Chapter 8- Handing Out Mates Like Candy
Elowen POV
I didn’t leave our chambers for three whole days. Three. Fucking. Days.
I was wrecked in the best way. Stretched, stuffed, kissed, claimed, loved. Every inch of me had been worshipped by my mates, over and over, until the heat finally broke and I was left a trembling, satisfied puddle of hormonal goo. And now?
Now I was glowing. Probably literally. I was definitely maybe pregnant. Did I care? Not even a little. I was so full of love I thought I might float right off the damn balcony.
I’d finally gotten my strength back, walking steady on my own two feet without needing Bram to carry me everywhere like a princess in heat (okay, but like… it was hot, and I didn’t mind). So today, I decided it was time to check in on the one girl in this keep who had it rougher than me, Noctara.
She’d been moved to a royal guest suite two floors down. One with enchanted blackout curtains and a whole ass blood fridge because, oh yeah, our golden girl was also a fledgling vampire.
When I knocked, the door creaked open with a whisper of magic, and I stepped into soft candlelight and the faint scent of roses and copper. Ashrian was seated in the corner, his usual dark, regal self, and perched across from him on the chaise was Soria.
Of course she was here.
The tension crackled the second I walked in. Soria offered a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and I gave her a nod that could freeze lava. Amicable was generous, we tolerated each other. Barely. I didn’t trust her, and I knew she didn’t like that I existed.
But this wasn’t about us. Noctara turned at the sound of my boots, and her golden eyes lit up like the fucking sun. She looked better. Stronger. Less haunted. Her skin had more color, her cheeks weren’t as sunken, and her aura, yeah, I felt that shit, was beginning to mend.
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Soria said, standing abruptly. Her tone was too smooth, too sweet. “She’s in good hands.”
“Obviously,” I replied, flashing her a smile full of teeth. “Bye now.”
She vanished with a swish of cloak and shadow. Ashrian stood, brushing Noctara’s shoulder with reassurance. “You’re doing amazing, little star. I’ll check in later.”
He kissed my temple on the way out. “Try not to traumatize her.”
“No promises,” I muttered, flopping onto the couch beside Noctara. “So... how’s our baby bat doing?”
She giggled, which made my heart squeeze. “I’m surviving. That’s... new.”
I grinned. “Surviving is good. Step one on the badass queen checklist.”
She gave me a curious look, then a smirk. “And where the hell have you been, Miss Vanishing Queen?”
Heat crept into my cheeks. “Don’t judge me,” I said, laughing. “Three days. One heat. Five very eager mates. I don’t even know what year it is anymore.”
She burst out laughing, covering her mouth like it surprised her. “Oh gods. You poor thing.”
“Don’t ‘poor thing’ me,” I winked. “I was thriving. I’m just not sure my uterus survived.”
We both cracked up, and the mood lightened like a cloud being blown away.
“Do you think…” she hesitated, chewing her lip, “will I ever find a mate? Or… is that out of the cards now?”
I scooted closer, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Girl,” I said, eyes glowing, “the gods are handing out fated mates like candy at a fae festival. Look around. Shit’s weird. Anything is possible.”
She blinked at me, wide eyed. “You think?”
“I know.” I smirked. “Trust me. You’re a royal wolf with vampire strength and golden eyes that could melt stone. Someone out there’s already dreaming about you. They just haven’t found you yet.”
She exhaled, soft and hopeful, and for the first time, I saw it, the fierce alpha buried under all that trauma. She was still in there. And now she had space to heal.
And I’d be right here until she did.
Breakfast was chaos. The good kind. Plates clanked, coffee flowed, and the scent of meat, maple, and magic filled the air thick enough to chew. I was nestled between Daxon and Bram, my mates feeding me like I hadn’t just been stuffed full of dick and spoiled for three damn days. Across the long banquet table, Noctara looked a little shell shocked but glowed beneath all the attention she was getting.
Luna Aelira stood at the head of the room, her presence like moonlight turned into steel. Alpha Draven stepped beside her, giving Noctara a proud nod.
“Pack,” he called, voice booming like a damn thunderclap. “Today we welcome home a bloodline long thought lost. Stand for Noctara Velmira, daughter of the Velmira line, heir to the eastern keep and the fiercest bite this side of the Hollow Range.”
The entire room stood and howled as one. Noctara blinked like she didn’t know if she should cry or run, but then she smiled. A real one. And my heart fucking soared.
After breakfast, we all made our way to the massive outdoor training arena, an expanse bigger than a damn football stadium. Thousands were there already. Wolves, lycans, beast shifters, mages, witches, and even a few squads of badass human Marines, all gathering in formation, sparring, or practicing enchantments.
The energy was electric. A storm ready to break. Noctara stuck close to me, wide eyed as we passed by a row of bear shifters lifting massive logs like toothpicks. “There’s so many of them,” she whispered.
“We’re not hiding anymore,” I said with a grin. “We’re building an army.”
We stepped onto the sparring field, boots crunching over the packed earth. I tossed her a pair of reinforced training daggers. “Think you can keep up?”
She raised a brow. “You sure you can?”
Oh, that’s how she wanted to play it? Game on.
We circled, muscles coiled, wolves humming in our minds. Lyssira yipped with excitement as Noctara lunged first, fast as lightning. Her style was sharp and brutal, all rogue efficiency and instincts honed in survival. I had the technique, the finesse, but damn, she had bite.
We went at it hard, steel clashing, feet dancing, sweat beading. Growls and cheers erupted from the crowd as we traded blows like old rivals. Finally, finally, I got the upper hand, sweeping her legs and pinning her down with a smug grin.
She huffed, breathing hard beneath me, golden eyes blazing. “You cheat.”
“I’m prettier. That counts.”
We laughed, clapped hands, and pulled each other to our feet, both panting and high on adrenaline. I was just about to suggest lunch and a long shower when Noctara… froze.
Mid step. Stiff as a board. Then her nose twitched. She sniffed again.Then growled. Low. Sharp. Primal.
“Oh fuck,” I muttered, feeling Lyssira start vibrating in my head. “You smell it, don’t you?”
She didn’t answer, just turned toward the distant shimmer of a portal tearing open on the far edge of the field. And I swear the whole earth held its breath as two hundred rogue lycans marched out in perfect formation.
Dust curled. Growls echoed. Then...The tallest one at the head of the pack, a beast of a man easily 6’6", long brown hair falling over his broad shoulders, paused. His nose lifted. Sniffed.
Then his roar ripped through the sky like thunder made of hunger and fate. “I smell mate!” he howled. “Mate!”
Noctara whimpered. Her legs shook. But she didn’t hide, she stepped forward, trembling like the world might end if he said no.
He locked eyes on her. And dropped. The massive lycan hit his knees, wrapping his thick arms around her legs like he’d never let go. “Mine,” he rasped, voice raw and wrecked.
She stared down at him like she couldn’t believe it. Like the world had finally cracked wide and chosen her. And I...I..was ready to lose my fucking mind.
“If you reject her,” I growled loud enough for the whole damn field to hear, “I will chop your balls off and feed them to you with a rusty spoon.”
The lycan never even looked my way. His gaze stayed locked on Noctara, worshipful. “Say yes,” he whispered.
Her golden eyes filled with tears, and her voice cracked with disbelief. “Yes,” she breathed. Then louder. “Yes. Yes. YES.”
He whooped and stood with her in his arms like she weighed nothing, spinning her in a dizzy blur of joy as whistles, howls, and applause erupted around us.
I turned to Bram and smirked. “Well, shit. Told her the gods were handing out fated mates like candy.”
Bram chuckled. “You weren’t wrong.”
“What’s his name?” I asked, still watching the scene unfold.
Daxon stepped up beside us, arms crossed. “That’s Commander Ravek Dreadclaw The highest ranking blood of the rogue lycans.”
“Well,” I said, grinning wide, “looks like our baby bat just got her fangs and her man.”