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Chapter 44

Oz

In the stillness of the night, I prowled the dense forest of Panthera in my panther form. The darkness was a comforting cloak. Though comfort was a strong word. I was hiding.

Mostly keeping out of Stella"s sight. I"d seen the pain in her eyes when she"d realized I wasn"t her fated mate. She"d looked at me with the same disgust as my mother had after I"d suckled her dry and my brother had starved.

It wasn"t your fault.

In my mind, I heard an amalgamation of both Stella"s and Dion"s voices. Both had insisted my runt of a brother wouldn"t likely have made it. It happened with shifter twins. Even more frequently during the Call of the Wild. But my parent had accused me of gluttony. Just as my friend, my king, would accuse me of the same when the full force of the mating bond took hold of him.

A roar tore through the forest. At first I was certain it was a lion. But no, the sound of a soul tearing in half came from inside me.

No matter how much I tried to tell myself that Stella wasn"t mine, that she was rightfully Dion"s mate, that she deserved to be a queen and not pledged to a pauper like me, neither my panther nor my heart bought it.

I"d bound myself to her. In my heart, in my soul, in my very being, she was my mate. Her words of rejection were a blow, but it didn"t sever the bond that tied me to her. That bond could only be broken by death, and I wasn"t ready to let go. Not yet.

Pangs of hunger gnawed at me as I ran. It was a familiar feeling. Surprisingly, it brought comfort. It reminded me where I"d come from, where I would be again once the king returned. Until then, I had one purpose—watching over Stella, ensuring her safety, even as I kept myself hidden from her view.

By day, I moved through the palace, keeping to the shadows as I watched over her. When I knew she was safely inside her rooms at night, I went out into the darkness and hunted.

She"d taken to palace life like it was her due. Because it was. Her father had been royalty of some kind. Born before my time, the man had slipped through the cracks between worlds and fallen to Earth. As his offspring, Stella was treated with reverence, surrounded by those who saw her as a woman soon to be uplifted as their future queen. Not as the mate to a disgraced soldier.

With her rejection, she had the opportunity for a second chance mating to the king. There wouldn"t be a second chance for me. Not in love or in duty.

I felt death at my heels. I knew it was close. So I turned and faced it.

As I moved through the forest, silent and swift, a new scent caught my attention—the unmistakable musk of a lion. It was a scent that evoked memories of my youth, of battles fought and strength tested. And this night, it was a challenge I could not ignore.

The lion emerged from the shadows, a massive creature with a mane that glowed like a halo in the moonlight. Unlike when I was a cub and this world had been on the brink, Panthera was now thriving, as were its inhabitants. This lion showed no bones through its full belly. Its mane was full and proud, its claws sharp, its eyes bright as it took me in.

We sized each other up, two apex predators acknowledging each other"s power. In one breath we were still statues. In the next, we were an action scene accelerated to four times the speed.

The impact was louder than thunder as our bodies collided. The ground shook at our growls. The trees swayed in the opposite direction of the battle.

At first, I submitted to the lion's onslaught. Each swipe of his massive claws raked across my sleek black fur. The strikes were powerful, the pain sharp and immediate. But it was a pain I welcomed, a physical manifestation of the emotional torment that had been gnawing at me since Stella"s rejection.

Each cut, each drop of blood that mingled with the soil beneath us felt like a necessary atonement. I had failed her. I had failed my king. I had failed myself. This pain was a fitting punishment.

The lion"s roars of imminent triumph echoed through the trees. His eyes gleamed with a predator"s hunger, his massive body a symbol of raw, untamed power. His movements were brutal as he danced toward my death under the silvery glow of the moon.

He lunged at me again. His massive paws aimed at my head. I didn"t dodge or duck. That primal instinct within me didn"t stir. I wanted the pain; I craved it. It was a relief from the devastation and loss I felt at Stella"s rejection.

A sound pierced the night. I should not have heard it, but I did. It was the sound of laughter; hauntingly familiar. The laughter belonged to Stella.

It cut through the fog of my pain. It reminded me of the love and life that still existed, even in her absence. It made me greedy to hear it again, to know what had made her giggle. To know how far her smile stretched.

It was the first time in days that I didn"t feel numb. Fueled by this sudden surge of emotion, something within me shifted. It wasn"t so much the need to fight back. It was the desire for knowledge, for details. I needed to know the punch line of the joke, or the story that brought her delight. Once I had that, then… maybe?

A blow to the head sent me sideways. My back had a fight with a tree trunk and lost. Leaves fell into my eyes, obscuring my view as the lion charged, preparing to deliver a killing strike. But I was no longer the passive recipient of his fury.

I needed to know what had made Stella laugh. I needed to see if it lit up her eyes. Did her lower lip stretch as wide as her top lip? What would that taste like?

I blocked the lion"s next strike with my paw. Then I head-butted him, causing that mane to become mussed. A deadly growl tore from my throat as I sidestepped his incoming attack. My muscles coiled with pent-up energy. My counterstrike was swift, a blur of motion as I aimed for his flank, my claws extended.

Our attacks grew more ferocious, more desperate. We were creatures of instinct, of raw power. The forest around us grew rank with the scent of sweat and blood.

The pain of my heartache, the anguish of Stella"s rejection, transformed into something else – a burning need to prove my worth. Not as a mate, but as a man capable of strength and resilience. Each movement, each strike, became a testament to my will to endure, to overcome.

I launched myself at the lion. The taste of blood filled my mouth, metallic and raw. With a swift, calculated move, I took him down, my jaws clamped around his throat. The lion"s body went limp beneath me.

I looked up toward the palace. I couldn"t see it, but I knew exactly where she was. Not bothering to wipe the blood from my mouth, I ran to her.

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