***“The princess has to mate with the Lycan Alpha.”***
Valerion froze the moment he heard those words come out of the High Priestess’ mouth. He felt this blood boil and all the rage and fury building up.
Then he erupted.
The torches burst into flames, shadows stretching wildly across the chamber. His fury was palpable, his wine-red eyes glowing with barely contained rage. The very air around him crackled, warping under the sheer force of his power.
**“NO!”** he thundered. His voice shook the stone walls. **“I WILL NOT ALLOW MY DAUGHTER TO BE BOUND TO A MANGY DOG!”**
His power lashed out—a wave of blood-red energy tore through the chamber, sending witches reeling backward.
Lilith stood her ground, her silver eyes narrowing. “You have no choice, Valerion.”
**“I ALWAYS have a choice,”** he snarled.
The tension was near breaking point when Avalon moved between them. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a weight to his presence that could not be ignored.
“Brother.” Avalon’s voice was calm, measured—a stark contrast to Valerion’s fury. “Listen to reason.”
Valerion’s eyes snapped to him, filled with seething rage. “You want me to be calm while my daughter is bound to a beast?”
Avalon didn’t flinch. “I want you to think, Valerion. If you lose control now, what then? Will you kill your own witches? Destroy your own castle in a fit of rage?” His voice lowered. “Azrael needs you to be strong. Not reckless.”
For a moment, Valerion hesitated.
Then—his fury surged again, untamed and uncontrollable.
**“GET OUT OF MY WAY!”**
Avalon held his ground, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his voice took on a rare edge of warning. “If you kill Lilith for telling you the truth, what will you do next?” His gaze bore into Valerion’s. “Kill your daughter too?”
Valerion stiffened, his hands clenching into fists.
The room fell deathly silent.
Then—he turned sharply, his capea trailing behind him as he strode toward the door.
The door slammed shut behind him, the force of it shaking the very foundations of the castle.
Avalon exhaled slowly, turning back to Lilith. Their eyes met—an entire conversation passing between them without a word.
Lilith sighed. “This is only the beginning.”
Avalon nodded grimly. “I know.”
—
Draven sat alone in his chambers, bathed in the flickering glow of candlelight. The fire crackled low in the hearth, but it did little to warm the icy tension coiled in his gut. His fingers curled into fists on the armrests of his chair, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
Azrael.
She was in pain.
He could feel it through the bond—faint at first, a distant whisper of discomfort that he’d tried to ignore. But it had grown worse. Now, it was a razor-edged agony pressing into his very bones, a relentless ache in his chest that refused to be silenced. His wolf was restless, prowling beneath his skin, desperate to break free and find her.
Mine. She’s hurting. She needs us.
Draven exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself. He had already spent hours trying to push the feeling aside, but it gnawed at him, insatiable. His wolf was right—Azrael was suffering, and he was doing nothing.
A sharp knock on his door made his head snap up.
“Come in,” he barked.
The door creaked open, revealing Cyrus, his Beta and most trusted friend. His expression was grim as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Draven sat up immediately, his instincts sharpening. “What did you find out?”
Cyrus hesitated, as if weighing how best to deliver the news. Finally, he spoke. “Azrael collapsed in court. She’s been in pain ever since.”
Draven’s eyes darkened. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arms and legs coiling like a predator ready to strike. “Collapsed?”
Cyrus nodded. “She’s suppressing the mate bond to the point that it’s killing her.”
The words slammed into Draven like a blow to the gut. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he shot to his feet. “I’m going to her.”
“Draven, wait—”
“What is it Cyrus?!” he snapped, already moving toward the door.
Cyrus stepped in front of him, his stance firm. “Think about this. The vampires and Lycans have already declared war on each other. Marching into their territory right now would be a very bad idea.”
Draven growled low in his throat, his wolf raging inside him. “ My mate is in pain. She’s dying, you said it yourself. She needs me!”
Cyrus didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. “She doesn’t.”
Draven’s head snapped toward him, fury flashing in his brown eyes. “You would have me stand here and do nothing?”
“The pack won’t support you on this,” Cyrus pressed. “They think you marked her as a power move, as retaliation against the vampires. They don’t know that you and the vampire princess are mates, and it’s better we keep it that way.” His voice dropped, sharp as a blade. “Or do you want the same thing that happened to your brother to happen to you?”
Draven stilled. His brother.
The older sibling he had once admired, the warrior who had been strong—until he wasn’t. The brother who had been killed by his own father after the pack found out he was mated to a vampire.
Draven’s fists clenched at his sides.
Cyrus softened, just slightly. “Showing up at the enemy’s doorstep is only going to make matters worse. They’ll ambush and kill you before you even set eyes on Azrael.”
Draven exhaled harshly. He knew Cyrus was right. He knew that if he set foot in vampire territory now, he wouldn’t make it back. But every second he stood here, doing nothing, Azrael suffered.
His mate.
“What do you think I should do?” Draven asked, his voice low, filled with frustration.
Cyrus hesitated, then sighed. “I know she’s your destined mate, and I know this situation isn’t your fault. But whatever move you make will turn the pack against you—and will also get you killed by the vampires.”
Draven’s eyes flashed. “So I should just leave her in pain until she dies?”
Cyrus didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The look on his face said it all.
Draven swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “Do you know what it means to lose a mate?”
Cyrus’s expression darkened, but he kept his voice even. “I know. I know the consequences. But you don’t really have a choice, Draven.”
The words rang in the heavy silence between them.
Draven turned toward the window, staring into the vast, moonlit wilderness beyond the pack's stronghold. His wolf still raged, still demanded he run to her. But for now, he was trapped.