Sweet Distraction

Kaelen’s P.O.V.

She was here in my fortress. She was safe, untouched by the outside world. Finding her was no longer a problem I had to solve.

Yet, she consumed my every thought. I stood by the massive stone hearth in my private study. The fire roared against the dark brick. I stared into the flames, but all I could see was her pale face. The vivid memory of her split, bleeding lip and the dark purple bruises wrapping around her delicate forearm flashed behind my eyes. The brutal image filled my chest with a murderous rage. My inner beast paced violently inside the walls of my mind. It snarled against the rigid barriers of my control. It ignited a feral urge in my blood to march straight back to that pathetic territory and butcher whichever wolf had dared lay hands on her. I wanted to rip their throats out. I wanted to snap their bones and bathe in their blood for harming what belonged to me.

But that heavy sympathy evaporated the second she asked about other women. I turned away from the fire. My jaw locked tight. She had looked at me and asked the question as if I maintained a harem of concubines for my personal amusement. The insult burned under my skin. Did she think my honor was that cheap? Did she think I operated like the corrupt alphas of lesser packs, taking a new female to my bed every single night? Or perhaps she was fishing. Perhaps she wanted to know if I planned to sleep with other females so she could justify taking other men to her bed in return.

Both thoughts fueled my deep-seated resentment toward the mate bond. It was the exact reason I fought the idea of finding a soulmate for years. A fated mate was a liability. A fated mate possessed the terrifying power to destroy a ruler's will to live. It was a brutal truth proven by my own bloodline. I spent my youth watching my father rule as a strong, unmatched Lycan King. He was fierce. He was fair in his judgments. But the sudden loss of his mate broke his mind. I remembered the exact day the light left his eyes. He stopped eating. He stopped leading his armies. He stood on the castle balcony overlooking the sea, devoid of all emotion, and let gravity claim him. He took his own life, abandoning his kingdom and his only son over the loss of one woman. I stood over his grave and swore I would never allow myself to become that weak.

Had it not been for Beatrix's dark vision, I would have happily remained alone for the rest of my reign. I could have run my kingdom with a cold, tactical mind. If the high council demanded an heir, I could have arranged a simple transaction. There was no need to mark a woman and tie her soul to mine for eternity. She could have provided me with a strong child and then stayed out of my way. But Beatrix had seen a future soaked in blood and fire. She insisted I needed my true mate to ground my power and survive the coming war.

I paced the heavy antique rugs of my study. My boots thumped rhythmically against the dense floorboards. The mere thought of Jessamine walking around up in our room drove my inner beast wild with joy. That joy made me furious. The beast wanted to claim her. I despised the thought of surrendering my control to a fragile human.

I stopped walking. Raw frustration boiled over. I kicked a heavy wooden chair across the floor. It flew through the air and crashed into the stone wall with a loud bang, tipping onto its side.

Beatrix raised her hand from the shadowy corner of the room. With a lazy flick of her wrist, bright silver magic wrapped around the fallen chair. It righted itself and slid back to its proper place by the expansive timber desk. She offered a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. "If you are that frustrated, you have a new mate upstairs. Go bed her. Release some of that tension before you destroy your own castle."

"Mind your own business, Trix." I snarled.

I turned my back on the witch. My focus needed to remain on the maps spread across the desk. I leaned my weight onto my palms, glaring down at the heavy parchment. The northern borders were marked with fresh red ink. Urgent reports of vampire attacks poured into the capital by the hour. It was a tactical nightmare. Vampires were supposed to be extinct. They were vile creatures believed wiped out since the Great War over a century ago. My ancestors hunted them through the snow and mud. They purged the bloodsuckers from the earth, or so we thought. For decades after our victory, elite hunting parties roamed the continent to ensure the threat was eliminated.

Now, they were back. The brutal attacks escalated along our mountain borders. Scouting units went missing in the dead of night, leaving behind nothing but drained corpses. What bothered me most was the secrecy. Someone used cloaking magic to conceal their nests. The magical veil protecting them was thick and deliberate, woven with dark runes that absorbed light and deflected our tracking spells. Even Beatrix could not pinpoint their exact location. I needed to find out who shielded them and how many numbers they possessed in their ranks. My people came first. I refused to let my kingdom fall because I let a female distract my senses.

Suddenly, a rich aroma drifted down the stone corridor.

Jessamine.

The smell hit my senses like a physical strike. She smelled like a warm dessert. It was a perfect blend of vanilla and spun sugar. It was just sweet enough to make a man want to pull her into the dark and devour her taste. The intoxicating scent shattered my concentration. The tactical lines on the map blurred. My inner beast clawed forward. It wanted to hunt. It wanted to drag her into the room and claim her on the floor. I gripped the edges of the desk. The timber groaned and splintered under my hands.

Beatrix jumped from her seat before I could brace myself to handle the intrusion. She reached the heavy double doors and threw them open.

Jessamine stood in the hallway. The delicate sound of her knuckles raised to knock died in the air.

Beatrix grabbed her arm and shoved Jessamine into the room.

My mate stumbled onto the thick carpet. It was pure torture to see her standing there. Her hair was damp from my shower. The wet, dark strands clung to her neck and draped over her shoulders. She wore fresh clothes provided by my staff. The clean linen fabric traced the curves of her waist. Everything about her existence in this room was designed to test my sanity. Knowing she had been in my private bathroom, stripped bare under my running water to wash another pack's grime off her skin, sent a spike of searing heat straight to my groin. I locked my jaw. I swallowed hard. I forced my hazel eyes back down to the map.

Beatrix stepped right up behind her and gripped her shoulder. "I need your name, dear."

The witch sounded mocking. Jessamine looked absolutely terrified. She swallowed hard, keeping her wide green eyes locked on my face.

"Jessamine Farraday."

Her soft whisper felt like a feather trailing down my spine. It sparked against my nerve endings. The sound of her name from her own lips forced me to dig my fingers hard into the wood until my knuckles turned white. My beast thrashed. It wanted her more than it wanted air to breathe.

"Jessamine, meet Kaelen Vander. Your mate." Beatrix announced with loud, echoing laughter that bounced off the towering bookshelves.

I clamped my hands harder onto the edges of the desk. I let out a dark growl of pure annoyance. It ruffled the heavy silence of the room, vibrating against the stone walls. I refused to look up. I needed to maintain a wall of ice between us to survive her presence.

Jessamine took a hesitant step closer. The floorboards creaked softly under her feet.

"I wasn't sure if I was allowed to leave the room."

Her fragile voice held the deep caution of a woman who spent her entire life walking on eggshells. She actually thought I was going to keep her locked away like property. She believed I was no better than the monsters in her previous pack.

My restraint cracked down the middle. I pushed off the desk and stood up straight to glare down at her delicate frame. She brought her problems into my private space. Of all the places in this massive castle she could have explored to find comfort, she walked straight into my office to bother me.

"You are my mate, not my prisoner."

I barked the fierce declaration to show her how foolish her statement was. I meant to sound dismissive and cold. But the moment the words left my lips, a deep, possessive warmth exploded in my chest. It rushed through my veins like liquid fire. It rooted deep into my soul. Claiming her out loud bound my spirit to hers. The warmth settled heavily into my bones, bringing a strange sense of peace to my chaotic mind.

I needed to look away. But I could not break eye contact. The magnetic pull of her stare trapped me in place.

Jessamine tilted her head. Her wide green eyes bore into mine. The fear across her pale face shifted into deep confusion.

"I don't understand why you chose me."

I stared at her. My chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

She did not understand. She thought I picked her out of a lineup. She thought this was a business arrangement made between a wealthy king and an abusive pack.

Then the bitter truth became clear. Jessamine was an unshifted human. Her wolf had never presented itself to heal her wounds or guide her instincts. Because of her human state, she had no inner connection to the supernatural tether binding us together. She could not feel the thrumming energy of our fated bond. Without a wolf to share the burden of her emotions, her human mind could not comprehend the ancient magic that tied our souls. The violent, consuming need tearing through my mind was entirely one-sided. To her, I was just a frightening Lycan King who bought her freedom.

A profound realization washed over me. This separation was the shield I needed.

If she did not know the Moon Goddess fated us to be together, she would not expect a soulmate's devotion. She would not demand my heart. Keeping our true mate status a secret was the perfect way to maintain the emotional distance I needed to survive. I would provide for her. When the battle came, I would protect her on the front lines. The kingdom would eventually expect me to mark her and make her Queen. The lords would expect us to produce heirs to secure the bloodline. All of that could wait until the vampire threat was eliminated.

I would let her believe I simply chose her for convenience. Let her believe this was a calculated arrangement. I would lock my heart away in a fortress of ice. It was the only way I could keep from ending up in an early grave right next to my father.