Chapter 4 The Spill
Lycian‘s POV
“Lycian, I’d like you to meet Adriana Winters. Her father is Alpha of the Northern Ridge pack.”
I shook Adriana’s hand and tried to look interested. She was beautiful. Blonde, tall, wearing a red dress that probably cost a fortune. Her wolf was strong. I could sense it, feel the power radiating from her in subtle waves.
My wolf didn’t even stir.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Adriana’s smile was practiced. Perfect. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Likewise.” I hadn’t heard anything about her, but that was the polite thing to say.
My father stood beside me, looking pleased with himself. He’d been doing this all night. Steering me toward eligible she-wolves. Making introductions. Dropping hints about alliances and suitable matches.
I’d smiled through all of it. Shaken hands. Made polite conversation. And felt absolutely nothing.
“Adriana was just telling me about her work with pack youth programs,” my father said. “Very impressive.”
“It’s important to invest in the next generation.” Adriana launched into a detailed explanation of her volunteer work. All of it sounded rehearsed. Like she’d practiced this speech specifically for tonight.
I nodded at appropriate moments and tried not to check my watch.
Someone else approached. Another introduction. Another perfectly suitable she-wolf. This one was a brunette. Sophia something. From somewhere. Her father was someone important.
My wolf stayed completely silent.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I interrupted Sophia mid-sentence about her graduate program. “I need some air.”
My father gave me a look that said we’d be discussing this later. But he let me go.
I headed toward the balcony on the far side of the hall. Away from the crowd. Away from the music and the laughter and the constant performance of this whole night.
The problem wasn’t that these she-wolves weren’t good enough. They were all accomplished. Beautiful. From strong bloodlines. Any of them would make a perfectly acceptable mate on paper.
But my wolf rejected every single one.
It wanted something specific. Something we hadn’t found yet. And until we found it, nothing else would do.
I was halfway to the balcony when it happened.
One second I was walking through the crowd. Next, someone backed directly into me.
The impact wasn’t hard. Just a bump. But the tray of champagne the person was carrying went flying. Glasses shattered. Liquid soaked through my suit, cold and sticky.
The entire room went silent.
I looked down at my ruined Tom Ford suit. Custom-made. Probably three thousand dollars. Now dripping with champagne.
But I didn’t care about the suit.
Because the moment the person had bumped into me, I’d caught their scent.
Honeysuckle. Summer rain. Something wild and sweet and absolutely intoxicating.
My wolf, which had been silent all night, exploded to life.
MATE.
The word thundered through my mind with such force I actually staggered. My vision blurred. My hands clenched into fists. Every instinct I had screamed at me to shift, to claim, to make sure everyone in this room knew that this person was MINE.
I gripped the edge of a nearby table to keep myself upright. To keep myself human. The wood cracked under my fingers.
My wolf was clawing at my control. Violent. Desperate. More aggressive than it had ever been.
MINE. OURS. CLAIM HER.
Her.
I forced myself to focus. To look at the person who’d just crashed into me.
A girl. Young. Maybe twenty, twenty-one. Dark hair falling out of a simple twist. Wearing a plain black dress that had seen better days. Her eyes were wide with horror. Amber colored. Pretty.
She was mortified. Stammering apologies. I grab napkins from somewhere and try to dab at my suit with shaking hands.
“I’m so sorry. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you. I was backing up and I just…” Her voice was high with panic. “I’m so sorry.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. My entire world had just tilted on its axis and this girl had no idea.
She was my mate.
My fated mate.
The one person in the entire world meant specifically for me.
I’d waited twenty-two years. Endured my father’s lectures about tradition and duty. Rejected countless suitable she-wolves because nothing felt right.
And here she was. Spilling champagne on me at a charity gala.
But something was wrong.
I breathed in her scent again. Honeysuckle and rain and that wild sweetness. But underneath it… nothing. No wolf scent. No pack affiliation. No hint of what she should be.
She was wolfless.
My mind struggled to process that. Mate bonds didn’t form with wolfless individuals. It wasn’t possible. The wolf recognized its match. But if she had no wolf…
My wolf didn’t care. It knew what it knew.
MATE. OURS. CLAIM.
The girl was still trying to clean my suit. Her hand brushed my arm and electricity shot through me at the contact. Pure. Intense. Like touching a live wire.
I gasped. Couldn’t help it.
She jerked back, startled. But I caught her wrist before she could pull away completely.
The moment my skin touched hers, that electric current doubled. Tripled. Racing up my arm and straight to my chest. My wolf howled with satisfaction.
Her pulse hammered under my thumb. I could feel her heartbeat. Fast. Terrified.
She tried to pull away. I held on. Just for a second longer. Just to feel that connection one more time.
“I…” She looked up at me. Those amber eyes met mine. “I’m really sorry about your suit.”
Her voice was soft. Genuine. Nothing like the practiced politeness I’d heard all night from the other she-wolves.
I needed to say something. Anything. But my brain had stopped working.
Someone laughed. Sharp. Mocking. Madison Blackthorn.
“Oh my god. Did you seriously just dump champagne all over Lycian Valor?” Madison’s voice carried across the suddenly silent hall. “That’s hilarious.”
The spell broke.
The girl jerked her wrist free from my grip. Took a step back. Then another.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’ll… I’ll pay for the cleaning. Or the replacement. I don’t know. I’m just… I’m sorry.”
She turned and ran.
Actually, I ran. Grabbed her coat from somewhere and fled toward the exit.
My wolf lunged after her. Every instinct screamed to chase. To catch her. To make her understand.
MATE. OURS. DON’T LET HER LEAVE.
But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t chase her through a room full of people. Not with my eyes probably gold. Not with my control hanging by a thread.
I forced myself to breathe. To push my wolf back down. To remember I was in public.
“Are you alright?” My father appeared at my elbow. Concerned but controlled.
“Fine.” My voice came out rougher than it should have. “Just an accident.”
“That girl should be more careful.” He frowned. “I’ll have someone speak to the catering staff.”
“Don’t.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “It was an accident.”
My father’s eyes narrowed. He’d noticed something. My tone. My tension. Something.
But before he could question me, someone else approached with more pleasantries.
I went through the motions. Smiled. Nodded.
But my mind was somewhere else entirely.
On a girl in an old dress who’d spilled champagne on me and then ran away.
On the scent of honeysuckle and rain that was already fading from my ruined suit.
On the word that kept thundering through my mind.
Mate.
I’d found her. And she’d run from me.
My wolf paced. Angry. Frustrated. Demanding we go after her right now.
But I couldn’t. Not here. Not like this.
I needed to find out who she was.
The gala continued around me. Music. Laughter. People who had no idea that everything had just changed.
I stood in my ruined suit and felt my wolf settle into certainty.
She was out there somewhere. Probably terrified. Definitely confused.
But she was mine.
And I was going to find her.