barked in her head. *They announced a curfew. All contenders have to be in their rooms by nine o'clock. You are late, and the guards are doing a sweep! Find a way back to the tower immediately! I will try to hold them off or create a diversion.*

*Got it,* Valeria replied, slamming the link shut. She let out a shaky sigh.

Draven watched her face fall. He looked like he wanted to drag her back in, but he knew the moment was dead.

"I need to go," Valeria said, forcing a polite, tight smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"You must be kidding," Draven grunted, his hot breath hitting her neck. He felt her unwrap her bare legs from his waist. Every cell in his body screamed in protest as she slid down his front, the friction of her descent pure torture on his raging erection. He didn't want this to end. He wanted to lay her in the grass and finish what they started. But he saw the genuine panic in her eyes. He placed her boots back on the ground, taking a step back to give her space.

"I need to find a way back to our tower," she explained rapidly, pulling the edges of her silk robe tight to cover her exposed skin. "They are checking if people are in their rooms, and I am stuck out here."

Draven swallowed his intense, clawing frustration. He took a deep breath, forcing his Lycan to stand down. "Let's go," he said, reaching out to grab her small hand. He pulled her away from the pond, toward the looming stone walls of the castle. "There is a back entrance for the servants. I'll show you."

"Great," she mumbled, staring at the ground.

The space between them turned freezing and awkward. The electric heat was gone, replaced by a suffocating silence. Draven tightened his grip on her hand. Maybe this sudden interruption was for the best. What just happened against that tree was pure madness. He couldn't act like a feral beast. Not now, with his castle full of spies and contenders. Not with this mysterious maid.

***

**Five Minutes Prior**

Kaelen stood in the center of the dark, lavish bedroom in the Western palace. His jaw was set in a tight, cruel line. He knew exactly how the mate bond worked. There was only one way to remind his runaway mate that he existed, only one way to punish her for ignoring him.

He didn't hesitate. When his Beta brought in a dark-haired she-wolf who vaguely resembled Valeria, Kaelen accepted the offering. He didn't care about the woman standing before him. He didn't plan on making this romantic, and he certainly didn't plan on making it last long. He needed a physical release, and he needed to send a vile, undeniable message straight through the bond to Valeria's mind.

He grabbed the she-wolf by the waist and shoved her onto the large mattress. She fell back against the sheets, letting out a soft, submissive gasp. She scrambled to position herself, spreading her legs in compliance. Kaelen unbuckled his heavy leather belt. He unzipped his pants, freeing his hard cock. He grabbed her hips, pulling her to the edge of the bed. He didn't waste time on foreplay. He aligned his thick erection with her wet pussy, his muscles tensing as he prepared to sink into her.

He drove his hips forward.

Before he could even breach her, a blinding, piercing agony exploded inside his chest.

It wasn't a warning. It was a massacre. The pain tore through his nervous system, shredding his cells like broken glass. It was the mate bond screaming in reverse. Kaelen gasped, the air knocked out of his lungs.

He felt the ghostly sensation of a massive pair of hands gripping a waist. He felt the phantom pressure of another man's hard cock grinding hungrily against his mate. The overwhelming heat, the lust, the wet friction. Valeria was touching someone else. She was wrapping her legs around another man. She was enjoying it.

"Get off!" Kaelen roared. He grabbed the terrified she-wolf by the shoulders and violently threw her off the mattress. She hit the floor with a scream, scrambling into the corner of the room.

Kaelen collapsed, dropping to all fours on the wooden floorboards. The agony in his chest morphed into sheer, unadulterated, feral rage. The bones in his hands cracked and lengthened. Thick, razor-sharp claws burst from his fingertips. He gouged the floorboards, tearing deep, jagged splinters from the wood.

His muscles bulged, his spine popping as his wolf fought to rip its way out of his human skin. His Lycan wanted to tear through the walls, to sprint across the continent and slaughter whoever dared to lay a hand on what belonged to him.

"Valeria!" Kaelen snarled, his voice a monstrous, dual-toned roar that shook the glass windows.

Saliva dripped from his teeth. It took every ounce of physical strength he possessed to fight back the feral transformation. He forced his claws back, panting heavily, sweat dripping from his face onto the ruined floor. He didn't know when her make-out session ended, and he didn't care how long it lasted.

He only knew one thing for absolute certain.

He needed to track down his runaway mate. Fast. Before he ripped the world apart trying to find her.