Lyla

You'd think not having a wolf is the worst thing that can happen to anyone, a cruel game played by the moon goddess that marks you as different, weak and unwanted … because it is a constant reminder that you're incomplete.

But, have you tried enduring an endless, intense monthly heat cycle - a nightmare that begins when my body betrays me every month, turning me into a walking beacon of arousal–try putting yourself in my shoes every month when my body would scream for a mate that doesn't exist, with a scent so thick and sweet that it makes everyone around me turn their heads in disgust—except the humans who think I look really beautiful.

My monthly heat cycle wasn't just unbearable, it was a curse that earned me a well-deserved title of a 'Wolfless deviant.'

Do you know what is worse? My parents — the very people who should care, protect and guide me—have cut ties with me and they look at me like a stain on their perfect family portrait–a punishment, a defect they can't erase. A deviant they wish they could forget.

So, if you think you're going through the worst of luck … try living with this fire burning brightly inside you: alone, unloved, unwanted and a walking embarrassment. Then maybe, just maybe, I might listen to your complaints.

But until then… My name is Lyla Woodland–the first-born daughter of Alpha Logan Woodland and Luna Vanessa Woodland of Blue Ridge Pack and this is my reality.

Every. Single. Month.

***

I jolt awake, sweating profusely, with the bedsheets tangled around my legs like vines. A familiar fire coursed through my veins, pooling sweetly at the lower part of my abdomen. I felt my woman core clench and release, sending courses of oxytocin all over my body and I knew instantly what was happening…

My heat, again!

I lay there, gasping for breath as frustration and helplessness—emotions I was familiar with teasing at the edge of my already frayed sanity.

"Not again," I muttered, staring up at the ceiling. At only 19, I've suffered 3 years of being abandoned by my family and I should be used to it, but on days like this, I miss them.

Another wave of desire surged through me, making me moan—unable to stop myself.

"No, no, no," I muttered, stumbling out of bed. "Not now, please, not now."

But my body didn't listen, it never does. I stumbled into the bathroom and caught a reflection of myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl staring back at me. Wild, dishevelled hair framed a face with flushed cheeks—a stark contrast to the composed, controlled daughter of an Alpha I was supposed to be.

But this is what I always become during my heat — a creature of want and desire.

"I'm not really a werewolf, am I?" I whispered to my reflection, failing at an attempt to make a joke out of my situation. "Not without my wolf."

"Lyla!" My nanny's voice, sharp and patient, cut through my haze of thoughts. "You'll be late for school. Again."

~~~

The walk to school was torture… every time a man, or a woman, passed me, I would feel a powerful urge to run after the person and demand they touch me inappropriately. By the time I arrived at school, I was a mess.

I soaked my underwear and warm juices flowed down my thighs and into my socks. I could feel eyes on me as I hurried through the corridors. Some humans turned to stare and I know their sudden attraction to the school weirdo confused them.

The few werewolves I passed wrinkled their noses in disgust. They knew what was happening to me.

The walk to my locker felt like a trek to the White Mountains. I could feel my pheromones seeping into the air, the scent of my heat thick and sweet, impossible to mask. I finally reached my locker and tried to remember the classes I had this morning.

When suddenly, someone slammed the door of my locker, almost missing me by a hair's breadth. When I looked up, it was Marissa — my tormentor and her friends. She was a Gamma's daughter, but from another pack.

I ignored her and opened my locker again, but she slammed it back, forcing me to stare at her.

"I thought you'd have the decency to stay home when you're like this. You never learn, do you?" Marissa sneered. "Are you hoping someone will put you out of your misery?" she added with a cruel laugh. "Maybe you think parading around like this would make some poor idiot take pity on you, is that it?"

"I don't want trouble, Marissa," I mumbled, my gaze fixed on the ground, my cheeks burning with humiliation. "I just want to get through today's test and be on my way home."

"And have us endure the entire day soaking in this nasty smell of yours? Who do you think you are, Lyla?" she came closer to me, her eyes flashing with anger. "Have you forgotten who calls the shots in this school?"

I didn't answer her. I grabbed a random textbook from my locker, closed the door and started walking away, quickening my pace, but the snickering followed me, growing louder as I tried to escape.

I finally made it to the end of the hallway and had successfully opened the door when, without warning, a cold splash hit me from above.

Someone had hung a bucket of ice on the door. I gasped as icy water and ice drenched me. Behind me, the hallway erupted into laughter as everyone brought out their phones filming. I whipped around to see Marissa and her minions standing in a corner with satisfied smiles on their faces.

"What?" Marisa shrugged, feigning innocence. "I thought you might need cooling off… a lot is going on within you, right?"

I stood there, dripping wet and mortified. The heat inside me clashed violently with the chill of the water, my clothes sticking to my skin. My vision blurred with tears. I refused to let fall. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but all I could do was stand there, frozen in place, wishing I could disappear.

Marissa came to me again, her nose wrinkling with disgust. "I thought all that ice would drown out your stupid scent… but I was wrong. Perhaps what you need is the strong scent of coffee."

"What did I ever do to you?" my teeth chattered as I asked.

"Existing, Lyla," she responded with a smirk. "You never should have been born."

Then collected a cup of sizzling, hot coffee from one of her friends, and removed the cover. I cringed, taking a step back…I wasn't like other wolves. I didn't heal fast. If I allowed her to pour the hot coffee on me, I'd scald and get burns.

She backed me to the wall, her eyes filled with amusement. Just as she raised her hands to empty the liquid on me, a hand reached out and snatched the cup away from her.

The laughter had died down and the air in the hallway seemed tense. When I looked up, my heart pounded as my father, Alpha Logan Woodland, came into view. He snatched the cup from Marissa and threw it inside the recycling bin.

Marissa turned, her bravado faltering when she saw him. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she snapped. She hadn't expected anyone to intervene, much less someone like him. "What's it to you?"

My father growled, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "I'm her father, and I won't tolerate anyone treating my daughter like this."

The other students backed away, fear flickering in their eyes, including Marissa, whose eyes widened with surprise.

"Touch her again and I promise you, there'll be consequences," my dad warned, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "I don't care who your parents are or what pack you belong to. This ends now!"

For a moment, gratitude surged through my heart, and I clung to it. This was the first time in three years I had seen him.

"Dad!" I said tentatively. "What are you doing here?"

My father whipped around; his brows drawn in disgust. "You're a disgrace," he said bluntly. "This–" he gestured to my dishevelled appearance and the lingering scent of my heat "–this is exactly why you're an embarrassment to this family. You're so weak that you cannot stand up for yourself."

I flinched, his words cutting deeper than the taunts of my classmates. Didn't he come here to save me? "I didn't ask for this," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I didn't choose to be like this."

"I guess the feeling is mutual," he hissed. "I wish I never had a daughter like you."

The crowd had dispersed now, at least the humans had—just a few werewolves, lingered. My father tossed a white envelope at me, his gaze narrowed in disappointment.

"Tonight is the annual Werewolf Pairing Gala and you will attend," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Invitation came from the Lycan Leader himself and since your sister isn't of age, you will represent us. You will behave yourself, keep your head down, and try not to embarrass me further."

"Tonight? I whispered. "Please, Dad. I can't, not like this."

"Then should we disobey the Lycan Leader because of you?" he snapped. "Prepare yourself. We leave in two hours."

...

LylaI stood at the foot of the grand stone steps, my heart hammering against my ribs. The Packhouse loomed over me like a fortress, its cold walls whispering memories of a life I had been cast off from.

I couldn't believe three years had passed since that fateful night when my parents had sent me away at midnight. I had felt like a thief, banished without explanation or warning and nothing but a thousand dollars, clutching a single bag that was my clothes, forcing me to vow never to return.

But now I was back. I swallowed the knot in my throat, steeling myself. I didn't want to come, but my father's command was not a request. The annual werewolf gala was tonight, and I was to attend. I had no choice.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy oak door, and the rush of familiar scents filled my lungs, bringing with it a flood of painful and good childhood memories.

I had barely closed the door when my mother's voice reached me.

"You're late," she hissed, her eyes narrowing as she took in my appearance. Her sharp eyes flicked over me as if inspecting something unpleasant on the bottom of her shoe. Beside her, my sister, Clarissa, gazed at me with a look that was somewhere between pity and disdain.

"I see you still haven't learned to control yourself during your heat," Clarissa scoffed. "Father, it's not a good idea for her to go like this. She reeks…".

"You think if we had a choice, I would have driven four hours to get her," my father hissed. "The invitation had stated that every family must send a representative that is 18 and above and ripe for mating. I had no choice. She was never an option, to begin with."

I flinched. "I'm sorry," I began, but my mother cut me off with a sharp gesture.

"Save it," she snapped. "We've been doing so well without you, and we want it to remain that way. Just remember, you're here because we had no other choice. Don't disgrace us today. If you cause a scene, or so much as draw unwanted attention… we will remove your name from the family register and disown you. Do you understand?"

I wanted to tell them that none of this was my fault, but I nodded instead. My throat was too tight to speak. The last remnants of any affection my family had for me had vanished a long time ago, buried under shame and disgust. I had never been enough for them, not without a wolf, not with the monthly humiliation of my uncontrolled heat cycles.

"I understand," I whispered.

"Good," my mom said coldly. "Clarissa will lend you something from her wardrobe. You should fix that stupid hair of yours as well..." She turned to my sister and added. "Give her one of your wigs, too. It's enough that she's emitting pheromones. Showing up with two giant silver streaks in her hair will make everyone think we adopted her."

"Okay, Mom," Clarissa nodded and indicated that I follow her.

I bit my tongue, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes but refusing to let them fall. I followed Clarissa, my hands trembling as we went.

An hour later, one of the pack warriors dropped me off in front of the grand ballroom. My father had been too embarrassed to do it.

I smoothed my dress and headed towards the ballroom. The sound of laughter, music and clinking glasses grew louder with every step. The scent of power, strength and pure werewolf dominance filled the air as I reached the entrance and the moment I stepped inside, I felt it — the weight of hundreds of eyes turning in my direction.

I felt like a lamb among wolves.

I could feel the heat crawling up my neck, my cheeks flushing against my will. My body betrayed me again and my pheromones spilled into the air, announcing my presence like a siren's call. I heard the whispers before I saw the faces.

"What's that smell?" everyone turned, their noses wrinkled in disgust.

"Is she… in heat?"

"No control at all. Disgusting? She should be locked up and not here. Or is she trying to snag a mate with those smelly pheromones?"

My fingers dug into my palms, my nails biting into my skin as I willed myself to remain calm. If I just ignore them… everything will be fine.

But then, a sharp voice cut through the murmurs and I saw Cassidy Thorne step forward, a mocking smile on her perfect lips.

"I didn't realize they let mutts attend this year," Cassidy drawled loud enough for everyone to hear. Cassidy Thorne—was the epitome of Lycan and werewolf beauty and elegance. Everyone dreamed their daughters would be like her… there was a time when I wanted to be her so badly. "I suppose they'll let anyone in these days."

Laughter rippled through the crowd, and I felt my composure crumbling. Murmuring an apology, I forced myself to look away and moved to a quiet corner of the room, my hands shaking. I hated how powerless I felt, how my body betrayed me every month, turning me into a joke among the very people with whom I should by birthright associate.

I pressed my back against the wall, trying to steady my breathing and fight back tears, when I felt a strange prickling sensation at the back of my neck. Something from across the room caught my eye.

Across the room, a man stood alone, dressed in black from head to toe, melting perfectly with the shadows.

His gaze was fixed on me.

He had amber eyes that were sharp and piercing, like molten gold. He was devastatingly handsome, with chiselled features and an air of quiet strength…but more than that, there was something in his gaze that I couldn't place.

For a moment, the noise of the ballroom faded and all I could see was him. There was something about his eyes that held me captive — curiosity and …something more... My heartbeat quickened, not out of fear, but out of an unfamiliar longing.

Who was he?

Before I could dwell on it, a shadow fell over me.

I turned to see a young Alpha, Darius, standing in front of me, his lips twisted into a sly grin. He has taunted me since I was a child and was the first person to spread my wolfless situation when we were 16. All this was because I had rejected the offer to be his girlfriend when we were 12. He still bore malice against me.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Woodland disgrace," Darius sneered. He was with a group of friends, all dressed impeccably, with eyes gleaming maliciously. "What's the matter, Lyla? Couldn't find a better place to hide?"

My throat tightened, and I tried to edge away, but Darius moved closer, blocking my path. His friends closed in on me too, forming a circle around me, all of them wearing identical smirks.

"I see you're having a little–heat problem," Darius continued, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Maybe we could help you with that, hmm?"

My pulse raced with fear. I knew that look in his eyes. I tried to step back, but Darius grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh.

"Please," I whispered, "Just leave me alone."

Darius laughed and held my chin. "I see someone is getting feisty here. Have you forgotten your place? How dare a deviant like you speak in my presence!"

"Get off me!" I shouted, my voice trembling with both anger and fear. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with his musky scent. It made me nauseous.

"You know," he said, reaching to twirl a strand of my hair around his finger. "Some might find your condition—intriguing. All that heat, with no way to satisfy it. I bet you're just dying for someone to help you out, aren't you?"

"Don't touch me," I shrieked, looking around desperately, but no one was coming to my aid.

His hand moved from my hair to my waist, and I felt panic rising in my chest.

I tried to pull away, but I leaned into his touch, biting off a moan. My body wanted this… I wished he could run his hands up and down my engorged nips peeking from my dress already…

"Don't act like you don't want it," he whispered. "I can smell it on you."

His hand covered my bosom, roughly squeezing it, drawing another illicit moan from me.

"Please," I breathed, barely able to keep my voice steady. "Let me go."

Darius's grin widened, but before he could say another word, a low dangerous growl cut through the air, freezing everyone in place.

...

Lyla

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.

...

Earlier that evening…

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…