Maximus – POV
The moon was high, and the wind was right.
I shifted into my lycan just as the first howl left the throat of my beta, Lucien. His white pelt glinted like snow between the trees as he bounded ahead, following the trail of a herd of shadow elk we'd tracked across the far borders.
The hunt was never really about food.
Not for Lycans.
It was instinct. Control. A way to let our wolves run wild before court duties tried to cage them again.
And tonight, I needed the run.
War was brewing in the north, my advisors whispered like frightened pups. Council politics were growing tense. And every day I sat on the throne of the Royal Pack, I could feel the weight of my father's legacy pressing deeper into my shoulders.
Out here, though? There were no politics. No treaties. No bloodlines to protect.
Just the forest. The moon. The power humming in my veins.
And the silence of the stars.
Lucien barked in the distance as he gave chase to a buck, but I slowed, nostrils twitching.
There. A scent.
Not elk. Not deer. Something else.
"Maximus?" Lucien's voice echoed faintly through the pack bond. "You still with me?"
I didn't answer.
Because my lycan —Caelum—had gone still inside me.
Then came the voice I trusted more than any general or elder.
"Stop."
He growled low. Focused. Reverent.
"Do you smell that?"
I did.
It wasn't just pleasant—it was transcendent.
Wild honey. Rain-drenched roses. Moonlight and something older. Something divine. It wrapped around my senses like a silken chain.
I shifted back into human form and stood still beneath the trees, eyes closed, breathing it in.
The scent tugged at me, drawing me away from the hunting trail, farther from Lucien, deeper into the wild stretch of woods few dared to walk.
The borderlands.
The forest darkened as I followed the trail, the canopy thick above me. A river murmured nearby, its sound growing louder.
And then I saw her.
At first, I thought it was moonlight dancing on water.
But no—this was a body.
A wolf.
Lying still at the edge of the river, her fur so silver it seemed to glow. As if the moon herself had woven her from stardust.
She was breathing—barely. Her sides rose and fell with quiet effort. Mud clung to her legs. Blood matted part of her flank, but no fresh wound bled.
I approached slowly, not wanting to startle her, even in this state.
But my lycan surged forward in my chest, growling with recognition.
"Ours."
He sounded different. Almost reverent.
I crouched beside her and reached out a hand, my fingers brushing against her fur.
Warm.
The scent hit me fully now, unobstructed.
And in that moment… nothing else mattered.
Not the crown. Not the laws. Not what pack she came from. Not who she used to be.
Because the bond—the mate bond—slammed into me like a storm, rooting itself into every corner of my soul.
I'd never believed in destined mates. Not truly.
I believed in alliances. In power. In choices.
But this?
This wasn't choice.
It was fate.
I looked down at the silver she-wolf who had just collapsed into my world without warning.
Her chest rose once more, a soft whimper escaping her throat.
And I whispered the word that would change everything:
"Mate."