The Lycan King's Fated Mate

Chapter 4 - Mate

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Eli

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A Few Minutes Earlier

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I adjust my snow jacket, checking to make sure my straps are secured while eyeing myself in the mirror. The higher-ups decided we would do introductions in the morning, and we only met briefly to get our schedules.

They said normally we would have met the other teams tonight, but because of unforeseen circumstances, our bosses, who are also attending this event, couldn’t make it on time.

Some of my colleagues went to the bar, but Darnel and I want to go hit the slopes. He doesn’t drink so he had no interest in going to the bar. I drink, but I don’t care much for it, especially since I never get drunk anyway.

My dad says there are special breweries just for us wolves, and they had them back at Elderhaven, but I’ve yet to come across one of those. Satisfied, I grab my beanie and catch my reflection one last time, but just as I’m about to put it on, my phone rings. Malia’s name glows on the display, and a smile tugs at my lips.

“Hey, babe,” I greet her with an echo of excitement in my tone, and she asks me what I’m up to. “Just gearing up for a night on the slopes. What about you?” Her response is a contented sigh, saying she’s ready to call it a night. “Don’t let me keep you from your skiing adventure.” She adds, but I tell her I’m not in a rush. I’m never in too much of a rush for her. She knows that.

But she yawns, saying she knows, but she’s also tired. She asks if we met the other teams and I tell her we are meeting them in the morning and why. We chat for a little after that before she bids me a good evening. “I love you,” I remind her, and she says she loves me too. We end the call while my wolf remains dead silent in my head.

It’s always like this when I’m speaking to Malia. He doesn’t indulge. He likes her, but he believes in this mate business like my dad. We’ve spoken about it before and agreed to disagree. As long as we don’t force each other to do anything we don’t want to do, we are cool.

My mind wanders to Darnel as I end the call with Malia and I decide to call him and tell him I’m waiting on him. But, as if on cue, the door to my hotel room bursts open, and he comes barreling inside. His eyes are wide, his breath coming in rapid bursts, and confusion clouds my expression as I look at him, my phone still warm in my hand.

“What are you doing?” I begin, but he cuts me off with a sense of urgency.

“There’s someone you need to see,” he declares. “Come with me right now.” He continues, and I blink, baffled by the abrupt instruction.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, not moving, but he grabs my arm.

“There’s no time to explain. He’s the one with the blond hair.”

“Blond hair? What blond hair? Who are you talking about?” I ask again, even more confused, as we rush out of the door and run down the corridor, but he doesn’t reply. “Blond hair,” I mutter again to myself and just then, it clicks. He said he saw me with blond hair earlier. This must be what he's talking about.

We burst into the lobby, and Darnel’s finger points sharply to the left. “There he is. This is the guy I saw earlier,” he whispers urgently, and I follow his gaze, expecting just another stranger.

However, as my eyes land on the figure in the white ski suit, time seems to freeze. A shiver runs down my spine, and I feel my wolf stirring within me. It’s a man, roughly my age, and Orpheus’s shock of recognition ripples through me like an electric jolt as the guy looks our way. He is my exact copy.

My breath catches as I take in the surreal scene unfolding before me. The stranger, my doppelgänger, stands talking with two guys in identical ski suits. Same height, same build—everything about him mirrors me, except for the color of his hair. “Who is he?” I whisper to Darnel, an unsettling wave washing through my body. But it’s not Darnel’s voice that replies; it’s Orpheus.

“Our blood," he whispers as the scent in the air confirms it and I can feel the undeniable connection while my wolf resonates with recognition.

A brother? But how is this possible? Darnel next to me says something, but I don’t hear it, all my senses consumed by the unfathomable feeling of possibly having family I never knew about.

I take slow steps towards him, seeing him and the people he’s chatting with grab their gear and head out. I want to call out to him to ask him to wait, but for some reason, I can’t seem to find my voice.

I get to the exit and just as the door slides open, it hits me—a scent, so sweet and alluring floods my nostrils and freezes me in my spot—the intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla, woven with the freshness of morning dew, arresting my steps.

In that moment, I feel as if a veil lifts in my soul and Orpheus stirs restlessly, his anticipation resonating through my being. Before I can comprehend what’s happening, he unleashes the loudest howl in my head. A primal declaration that vibrates through my consciousness and the world around me blurs as he takes over, shoving me to the back of my mind.

My head snaps toward the scent as this overwhelming need, a longing, overtakes me, and Orpheus and I push past people in a desperate pursuit. There’s no need for explanation, as we both burn with an unexplainable yearning for the person emitting this alluring fragrance. We both know we’ve found our mate.

The lobby is crowded and the urge to use our werewolf speed and expose ourselves claws at us as we continue our relentless pursuit, realizing that the scent is moving further away with each passing moment.

Finally, breaking free from the crowd, we enter the corridor, a glimmer of hope fueling our steps. But just then, as quickly as the scent came, it vanishes into thin air, making us halt our steps. Confusion knits our brows, and we stand rooted, scanning the surroundings for any trace of the elusive fragrance while my eyes blink rapidly, feeling the mate pull lift.

“Where did she go?” Orpheus asks, his voice echoing in my mind as he continues to guide us down the corridor. There’s nothing—no sign of our mate, no lingering scent to follow. It’s as if she was never there.

We glance around, our senses heightened, as we search for any clue that might lead us to her. But the corridor remains empty, except for three stoic-looking men stationed as if guarding a door to one suite.

Fueled by desperation, I approach the men, uncertainty tugging at my words. “Excuse me, have you—” I start to ask, but the words catch in my throat, realizing I don’t even know what to ask for. I didn’t see what she looked like; all I had was the scent—the scent that mysteriously disappeared.

What the hell just happened?

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Clio

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The golden hues of the setting sun paint the sky, casting a warm glow over the luxury resort as Dame and I return from our walk by the beach, the white sands reflecting the tranquil beauty of the sea.

Everything about this place is breathtaking. When Dame told me he was taking me on a weekend away, he kept the destination a surprise and when we got here, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I’ve heard about this place and always wanted to come but the prices were too steep. So, I told myself that I would have to save first before I could ever spoil myself with this. But it turned out Dame was listening to me all those times I’d be gushing over it when seeing it in magazines or commercials.

The Sylvan Serenity Retreat is a haven of luxury nestled in the heart of nature’s embrace. This exclusive resort is a blend of luxury and tranquility. As you enter the retreat, a lush canopy of trees that immediately transports you away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life welcomes you.

The exclusive resort comprises individual cabins, and each cabin is discreetly positioned between vibrant greenery, creating an intimate sanctuary that harmonizes with the natural landscape.

The interiors are thoughtfully designed with a touch of modern luxury that complements the rustic charm of the outdoors, and they are cozy, which I prefer any day. There’s also so much to do. Dame and I didn’t even know where to start. But because it’s late, we decided to start with a stroll along the white-sand beach.

As we approach our cabin, I catch a glimpse of flickering candlelight through the open door, and I frown, realizing the lights seem to be dimmed as well, and that’s not how we left everything.

I put on the lights myself, so I know they weren’t dimmed and there were definitely no lit candles. I ask Dame if he notices anything different, suddenly doubting if we are at the right cabin, but he doesn’t seem worried and shows me the number, which confirms we are at the right one.

He opens the door, and my eyes widen, feasting on an intimate dinner setting for two inside. A finely dressed table stands at the center of the room while candlelight dances in crystal holders, bathing the surroundings in a soft, warm glow.

“My lady,” Dame says, snapping me out of the trance as he holds the chair for me. I take my seat, telling him the place is beautiful before asking when he organized this. He says he had someone do it while we were out, adding that he wants to make the most of our time together. I tell him again that I love it and that it’s beautiful to which he grins, saying he’s glad I like it while taking my hand and laying a kiss atop it.

Just then, a man dressed in a chef uniform appears and introduces himself with a warm smile, detailing the menu he has curated for our evening. Again, I’m amazed since we arrived here so late.

The aroma of the exquisite dishes wafts through the air, teasing our senses and heightening the anticipation, and Dame thanks the chef as he pours us some wine. When he’s done, he tells us to enjoy and leaves us to our dinner.

Dame holds his glass and I do the same with mine as he toasts to us finally making it to our much-needed get away and a flicker of guilt tightens my chest, knowing I’m the reason he’s longed for this for so long and is only able to finally make it now.

We dig into our food while the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks complete this romantic setting. My mind wanders back to my brother, wondering how the trip is going as we eat in comfortable silence.

I spoke to him about thirty minutes ago. I had to dash to the restroom quickly, and I texted him while I was in there, seeing that he had responded to a snap of the place that I had sent him.

As I set my glass down after taking a sip, I catch Dame looking at me with the beautiful smile that once made my heart melt, and I return the smile, feeling that flicker of guilt again. I love this place and I’m happy to be here, but I don’t feel the magic yet. I don’t feel like I’m going to leave here feeling any different than I felt when I arrived and it makes me sad because I can see how desperate he is.

His voice snaps me out of my reverie as he starts speaking again and we fall into conversation, continuing with our dinner.

But suddenly, a strange unease tightens my stomach as if being squeezed by an invisible hand—a sensation I can’t quite place. My hands instinctively fly to my belly, seeking comfort, but the pain persists—a subtle but persistent undercurrent of discomfort.

“Are you okay?” Dame asks, his face creasing in concern and I tell him I’m fine, sure whatever it is will go away again. I try to push it aside and get back to the conversation, unwilling to let it ruin our dinner. Dame has been looking forward to this for weeks. Getting sick would be the worst thing right now.

I press my hand firmly against my stomach, as if physically willing the unease to subside, and for a moment, it seems to work. The pain recedes like a fleeting shadow, but before I can breathe a sigh of relief, it returns with a vengeance. Dame notices and passes me some water while asking again if I’m sure I’m okay, and I force a smile, attempting to reassure him.

“It’s nothing, really. Probably just a passing discomfort.”

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Athena

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Now

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The room feels suffocating as I spray myself over and over with the special perfume in a desperate attempt to erase the close call from my mind. My hands shake, and I curse my own recklessness. I should have put on the perfume before, but the slip nearly cost me everything. If our eyes had met, it would have been over.

“I think it’s enough now,” Anastacia says, and I plop on the bed, still shaking. She makes her way over and settles next to me and I feel her hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles.

“It’s over, Athena. You got away,” she says, her voice that's usually a calming reassurance, failing for the first time. My nerves are too frazzled, and I replay the terrifying scenario in my mind. I came dangerously close to undoing everything. Just a brief lock of our gazes and his wolf would have overpowered mine and formed the bond and who knows if I would have been able to reject him after that?

The very idea sends shivers down my spine and I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Did you take the picture?” I finally manage to find my words and Anastacia nods, reaching for her phone.

She shows me his photo and I stare at the image, a swirl of this indescribable emotion churning in the pit of my stomach. Who is he? I don’t even recognize him from any kingdom, and I almost know all the princes.

By the Gods' grace, I spotted him after catching his scent and I instructed my guards to sweep me away as it dawned on me right then when I saw him frozen in place that I forgot to put on the perfume.

I asked Anastacia to take a picture of him as my guards hurriedly led me away. He wasn’t hard to find as he rudely pushed past people, desperately coming after me.

“Give this to Damien," I instruct Anastacia to give the phone to my head guard standing outside the door, handing her phone back to her and she nods.

"What's the instruction?”

“I had already discussed it with him. Just show him the photo. He knows what to do.”