Chapter - Richard

Nooooooooo! Big Daddy bellows and rages and bashes against my bones as he tries to follow Lola. But I can't move; I can barely think around a storm of emotion—shock; confusion; deep, instinctive need. I press against the half wall that surrounds my upper porch and lift my head, looking to the moon, praying for her guidance.

Every bit of my alpha nature tells me to follow Lola, because I hurt her. She ran from me, and it's so wrong, I grind my teeth against the sensation of my skin pulling too tight, anxiety building in my chest. I rub at it as logic overwhelms my emotion. Our difference in age isn't a big deal—I'm far, far older than her—but wolves live a very long time.

My king is the problem. If Marco knew she kissed me, he'd rip me in two and toss me into the bay for the crabs.

She said he didn't want her to be forced. And she wants you. Make him understand!Big Daddy's emotions are firmly in the chase her down now camp, but I keep my feet planted as I roll through all the possible outcomes of what happened. I'm the pack alpha; I don't always get what I want. Even in an individual haven, as opposed to far up the pecking order where Marco is, I have to be politically smart about the choices I make. I have more freedom than he does, but there are still…considerations.

Luna,Big Daddy whines, morose as he flops down in our shared mental space, dragging his cheek in the dirt. She was so beautiful, so perfect, so ready. She fucking kissed you, you idiot!

Luna. I don't know how I'd know if she was my Luna or not. The lore about the Luna bond is sparse, mostly lost to history. But what I do know is that Lola was crafted by the goddess Alaya herself to belong to me, to be mine in every way. It's why we can't stop touching, why I can't seem to keep my head on straight around her. It's why she perfumes so fucking hard for me. She and her wolf are calling for me and mine in every possible way they can. She's my mate. I know that with absolute certainty. I think I knew it before tonight, but when her lips touched mine?

I'm done.

It's fucking cruel, so fucking cruel for Fate to promise me the one woman I shouldn't touch. I've been single a long time—decades. I'd always hoped that if and when my mate, or even just a compatible omega, came to me, it would be uncomplicated for us. Being alpha is complicated enough.

But the godsdamned princess of our people?

I growl and shift off the wall, descending the stairs into my main living area. Her anguished scent fills the space as I pause in the hallway, closing my eyes to drink her in. That scent compels me, feet moving without conscious thought. I'm out my door and winding through the streets until I reach her guest house. Her unhappy scent saturates the air, forcing a rumbly whine from my throat.

This is wrong. So wrong.

I'm sorry, I moan to myself. Goddess, what was I thinking?

Thankfully, Big Daddy is quiet in my mind, allowing me to wallow in misery as I stand outside Lola's treehouse, refusing to barge into her space but desperately begging her to come to the door. She doesn't, and when I eventually turn to leave, Big Daddy recedes into the depths of my mind.

Hurting Lola last night opened a wound inside me that's festering, knowing she's feeling pain and it's my fault. Top that shit sundae off with Big Daddy's ire and I didn't get a moons-damned wink.

At 3 a.m. I give up on sleep. Swinging my legs off the bed, I prop my elbows on my knees and run both hands through my hair. The giant circular window in my bedroom is set to transparent, rain pounding the surface. Big Daddy starts immediately in on me.

You rejected our Luna. If I could break out of here and kick your ass, you'd be dead!

I could have bitten her last night,I admit. I wanted to.

Good. Bite her. Mark her. Fill her with pups. Goddess, they'd be so beautiful.

Pups.

Heat flashes through me at the idea of Lola swollen with child, of her perfect breasts filled with life-giving milk. I don't think I realized I had a pregnancy kink until this precise moment, but my dick bobs between my thighs, dripping sticky precum to the floor as my knot swells to a painful point.

Needs to get kissed and locked by Lola.

Him giving me that idea does nothing to dissipate the heat. My imagination runs rampant to a vision of her pregnant, on all fours, me pounding into her from behind as her pussy locks tight around my knot, holding us together while I pump her full of me. Of her neck bared for my teeth. Of me cherishing every moment with her.

I fall back onto the bed, my dick a waving flag until it falls hard and hot against my belly. Every instinct tells me to go to her place, but then logic rears its ugly head. It's 3 a.m. She's probably sleeping. It would be a dick move to wake her up for an apology.

Rolling onto my side, I pull open a drawer in my bedside table and retrieve a pocket pussy. The treehouse does me the favor of blurring the window so my neighbors don't have to watch me jack off.

Big Daddy growls as I slip the toy over my cock, grunting at the sensation of all that slick, cold plastic kissing my length.

Go find the real thing, he barks. Fix this.

I ignore him as I yank the toy up and down, teasing the edge of my knot. When the toy pops over the swollen ring around the base of my dick with a sloppy slurp, I pant and arch my back. It feels good, too good, and I'm going to come too damn fast. I've gotta take the edge off before I do something rash.

But I keep imagining Lola and all the ways I want to dominate her, ways she'd love because she's built for me. I explode a half dozen pumps later, snapping my teeth as an orgasm ripples through me, hard enough that my eyes roll into my head, lips curling back as my muscles lock with pleasure.

When it fades, I'm coated in a fine sheen of sweat and thoroughly fucking dissatisfied. Tossing the used-up toy on my bed, I stare at the ceiling for a solid three hours, considering all the angles and trying to come up with a solution that feels right. Ultimately I decide that I need more information. It's hard for me to trust Big Daddy's desires given that he seems to leave logic out of them most of the time.

Eventually I stand and head for the shower. If I'm this much of a mess after last night, I can't imagine how my mate feels.

Holy moons. I thought of her that way instinctively. I've got to find her and talk to her. It's not right, the way things happened last night. I know that, I just…the harder I look for my earlier excuses, the more difficult it is to actually find them.

I twist the silver shower knob on, stepping under the cold water to wash away all evidence of what I did.

Big Daddy is silently watchful as I go through the motions of washing up and dressing. He stays silent as I leave my apartment and head up the main drag toward what used to be an empty spot on the street but is now Arkan's father, Vikand's office. It's too early for anyone to be about—probably too early for Lola to be up—but Vikand is here all the time, it seems.

The glass-paned storefront window is full of dusty books stacked in what appears to be complete disarray. Though, having known Vikand for a short time, I suspect he knows where every book is. I grip the branch-shaped handle and open a thick wooden door, a small bell tinkling to announce my arrival.

Inside, the small space is filled floor to ceiling with books on shelves. They overflow the shelves onto the floor in big, misshapen stacks. Ancient-looking papers stick out of about half of them, handwritten notes scribbled right to the very edges.

Muttering reaches me from somewhere in the back. I follow the sound across the small space and around a corner to a standing desk. There used to be a computer on that desk, but now it's just more stacks of books. Vikand stands there, glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a giant open book in one hand as he turns the page with the other.

His black tail swishes slowly behind him, short wavy hair slicked back over his pointed ears. Goddess, he and Arkan look so much alike. Their personalities couldn't be more different though. Our current Keeper is charming and direct with a surprising sense of humor. His father is…none of those things.

When Vikand doesn't seem to notice my presence, I clear my throat and step to the very front of his table.

Black brows scrunch together as he lifts his gaze to mine, jerking back as if startled.

He closes the book and sets it down, lifting his glasses off his nose. He folds them carefully and tucks them in a pocket of his fitted gray vest. "Alpha, what are you doing here?" He looks confused.

I cock my head to the side, examining the peculiar older centaur. "I'm here to discuss my wolf. I thought Connall mentioned it to you when he invited you to our leadership meeting."

Vikand strokes his chin with long black fingers. "Ah, come to think of it, he did. While I was there, I was considering the magic that allowed Morgan Hector to kill Wesley. Gods, it's a deep, ancient magic she called. Do you know?—"

"I need to discuss my wolf with you," I interject. "The Wesley issue is done. My wolf is a problem."

Big Daddy grunts deep in my mind, lifting his head to narrow his shining eyes at me.

Vikand crosses his arms, halting the swish of his tail. "Tell me what's happening, and we can go from there."

I sigh. "Right before the Wesley events, my wolf began speaking to me. His voice is clear in my mind, which is usually cause for celebration among our people, as you probably know."

Vikand nods, brows furrowing again as he stares at me intensely.

I continue, "Typically, it's a sign of strength to be able to speak to one's wolf. It's something I always secretly wished for, if I'm honest. But then he began talking, and we are not aligned."

Vikand shifts forward, placing both hands flat on his desk. "Not aligned? In what way?"

A rumbly growl echoes in my throat, Big Daddy making his displeasure at this conversation known. I grunt and shove his ire down. "We don't agree on anything. He fights me. He's dominant and sometimes I feel he lacks the more rational side that allows me to make long-term decisions."

Don't need that. Instinct is best. Like with Lola.

As soon as he's made that statement, he disappears. I sigh and point to my head.

"It's happening right now. He disagrees that he even needs to consider the long term. He says instinct is best." I leave Lola out of it, because thinking about her pain from last night makes me want to flip tables and punch myself.

Vikand nods slowly, glancing off into the book stacks as he seems to mull over my words. He sucks at his teeth and turns back to me. "Have you considered that he's right?"

A satisfied chuff echoes from the depths of my mind.

I grit my teeth. "If I listened to him, I'd be doing things I shouldn't be doing."

"Like what?" Vikand opens his arms wide. "What, precisely, has he suggested you do that would be so bad?"

I debate the merits of sharing all of this with Vikand, so I level him with a serious look. "This stays between us. I haven't even discussed this with Connall. Or Arkan," I tack on.

Vikand nods. "I can keep a secret; although, you may have noticed my boy is incredibly intuitive, despite the charming persona."

"Oh, I know," I mutter. "I just haven't found my footing with him yet. I worked with Abemet for so long, I'm accustomed to his ways."

Vikand smiles. "You and Arkan will find your groove, but that's your path to travel. Tell me what your wolf is asking you to do that's so bad. I won't discuss it with my son."

I sigh. "My wolf is attracted to the princess."

Vikand snorts, stomping one of his dark forelegs. "Princess Lola?"

"Yeah."

He cuts me an assessing look. "How attracted?"

Goddess, this is gonna get awkward. I cross my arms. "The attraction goes both ways. He thinks she's my Luna."

Vikand's mouth drops open. "Do you know how rare that is, Alpha?" He waves the question away before I even get a chance to answer it. "Of course you do—silly question." Wide eyes flash back to me. "Do you disagree with him?"

And there it is, the question at the heart of all my current angst. How can my best friend's daughter be my mate?

"I don't know how I'd know about the Luna part, but she's mine," I whisper. "And her father is my best friend. I was his Second for centuries, Vikand. This is impossibly complicated. I hurt her feelings last night, I—" My voice fails as I reminisce on how fucking terrible it felt to hurt her. I was shocked in the moment, terrified of what it meant to open those flood gates.

I don't usually waffle like that.

The centaur male says nothing as he looks to his left at a stack of thick, dusty books. His fingers trail down the pages until he gets to one near the bottom. He grips the spine carefully and pulls the book out, laying it open on the tabletop between us. He pulls his glasses out of his pocket and perches them on the tip of his nose, hovering over the book. Deft fingers find a page and open to it.

He spins the book to face me. The top half of the page is a singular drawing of a shifted wolf, eyes glowing from where he stands in a dense grove of trees. He stands easily a head taller than the few wolves on either side of him. They look like the last line of defense, standing in a row.

Vikand taps below the picture, bringing my attention to rows of unintelligible text beneath the photo. "This book is an account of a pixie living in the wilds in an area with a ruling shifter pack, many, many thousands of years ago. The shifters ruled the forest and kept everyone safe." He glances up. "This was long before the Cerinvalla Act created the haven system, so, of course, monsters were more at risk from dark forces."

He slides his fingers over the words. Most are in a language I can't fathom, much less read—the language of our goddess, Alaya. I've seen the maze-like text in books before. Marco has a whole shelf of them in his office. But I've never known anyone who could read it. No one has. Thankfully, parts of her account seem to have been translated into English.

Vikand continues, "From the sections I can read, their pack alpha's wolf began to speak to him, which isn't unheard of, but then they began to fight. He'd have fits where he'd shout at his wolf, bashing his head against rocks and begging for relief."

I gulp. "And what happened?"

Vikand sighs. "He threw himself off a cliff and died."

I snarl. "This is not helpful."

Vikand points to the next page. "Right, but her account continues. After the alpha died, his Second took over, and his wolf began speaking to him. But instead of waiting for it to get to a point where they drove one another crazy, he went searching for answers. Nobody had ever seen an alpha and his wolf disagree. They thought there might be a sickness going through the pack, something to explain the discord. The pixie accompanied him as a scribe, because the new alpha wanted his findings to be passed along to other wolves, if he was able to figure out what happened to his predecessor."

Vikand closes the book and pushes it toward me. "Your answers lie within this book, Richard."

Frustration gets the better of me, a soft growl rumbling from my throat. Big Daddy is quieter than he's ever been.

"I can't read most of this book, Vikand. Can you summarize anything else?"

The centaur smiles, but it's sad, his gaze thoughtful. "I know, but take it anyhow. You might find yourself curious about the details, or perhaps your wolf will have insight. But, yes, this pack ultimately determined one thing." He gives me a wry look. "On their adventures, the alpha found his Luna. And once he cemented their bond, he became bigger, stronger, more powerful. He and his wolf both communicated with her, and he never had the issues the first alpha had. Instead, they both came into enormous amounts of power."

All of the air disappears from the room as I grip the edge of the table. She's the answer to this discord. Of course she is. I close my eyes and try to feel for her, to call her to me. I need to have this conversation with her directly. If what he's saying is true, then maybe Big Daddy is right. Maybe she and I share this bond, the first pair to share it in thousands of years. I don't know how we'd know other than Big Daddy's insistence.

I just know. Isn't that enough?

I can't find words to answer him. Desperation to speak with Lola rides me until I can barely stand still.

Vikand's voice is low as he continues, "I think you already know what to do, Richard. In a fight for what's right, does your mate come first or your king?"

I thank him and tuck the book under my arm, my mind awash with emotion and focus. I need to talk to Lola.

Now.