Unexpected Sanctuary
A blaring car horn outside jolts me awake, and a sharp ache immediately shoots up my spine. Lying stiff in the exact same position all night clearly took its toll. Bright morning sunlight hits my face, forcing me to squeeze my eyelids shut and burrow deeper beneath the thick, warm blankets.
Heavy blankets. Sunlight streaming through glass panes. Last night I was shivering inside a canvas tent on the hard dirt, nowhere near a plush mattress.
Then the memories come crashing back. The roaring bonfire, Delta Garrett’s agonizing scream, Kaelen pinning me down to force himself on me, the blade, the hot spray of blood, that massive black wolf emerging from the dark, and then complete blackness.
I bolt upright and scan my surroundings. A tight lump blocks my throat the second the familiar walls register. Having scrubbed these floors my entire life, I know every corner by heart, though a completely foreign scent hangs in the air today.
This is the master suite belonging to my father, Alpha Garris, and Luna Noreen. Why would they put me in here instead of locking me down in the cells?
Did Kaelen die from that stab wound? Is that the reason they dragged me back to the main house?
Hot tears sting my eyes as sheer terror sets in at the thought of taking another brutal whipping.
Glancing down at my bare forearms as the covers slide off my collarbone, I snatch the fabric back up in a panic. Peeking underneath the heavy quilt reveals nothing but my plain cotton underwear.
Who stripped my clothes off?
My gaze darts around the vast bedroom in search of my missing garments. Then I freeze. Over by the wall near the bed sits a man in a wide armchair, dressed entirely in black with his long legs planted apart and his forearms resting across the padded arms.
His sudden presence isn't even the most shocking part. It is his sheer size, the hard lines of his face, and the heavy, commanding pressure rolling off him in waves.
Thick dark hair frames his sharp features, and a jagged scar cuts straight through his left eyebrow, lending him a lethal edge.
Those unblinking eyes track my every move without betraying a single shred of emotion.
Right then, it hits me.
A sharp tug yanks at the center of my chest, waking a faint, fluttering stir from my dormant wolf.
His scent rolls over me, rich and heady enough to make my head spin.
“Who are you?” I whisper, the words barely audible even to my own ears.
He offers no reply from his spot beside the bed. He just keeps watching me while his dominant Alpha presence settles around my shoulders, lacking any real hostility and carrying an unfamiliar current instead.
“Do you know why I’m in the pack house and in the alpha’s room?”
Maybe I am rattling off rapid-fire questions out of sheer dread of another whipping, or maybe his dead silence is pushing me into a corner. Either way, he stays completely still without twitching a finger, projecting that overwhelming authority that feels strangely comforting because of the steady warmth woven right through it.
Letting out a shaky breath, I sink back against the pillows and yank the quilt up to my chin, acutely aware of my bare skin underneath. Yet that persistent tug inside my chest matches the exact pull that hit me yesterday upon realizing Corbin was my fated mate and feeling the bond snap into place.
“You’re going to reject me, aren’t you? Are they going to punish me?” I ask into the quiet room, tossing out fears he clearly has no intention of addressing.
Drawing my knees up to my chest, I start shaking uncontrollably, which finally draws a visible reaction as his features set into hard lines and his brow lowers. I drop my gaze straight to the mattress, remembering the strict rule against looking any superior in the eye.
“No,” he answers, his deep voice rumbling across the space. “No one is going to hurt you.”
His attention shifts toward the heavy wooden door just as a soft knock sounds from the hallway, prompting him to rise to his feet.
“Cover yourself,” he commands before reaching for the handle.
I pull the blanket over my head right away. The absolute authority in his tone leaves zero room for argument, and I wouldn't dare cross him.
Low male voices exchange a few brief words in the doorway before the latch clicks shut a moment later.
“You can uncover yourself now.”
Lowering the edge of the quilt from my face, I find him standing right beside the mattress holding a loaded wooden tray.
My eyes meet his for half a second before dropping back down to the sheets.
“Sit down and eat, Lyra,” he tells me, the sharp edge gone from his voice this time. “And look at me, I’m not going to bite you. We need to talk.”
Swallowing hard, I give a small nod and push myself up against the headboard, keeping one fist knotted tightly in the covers over my chest. He lowers the tray across my lap, and the rich aroma of steaming food makes my empty stomach ache. Nobody has ever brought me a proper hot meal instead of tossing cold scraps on the floor like someone feeding a stray dog.
Retreating to the armchair across from the bed, Lorcan settles back down and watches in silence while my shaking fingers wrap around the water glass.
Avoiding his eyes takes effort, especially since ignoring a man of his build is next to impossible.
He is massive.
My father’s master suite always seemed enormous during my cleaning shifts, yet this stranger makes the whole room feel cramped.
“Why am I here?” I ask after the quiet stretches between us.
Linking his hands over his stomach, he holds my gaze without blinking.
“Because I brought you here.”
My chest squeezes tight all over again.
“Why?”
He gives a slight tilt of his head, acting as if the answer should be plain to see.
“Because you are my fated mate chosen by the goddess, Lyra.”
My grip tightens around the glass until my knuckles ache.
There is no way that can be true. Corbin was my fated mate, and the raw ache of his rejection still burns inside my chest.
“That’s not possible,” I whisper, dropping my eyes back to the tray. “I was already rejected.”
“And you accepted the rejection,” he states evenly. “The bond broke before you were marked. That allowed me to find you.”
At the sound of his certainty, my weak wolf gives another faint stir deep within.
He lets a few quiet seconds pass before speaking again.
“My name is Lorcan Wraith. I am the crown prince of the Lycan kingdom.”
My head snaps up immediately.
Even a lowly servant knows the terrifying legends surrounding pureblood Lycans. Ruthless, merciless, and nearly impossible to kill on a battlefield. My grandmother always warned me that if a Lycan ever joined a fight, the only smart move was to turn and run for your life.
Now the heir to their throne is sitting a few feet away, watching me closely and waiting for my response.
“Last night, I brought you back to your father’s house because you were injured and distressed,” he goes on. “No one will touch you here again.”
A tight burn rises in my throat.
Leaning forward slightly in his chair, Lorcan drops his voice an octave, though that unyielding steel remains underneath every word.
“I can complete the bond. I can mark you and make you my luna.” He pauses for a beat. “But I’m not going to force you. I want you to answer two questions. Do you accept the mate bond? If you don’t want to, you can reject me. But if you do accept… would you leave this place with me today?”
I stare back at him in utter disbelief, completely thrown by the fact that someone is actually offering me a say in my own life. Not once has anyone ever let me choose.
“I want you to decide for yourself, Lyra.”
Those simple words rattle me to my core for more reasons than one. For starters, he is a royal prince whose brutal reputation alone could reduce my father to tears. Beyond that, a plain, mistreated servant with a barely functioning wolf could never be worthy of standing beside him, not to mention the man is a complete stranger to me.
“You choose me, Prince Wraith? I’m nobody.”
One scarred brow arches slightly across his cool, guarded face.
“I’ve searched for you for years, Lyra. Finding you was a gift from the goddess, and I want you with me, but the choice is yours.”