Kyren's POV
*****
His eyes opened, his mind reeling as he stood in the middle of the barren battlefield, ash clinging to his black armour.
He felt it again.
His mate. He could feel his pain. His distress. Every fragile emotion made him all the more intriguing.
Each pull of the bond, each flicker, made him curious and mildly annoyed. The mate bond was becoming a distraction and he never imagined he would ever get a mate.
Talk less of one within the Lunarian Empire.
The sky was painted with red ember, smoke billowing to its furthest reaches. This was the Dark Lands, a large piece of land that bordered Lunaria and Arcadia, the kingdom of the witches.
No plant grew in the Dark Lands. No spirit lingered. Not even the dead found peace here.
The distant sound of his soldiers barking orders through the smoke and ash made the Rogue King draw in a deep breath before he placed his arms behind himself in anticipation.
"Sir, we've killed every last one of the witches." His commander, Farrell, a fellow rogue wolf wearing sleek black armour with a small cut mark on his right eye, announced.
Other rogue soldiers walked forward from that direction, holding their long-barreled rifles and chattering.
The rogue king nodded. "Good. Arcadia would think twice before sending their scouts to come take our lands next time. The dark lands have always belonged to us rogues."
He turned away from his commander, the wind picking up and blowing his white hair back like writhing threads of smoke. But then...
"Sir. Are you okay?"Farrell asked.
The rogue king paused in his tracks, looking over his shoulder for a few seconds. "Shouldn't I be okay, Farrell? Or is there something I'm missing?"
His commander hesitated, looking away briefly before clearing his throat. "N–No, my Lord. It's just... You've seemed so distant since we touched down in these parts. I was wondering—"
"Absolutely nothing to wonder about, Farrell." Kyren sniggered, shaking his head and continuing with his advancement.
A sleek black aircraft slowly landed in front of him, the back panel having an open entrance that revealed blue light pouring out from the inside.
Just when he was about to step into the aircraft, he remembered something. A flash of memory.
The one who should be his mate had been in this harsh battlefield. Perhaps, not with his physical form... But his consciousness had managed to slip into the dark lands, drawn by the pull of the bond.
"I need a drink or two..." Kyren remarked to himself as he walked into the aircraft.
.
.
The rogue king's palace was a monument that stood at the highest peak of the dark lands.
It was etched into the black stones of the furthest part of a mountain, looming over the land below like a giant of eternal judgement.
The sky bled crimson, clouds coiling as if the heavens themselves were preparing to strike.
But inside the palace... A party was being held.
Laughter, cheers, dancing and music echoed in the main hall of the palace where Kyren's solid obsidian throne stood at the far end.
He watched over his subjects within the dimly lit hall, drumming his fingers on the armrest.
A group of men and women, rogue wolves, danced in front of him, wearing clothing that revealed their sensual waists and fluid movements while also hiding behind masks.
Kyren watched this with a stoic expression, although his eyes flickered with boredom.
Suddenly, the singing and dancing ceased and his commander stepped forward, raising his golden goblet for a toast.
"Attention everyone! I would like to make a toast to our king... Kyren Nochthane. Whose reign has brought a continuous era of peace to the dark lands."
Kyren also held a golden goblet decorated with crystals but his fingers gripped it with complete impatience.
Something was wrong.
Each pulse of the mate bond made him seem like he was on a path to insanity. And for some reason, it was an addictive feeling. He longed for more and his wolf howled at the thought.
"For centuries, the dark lands have been the haven of us rogues. Outcasts who the Lunarian empire cast out for one reason or another." The commander continued solemnly. "Yet, we've lived through it all and—"
Kyren's eyes glinted with a vague red light, allowing him to easily slip into his commander's mind. Once he had access, he whispered something telepathically.
'Drop it. I wish to retire to my chambers.'
The commander parted his lips, his goblet still raised to the air. People attending the party glanced at each other with confusion, some of them murmuring judgmentally.
Eventually, the commander cleared his throat. "Pardon. Tonight, we don't come together to celebrate victory over a conflict with Arcadia. But we celebrate another night of freedom."
The people cheered as the music went back into full swing.
Kyren watched them with complete disinterest, rising from his throne slowly. He descended the platforms which led to his throne, giving his commander one look before he found his way out of the hall.
Once he got to his chambers at the top of the palace, Kyren flicked his wrist, causing the upper part of his armour to disconnect from his body, leaving him bare-chested.
Several glowing red runes were etched on his upper body like tattoos, some coiling like snakes.
Kyren walked through his dark chamber and headed to the balcony where he stood silently, placing his hands on the solid stone railing.
His gaze scanned the ground below — looking past the stone and high glass buildings and the people walking around.
His people.
Known as "rogues" to those who reside outside the dark lands.
As the cool evening breeze blew on his skin and his gaze slowly went to the red sky, which was growing even thicker with dark clouds, Kyren drew in a breath.
"I wonder what you're up to that has me so riled up." He muttered, a small smirk curling up his lips as he tugged at the strings of the mate bond.
"When the time is right... I will get my hands on you..."