Lucas's POV
Theresa sat stiffly on the edge of the mat, her lip trembling as she sniffled, tears clinging stubbornly to her lashes. The sight irritated me more than it stirred any pity. Why was she crying like she had been chosen by the gods themselves, like she was some fated mate I should cherish? Did she not realize I didn't care about her?
This wasn't love. This wasn't fate. This was politics and pack law. The elders had decided for me because I hadn't claimed a mate the "natural" way through pheromone recognition. They called it tradition, duty. I called it a farce.
"Lie on the mat," I ordered, my tone flat, stripped of warmth. She obeyed, lowering herself like a sacrificial lamb.
I stripped off my clothes with mechanical detachment. This wasn't meant to be tender or passionate. It was an obligation, a ritual forced on every Alpha who reached my age without finding his bond. If I mounted her, if I bit her neck, she would be my Luna by law. That was all.
No intimacy. No meaning. Only function.
I loomed over her, summoning the part of me that had never failed the wolf within. My fangs pushed against my gums, aching to emerge. I swept her hair aside to expose the soft curve of her neck, prepared to sink into her flesh and seal the bond.
But nothing happened.
A jarring stillness overtook me. My wolf, usually so close to the surface, refused me. He wouldn't come forward. My claws didn't extend, my fangs remained dull.
What the hell?
Panic coiled in my gut. I willed him again, ordered him to rise, to claim her. He resisted. No he outright refused.
This couldn't be happening. I was the Alpha of Silver Crest. Men bowed before me. Women trembled beneath my gaze. And yet here I was, kneeling over Theresa like some pathetic boy who couldn't even summon his wolf.
She turned her head, eyes fluttering shut in expectation of the mark. I froze, shame scorching through me. My pride, my dominance it all cracked under the weight of that single failure.
"Leave!" I bellowed, my voice sharp as a whip.
She flinched, confusion clouding her face. My tone masked the chagrin that ate at me inside. I couldn't let her see. I couldn't let anyone see. So I played the part of the disdainful Alpha, snarling, feigning disgust.
"My wolf rejects you," I spat. "Your stench, your pathetic pheromones drive him away. Did you think you could tempt me?"
Her eyes filled with tears, wide and wet. "What? Lucas… what did I do wrong?"
Her pandering grated on me, made me want to shove her out into the cold night. Couldn't she understand? Couldn't she see this had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me?
"Alpha, please," she whimpered. "I'll do anything." She knew what it meant for her, she would be labeled mateless and would be treated with scorn from the entire park because they would always choose to believe their alpha
She shifted, desperate, her trembling hand reaching between us. Her fingers brushed against my cock, soft and tentative, then her lips parted as if she meant to take me into her mouth.
Revulsion surged through me.
I shoved her back with a snarl before she could even touch me properly. The idea of her mouth on me of forcing my body into something so false made my stomach twist.
And worse there had been nothing to tempt in the first place.
I realized with a sick jolt that I wasn't even aroused. Not one flicker of heat stirred in me. Not for her.
Had I suddenly become … impotent?
The thought was poison.
No. Impossible. I was Alpha. I was strength embodied, dominance incarnate. I could break men with a word, silence a room with a glance. Impotence was weakness, and weakness had no place in me.
But the evidence was undeniable. Naked, straddling a willing female, and I felt… nothing.
Nothing, except the gnawing awareness of who I did want.
Eliza.