I stood at attention, my armor glinting under the light of the royal hall. The hum of the court's whispers filled the air, but I barely heard them. My mind was elsewhere — on the man who stood just across the room, surrounded by his pack members like a king in his court.
Mikhael.
The Alpha of the Silver Lightning Pack. His presence was undeniable as if the very air around him held weight. His broad shoulders and chiseled features made him appear as if carved from stone. His dark eyes scanned the crowd lazily like he was above it all. His gaze never lingered on me, and I found that both a relief and a source of deep frustration.
After all, he was my mate.
The knowledge of it gnawed at the edges of my thoughts, always there, always unspoken, but undeniably true. The pull was sharp and yet, he seemed oblivious — or worse, indifferent.
I had always been taught to serve, to follow orders, to keep my emotions in check. I was trained to be a warrior, a protector of the throne, and whoever sits there. My purpose was clear: fight, defend, never question. My worth had always been measured by my strength, my obedience, my loyalty.
But here I was, the warrior destined to serve at the side of the heir to the Silver Lightning Pack, the most powerful werewolf kingdom in the realm — and yet, he barely looked in my direction.
The mate bond had been undeniable the moment our eyes met across the training grounds two months ago. I had felt it, a pull deep within my chest, a tug that forced my heart to race and my breath to hitch. But Mikhael had not reacted. Instead, his cold eyes had dismissed me as though I were just another soldier.
I clenched my fists at my sides. I could not let myself be distracted by this... this inconvenient connection. I had duties to attend to. The royal court was not a place for weakness, and certainly not a place for emotions I had no right to indulge in.
"You are a warrior, Isabelle," my father’s voice echoed in my mind. "The court will not value you for your heart. They will value you for your strength."
I pushed away the memory of his words, though they still hurt. I had always respected my father, and trusted in his wisdom. Yet now, as the undeniable force of the mate bond twisted inside me, I wondered if he had been wrong.
"You’re staring."
I blinked. My hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of my sword as I turned toward the voice.
Ciara, one of the few soldiers I trusted, stood beside me, her eyes narrowing. She was a fellow warrior of the royal guard and one of the few people who could see through the disciplined exterior I wore.
"I’m not staring," I replied, my voice betraying the flicker of emotion I didn’t want to show. "I’m... just watching."
"Watching what?" She raised an eyebrow, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. "The heir to the Silver Lightning Pack? The one who hasn’t spared you a second glance since the day you arrived?"
I stiffened, though her teasing wasn’t new. "It’s not like that."
She chuckled. "It never is. But it should be, shouldn’t it? He’s your mate, Isabelle. The bond is there. The sooner you accept it, the sooner the tension will stop twisting you inside out."
I swallowed, my gaze involuntarily flicking to Mikhael once again. His eyes had shifted, though — this time, they were fixed on me. And though the distance between us was great, I felt as though the ground between us had suddenly grown impossibly small. My heart quickened, the mate bond pulling on me more strongly than ever.
But his expression remained impassive. His gaze was as cold as the mountain winds, distant, uncaring. He didn’t acknowledge the bond. He didn’t acknowledge me.
I tore my gaze away quickly, my chest tight.
"I have duties," I said, more to myself than to Ciara. "I don’t have time for this... distraction."
Ciara sighed. "You can lie to yourself all you want, but we both know it’s not just about duty. It’s about him. And one day, you’ll have to face it."
I clenched my jaw. "I don’t need your pity," I said, the words harsher than I intended. "He doesn’t want me. He’s made that clear."
Ciara didn’t respond, but her knowing look lingered, heavy with unspoken words. After a moment, she spoke again, quieter this time. "You deserve more than to be ignored."
I didn’t have an answer for that. The truth was, I didn’t know what I deserved. I had been raised to serve, to obey, to protect the kingdom at all costs. My life had always been about duty, never about desire. But now... now the bond had introduced a new layer of confusion, one I wasn’t sure how to navigate.
Before I could respond, the sound of a distant bell echoed through the hall, signaling the start of the evening’s gathering. The royal court was about to commence.
I felt a twinge of dread. I knew what would come next.
"Let’s get this over with," I muttered under my breath, turning away from Ciara and heading toward the center of the hall. I kept my shoulders straight, my gaze forward, but in the back of my mind, the tension coiled tighter with every step I took.
And then, as though drawn by some unseen force, I found myself standing before him — Mikhael.
He was no longer surrounded by his pack members, but his presence still filled the room, like a shadow that loomed over everything. He looked down at me with those dark, unreadable eyes, his jaw clenched, his stance still and unwavering.
For a moment, we stood in silence, the weight of the mate bond pressing on my chest, suffocating in its intensity.
Finally, Mikhael spoke, his voice as cold as ever. "Isabelle."
The sound of my name on his lips sent a shiver down my spine, though I fought to hide it. "Alpha," I responded, keeping my voice steady.
He didn’t acknowledge the formal title, nor the bond that thrummed between us.
"The rebellion needs to be dealt with," he said flatly. "You’ll accompany me on the mission."
My heart skipped a beat. I had been anticipating this — the first mission where we would be forced to work together, side by side. I should have felt ready and focused on the task ahead, but instead, all I could think of was the bond, the pull I felt toward him, and the walls he had built around himself.
"You’ll follow my lead," he added, his voice flat, distant. It was as if he was giving an order to a soldier, not a mate.
"Of course," I replied, my voice barely a whisper. I would follow his lead, as I always did. Duty came first.
But as I met his cold gaze, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something between us had already been decided — even if neither of us was ready to accept it.
