IVAN'S POV
Today was my wedding day.
And seeing as it wasn't my first rodeo, I barely felt inclined to care about trivial details like flower arrangements or the dinner menu.
Not when I had far more pressing issues to deal with. Like my mother's health.
She had the pitting sickness.
For years now, she had suffered from relentless weakness and severe bloating across every inch of her skin.
As if that wasn't bad enough, no one had been able to decipher the cause.
But if I had to take a guess, I'd say it had everything to do with my father's death.
Father.
Mauled to death by a pack of rogues while out on a hunt, leaving the alpha throne vacant and vulnerable.
By all rights, I should have ascended immediately. I was his heir.
But I couldn't bloody well do that yet. Not while I remained without an heir of my own.
It seemed Serena had overestimated her abilities as a breeder, considering she had yet to produce one.
At the beginning, I had been patient, hopeful even—practical about the prospect of our arrangement. Now, the mere sight of her pissed me off.
And then, there was Mother.
The pitting sickness had crept in shortly after my father's death, and I had no doubt in my mind that losing her destined mate was what had caused it.
Lydia Cross had always been unbreakable. And yet, here she was. A shell of the woman she once was.
I had never been the type to pay keen attention to my mother's appearance, but even I could tell she was closer to death's door than away from it.
Her decline was rapid, merciless. She had aged twice as much in just the last few months.
In the past year alone, I had traveled across packs and kingdoms, visiting every healer I could find, searching for a cure for the pitting.
Nothing worked.
Nothing.
All I had managed to find was disappointment and the stricken realization that I was running out of time.
At this point, I had lost count of the so-called healers who had breezed through our doors, swearing they could cure her. Each one had been a waste of my time.
And then, I heard about her. A talented healer, here in the city.
I didn't know her name, but she was famous—renowned for her vast knowledge of herbs and orthodox medicine.
She ran a healing practice, and if the rumors were anything to go by, she was the best there was.
I had already sent a messenger to fetch her, extending a formal invitation for her to visit Ash Creek. Now, all that was left was for her to show up. And pray to the Goddess she was the real deal.
In the meantime, I had a wedding to get through. I had half an hour before I had to haul my ass up to the altar.
I spent the free time in my study, staring blankly at the fireplace, idly sipping whiskey. Mostly, I was lost in thought.
The Council of Elders had been a pain in my ass lately. They were the only thing standing between me and my throne—my birthright.
But apparently, I couldn't have that yet. Not until I had an heir.
As if on cue, my phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Serena.
I pursed my lips in annoyance as her name flashed across the screen.
She had already called fifteen minutes ago to whine about how the wedding planner had gotten calla lilies instead of white roses.
Obsessed. That's what she was at this point.
And if I had to hear about one more damn flower placement, I was going to lose it. I picked up the call with a sigh.
"Serena," I greeted flatly. "Is everything okay?"
"Ivan," she breathed heavily, sounding almost giddy. "Are you excited about the wedding?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Did you just call to ask me that?"
She let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, sorry. It's just… a lot is at stake here. I just want everything to go perfectly today. But more than anything, I wish your mother could be there."
"You know she can't," I interrupted, already losing patience. "You're worrying about the wrong thing, Serena. How about you focus on doing your part in all of this?"
Silence. I didn't let it linger.
"Remember," I added coldly, "this is only an arrangement born of necessity and nothing else. You're only important to me if you produce an heir."
She exhaled sharply. "I know."
Her voice was smaller now, her usual confidence fraying at the edges. But in true Serena fashion, she tried to mask it with false cheer.
"I know I haven't been able to give you an heir yet, but this time, I won't let you down."
"I'm glad to hear that." I leaned back in my chair, glancing at the clock. "I'll see you at the wedding."
And with that, I ended the call. I downed the last of my whiskey and put my phone away. I refilled my whiskey glass and took another large gulp.
Serena wouldn't like the fact that I was drinking barely fifteen minutes before our wedding.
Good thing I didn't have to see her until right before the ceremony.
That way, I had some time to get into the right headspace—to pretend I gave a damn about saying the custom mating vows.
For some reason, the thought of exchanging vows with Serena didn't sit right with me.
Lately, nothing about touching her felt right. Sex had become a chore—one I endured at best.
I blamed Maeve Oakes for that. For the insufferable mating bond I still shared with her.
It had been five years since I last saw her. Five years since she snuck away in the middle of the night, leaving everything behind.
At first, I had been in denial, hellbent on erasing her from my mind.
But as time passed, I realized—to my disdain—that I couldn't shake her off, no matter how hard I tried. She was always there. Lingering at the edges of my thoughts.
I wasn't in love with her. Not by any chance.
But I missed her.
I missed the wide-eyed innocence.
I missed the way she wore her heart on her sleeve, always going out of her way to please me, desperate to salvage the fragments of our marriage.
And then, she left.
For the first few months, I had been indifferent. Then, I felt insulted that someone as weak as Maeve Oakes had the balls to leave me.
Enraged, I had sent men all over the kingdom to find her.
But it was like she had disappeared into thin air. Not even a single trace or scent of her was found. It was as if she had never existed.
Which was bullshit—because I could feel her. The bond wouldn't let me forget. Being separated from my destined mate for so long had consequences.
I couldn't get my dick up with anyone else, even if I wanted to. Not even with Serena.
"You suffer from what we werewolves call the wrath bond," Revierre, the High Priest, had told me during my last visit to his temple.
"The wrath bond?" I repeated, trying—and failing—to mask my curiosity.
"It is your wolf's way of longing for its other half."
I scoffed. "You mean Maeve."
Revierre met my gaze with a grave expression. "Have you made any progress in finding her?"
I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "Nothing."
He studied me for a long moment. "Then you need to find her."
I tensed. "Why?"
"If you desire to mate with Serena and produce an heir, then your mating bond must be severed first."
The words hit me harder than I expected.
Breaking the bond should have been the obvious solution. The reasonable thing to do.
But the thought of being completely severed from Maeve Oakes—for good—made my wolf stir uneasily in my chest.
* * *
The wedding ceremony kicked off at noon.
The palace hall was packed with guests who had gathered for the event.
Allies and friends from neighboring packs. Business associates. My pack members.
They had all come to witness my second attempt at forging a bond—one that, if successful, would produce an heir and finally allow me to claim my inheritance.
As priest, Revierre was in charge of conducting the mating rites.
I stood next to Serena, half-drunk, barely registering the formalities as the priest carried on.
Soon, it was time for us to exchange the mating vows. I shook my head, trying to clear some of the alcohol from my system.
My fingers spasmed slightly as I took Serena's hands in mine.
Her eyes shone with delight, her breath hitched in anticipation—waiting for me to seal the deal between us.
I opened my mouth to recite the vows. I knew them by heart.
As the words spilled from my lips, I willed them to mean something. Anything. In the end, they were just that: words.
Then, it was Serena's turn.
She had fucking tears brimming in the corners of her eyes as she recited her vows to me.
I ignored them. Perhaps if I were sober, I'd have forced myself to care.
Revierre gripped our enjoined wrists, holding up the mating ribbon.
His voice rose an octave higher as he spoke the final bonding ritual.
"The mating vows have been exchanged," he declared. "Now, before I take the final step in joining these two together, if anyone objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your—"
The entrance doors burst open. The impact was all too loud and all too sudden.
All heads swiveled toward the doorway. For several seconds, time stood still.
The stranger's entrance sent a ripple of murmurs across the hall. Some members of Ash Creek gasped in shock, rising from their seats to get a better look.
Curious, I turned.
The first thing I saw was a pair of red heels.
Classy. Sexy as hell. Her toned legs? Even sexier.
Slowly, my gaze traveled upward.
She wore a skin-tight black dress that did all sorts of dangerous things to her curves.
With each step she took, her dark curls bounced against her lavish bosom.
I fixated on that bosom.
Instantly, I grew hard.
I hadn't felt this way in years.
My wolf stirred. Rose to the sight of her. I barely remembered the last time I had felt my wolf react to anyone.
Until now.
I must have lost my fucking mind from all the whiskey I had downed before walking to the altar.
It was the only explanation for why I was openly ogling a sexy stranger in front of my bride-to-be.
And yet—I couldn't look away.
She was fucking gorgeous. Breathtaking.
Finally, my gaze lifted and locked with hers.
I froze.
Recognition slammed into me, so violently I almost stumbled back.
I knew those eyes.
Blue. Almost translucent. Immaculate.
I had dreamt about them a thousand times over the last five years.
My pulse thundered in my ears as my mind finally caught up to what I was seeing.
The woman before me was not the timid, wide-eyed girl I once knew.
No—this woman was fierce. Confident. A far cry from the fragile, breakable thing that had once belonged to me.
And yet she was still her.
Maeve.
My heart skipped a beat as I forced my mind to conjure up her name.
Then, she spoke.
"I object to this union." Her voice was sharper than it had ever been. There was no hesitation in her words. No fear. Only unbridled fire.
A slow growl rumbled from my chest as my wolf flared to life.
The murmurs in the room increased by the second. The chaos in the hall was growing, but I couldn't hear a damn thing.
I couldn't take my eyes off her.
It took another moment before I finally noticed the little human standing next to her. Holding her hand.
A child. A boy. No older than five, maybe.
A strange sensation crawled up my spine as I took a closer look at him.
And then it hit me like a freight train.
He looked exactly like me.