For a moment, nobody moved. Then slowly, Darius released me, his expression shifting from arrogance to unease.
"Who the hell was that?" he muttered, glancing toward the growl.
I didn't answer. I didn't know who he was, but I felt a strange pull towards him, a sense of safety I hadn't felt in years. My eyes drifted to where he was across the room, but he was no longer there.
I turned around frantically, searching for him in the crowd, but I couldn't find him. He was just here a few seconds ago. The cruel laughter from the boys reminded me of my current dilemma.
One of the boys suddenly yelped and pointed to my legs. I flushed in embarrassment as they laughed again. It was my warm juices… I was so horny that I could feel every underwear I had on, soaked. I closed my eyes, trying to block everyone out. My body was just reacting to having plenty of men around me at the same time.
"What's the matter, Lyla?" feeling a little… needy?" Darius taunted me as he stepped closer again. "I bet you'd do anything to make this stop, wouldn't you?"
My breath hitched. I could feel my heat intensifying. Darius' voice—the manly scents of the men around me… gosh! It was driving me crazy, making my skin burn and my thoughts blur. It was as though every nerve in my body was on fire and the unbearable desire coursing through my veins overwhelmed my senses.
I moaned loudly, clamping my legs together as the scent of my high arousal hung heavy in the air. Right now, that didn't matter. I just wanted to take care of the pressure building inside me.
"Come on," Darius sneered, leaning in closer. "Why don't you just beg us? We might take pity on you, mutt."
I recoiled, my heart racing. The insult stung, but the worst part was the twisted flicker of excitement that pulsed through me at his words. I hated my body's betrayal, how it craved for any touch, any relief, even from those who despised me. My legs felt weak, my breath ragged, and I knew I was losing control.
This wasn't the peak yet, but the heat was too much and it fogged my mind, causing my need to grow every second.
Darius' friends jeered, their taunts mingling with the roaring in my ears. "Look at her," one of them laughed. "She can barely stand. Pathetic."
Another boy stepped forward and ran his index finger over my lips. I gasped with want and opened my mouth as he inserted his finger inside it. Tears burned in my eyes—I wished I could stop myself, but I couldn't.
I ran my tongue up and down his finger, moaning.
The boy's voice dripped with false sympathy as he turned to his friends. "I bet she'd do anything to make this stop. Isn't that right, Lyla? Do you want me to…"
I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed through them before he could finish speaking, stumbling as I tried to escape. All the eyes in the hall were on me, coupled with the mocking laughter of Darius and his friends, but I didn't look back. My only thought was to get away, to find somewhere–anywhere–I could breathe.
I collided with a solid wall of muscle and staggered back. I looked up, an apology on my lips, but the words died in my throat.
It was the amber-eyed man. His gaze locked onto mine with a mix of curiosity and something darker. Up close, he was even more striking -tall, broad-shoulders, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit — showing off his power and authority.
A collective hush fell over the room as everyone turned to watch. I could feel their stares and a sickening dread pooled in my stomach. My eyes drifted to his signet on the third finger of his left hand and I gasped. He was the Lycan leader, but not just any Lycan leader. He was the Lycan Leader of the White Moon Throne—the highest rank in our world.
My heart pounded as I realized the gravity of the situation. I was standing before the most powerful man in my world, with the scent of my arousal on his face. I trembled, expecting a reprimand. Or worse. I knew the punishment for uncontrolled heat cycles, especially in public. My condition is a disgrace, a shame that could bring down the wrath of the White Moon Throne council.
The Lycan leader's eyes were intense, a deep amber that seemed to see right through me. But instead of condemnation, his gaze held something else. He reached out, pulling me up from the ground with surprising gentleness.
"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice sending shivers through my already hypersensitive skin. His touch was electric, his hand warm against my arm, and my breath hitched again as I struggled to find my voice.
"I–I'm fine," I stammered, but my body chose that moment to betray me again. Another wave of heat crashed over me, stronger than before, and my knees buckled. I sagged against him, my vision blurring as desire overwhelmed my senses.
The Lycan leader caught me. His grip was firm. Our bodies were impossibly close now, and I could feel the hard planes of his chest against mine. I could smell the intoxicating mix of his scent—earthy, wild, and dangerous. I glanced up at him, my cheeks flushed and found his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart race.
Time seemed to slow. The room faded away, the whispers and the judgment fading into the background as I and the Lycan leader stood locked in this strange, charged moment.
His eyes darkened, a flash of something raw and primal crossing his features. I couldn't look away. I was drawn to him in a way that defied reason, a powerful attraction that made me forget where I was and who I was supposed to be.
The Lycan leader's head dipped lower, his lips just inches from mine. My breath caught in my throat and I leaned into him, wanting–no, needing–him to close the distance. My body craved the connection, the relief only he could provide in this moment of my longing.
But before our lips could meet, a voice cut through the haze.
"Lyla?"
I blinked, snapping out of the trance. Nathan, my childhood friend, stood at the edge of the gathering, his eyes wide with shock.
"What's going on here?" he demanded, coming closer, his voice filled with concern.
Nathan's gaze flickered to the Lycan leader and his brows arched with recognition. His expression shifted instantly to one of respect and immediately he bowed low.
"My apologies, Alpha Ramsey. I didn't realize…".
I barely heard the rest of the apology. All I could focus on was Ramsey's arms still wrapped around me, his touch burning through my dress, searing my skin. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face, couldn't ignore the way his fingers lingered on my waist as though he didn't want to let go.
The Lycan leader's - whose name I now know to be Alpha Ramsey - gaze remained locked on me, but whatever connection that had sparked between us a moment ago had been abruptly severed. His expression shifted, hardening into something unreadable.
In a swift motion, he released me and I stumbled back, catching myself just in time to avoid falling.
The heat of his touch lingered, and I felt my heart twist painfully as I watched him turn away without another word. He moved through the crowd, his posture rigid, his presence commanding respect from every werewolf in the room. No one dared to approach him, not even Nathan, who stood frozen in place.
My legs felt weak as I watched Ramsey leave. The moment had passed, and I was left reeling; my body still burning with unfulfilled desire. I had never felt anything like this—this pull toward a man who was as dangerous as he was mesmerizing.
My mind spun with the implication of what had just happened with the realization that Alpha Ramsey…
The Lycan leader had looked at me as though he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him.
Ramsey
I sat in the back seat of the car, staring out of the window with a bored expression. The city lights blurred past, and the muted hum of traffic filled the silence. I loosened my tie, dreading yet another event I didn't want to attend.
Werewolf/Lycans galas, paring ceremonies, and these absurd gatherings were nothing more than charades—a parade of insincerity wrapped in fine clothing and forced smiles.
I've always hated these events. As the Lycan leader, my presence was often demanded, and that was the thing I hated about my position. I hated how everyone would become desperate, vying for my attention, eager to impress me, with fake smiles and fake handshakes, and then the compliments annoyed me as well.
Although I was the most powerful man in my world, the leader of all Werewolves and Lycans, the title brings power and isolation. To me, our world was filled with a lot of pretences, starting from the fake Moon Goddess who doesn't care about anyone, never lifts her finger to help her children and the overrated stupid mate bond.
I leaned back and sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Another night wasted," I muttered under my breath, already counting the minutes until I could leave.
As the car pulled up in front of the grand ballroom, I glanced at the gigantic building with distaste.
The bright lights and red carpets were nothing more than a façade, a mask hiding the true nature of those within. I felt the familiar surge of irritation. I didn't belong here -not with these people and not with their shallow traditions.
The door opened and my grandfather, Eldric, stepped out of the car with the energy of a man half his age. His eyes were still sharp and commanding and they were currently glaring at me, who hadn't bothered to make a move out of the car.
My grandfather had insisted on coming with me to the gala because he was convinced I wouldn't show up and he wasn't wrong.
"Is this necessary, Grandpa?" I asked, my voice filled with annoyance as I finally exited the vehicle. "I've got more important and pressing issues on my table than standing around while everyone tries to kiss my ass."
My grandfather raised an eyebrow, unfazed by my sour mood. "As long as you're the Lycan Leader, you have responsibilities, including this one. And until you bring a mate home, you'll keep attending pairing ceremonies and galas like this. It's tradition."
I rolled my eyes. "Tradition my foot," I scoffed. "You know damn well I don't care about that. I'm not some lovesick puppy waiting for my fated mate. And I don't need you commanding me around like I'm still a child. I'm the Lycan leader, remember?"
My grandfather scoffed, his gaze piercing into mine. "Until you find your mate, you're not complete as a leader. You should be ashamed to call yourself one. I was already married when I was your age," he huffed.
"This is not a command—it's a duty and you must fulfil it. Now, go in. I'll be waiting for you. So if you're planning to leave… bad news, son."
I clenched my jaw, swallowing my retort. There was no winning with him when he got like this. Without another word, I turned on my heel and strode into the ballroom.
As soon as I entered, the room fell silent. Heads turned, and whispers rippled through the crowd until I could feel the weight of every gaze on me. I hated it. The constant scrutiny, the veiled attempts to gain my favour—it was all so exhausting.
I made my way to the far side of the room, hoping to avoid any unnecessary interaction. But it wasn't long before a stream of young alphas and betas approached me. I endured the endless greetings and mechanical conversations with a polite but distant smile. I nodded and exchanged pleasantries, but my mind was elsewhere.
This was my routine–a show-up I had to endure and leave as soon as decently possible. I was already planning my exit when something strange happened.
A scent. Faint at first, but unmistakable.
Sweet, warm and wholly unfamiliar. It cut through the heavy perfumes and colognes of the gala, drawing my attention like a moth to a flame. I stiffened, my senses sharpening as I scanned the room. My wolf - Lax, stirred inside me, restless, urging me to find the source.
Then I saw her.
A young woman, standing awkwardly by herself near the back, her cheeks flushed and eyes wild. She looked out of place in the polished crowd, her aura paled compared to the poised and composed women surrounding her.
Her long hair fell in dishevelled waves and her dress clung to her as if she'd just run a marathon. It was a baby pink that reminded me of a homeless Omega that tried once to seduce me.
But it wasn't her appearance that caught my attention. It was the undeniable scent of her heat, radiating off her in waves, filling the air.
People around her had their noses wrinkled in disgust—I should be disgusted too, but my Lax growled instead, running around in happy circles as it echoed the one word I'd dreaded and run away from for most of my life.
MATE!!!
My eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to blur. The noise of the gala faded and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart, quickening with every breath I took. The girl's scent was intoxicating, pulling me against my will and my wolf–Lax pushed forward, eager to claim what was his.
But then, the voices of some people nearby snapped me back to reality. I watched as a group of people kept sneaking glances at the girl, their faces twisted with disdain.
"Why can't she control her pheromones? How pathetic!" One of them complained.
"Guess that's what happens when you don't have a wolf. No wonder she can't find a mate," the second one laughed.
"Wolfless deviant. She doesn't belong here."
My jaws tightened. Lax growled with annoyance at the insults hurled at our mate, but I forced it back, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. So, this was her — an outcast, a wolfless werewolf, who couldn't even control her own body. A deviant…
From all the thousand girls the Moon Goddess could have given me as mate, she chose this? What a joke!
My eyes narrowed as I watched her, the pull of the mate bond thrumming under my skin. I didn't want this; I didn't want her.
I wasn't big on fated mates, but a mate without a wolf was useless, weak and would only tarnish my reputation and set me up against the people I rule.
I couldn't accept her or accept the bond. Thankfully, she isn't aware so, it'll be smooth. The world was already watching me, expecting too much and I couldn't afford to tie myself to a deviant, someone who would never understand or fulfil the role of my mate.
I turned away to leave but Lax–my wolf growled in protest, begging me to cross over to where she was, but I pushed it down. She was nothing more than a complication and I had no time for complications.
I cast one last glance at the girl across the room, feeling a strange mix of regret and relief. She would remain an outcast, a deviant with no place in my world. And I would continue to be the leader, unbound and free of the chains of fated bonds.
As I strode out of the ballroom, I saw one of the young alphas draw close to her and grab her breast. Anger surged through me… at that moment, I wanted to reach out and tear the Alpha into pieces, but I held back.
His hands moved lower—before I could think through my actions, I growled…
Komentar Paragraf
Fitur komentar paragraf sekarang ada di Web! Arahkan kursor ke atas paragraf apa pun dan klik ikon untuk menambahkan komentar Anda.
Selain itu, Anda selalu dapat menonaktifkannya atau mengaktifkannya di Pengaturan.
MENGERTI