Chapter 18 #2
The possibility makes me physically sick. I’ve always been careful about consent, always made sure my partners wanted exactly what I was giving them. But with Astra, the mate bond drove me to distraction. Maybe I misread her signals. Maybe I took what I wanted without considering what she needed.
No. That can’t be right. She has been as insatiable as I am, greedy for my touch, pulling me closer when I try to move away. Just this morning, she was pressed against me like she couldn’t get close enough, responding to my kisses with a hunger that matched my own.
So, why does she disappear into herself the moment we’re not in bed together? Why does she look at me like I’m a stranger whenever we’re fully dressed and standing upright?
I get to my feet abruptly and stride over to the window that overlooks the street below. A few people move through the evening shadows, but my attention lands on a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost.
Seth.
My closest friend pushes off from the post when he sees me in the window, his expression grim even from this distance. The last time I saw him was when he brought me Andrew’s broken body, but that feels like a lifetime ago.
I’m downstairs and out the door before he can approach the building, my wolf suddenly alert to potential threats. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Seth’s voice is flat, serious. None of his usual, easy humor. “Word has gotten back to the Council that you’re neglecting your duties.”
I scoff. “Neglecting my duties? I’ve only been gone a few weeks.”
“Over a month,” he corrects me. “Without a word to your father. Over a month of missed meetings, abandoned negotiations, ignored correspondence.” Seth’s expression darkens. “They’re pressuring the King to strip you of your title and put your cousin Jeddiah in your place.”
The news should concern me. It should send me racing back to the capital to smooth things over, to play the dutiful prince and heir. Instead, I find myself glancing back at the inn, toward the room where Astra is probably sitting in that careful, quiet way she has perfected.
“How is my father handling the pressure?”
“He’s furious with you.” Seth steps closer, lowering his voice. “Lucian, what the hell are you doing? You’re throwing away everything you’ve worked for.”
“I’ll be back in the capital in two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Seth stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “The Council meeting is—”
“In two weeks,” I say firmly. “I’ll be there.”
My friend opens his mouth to argue, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he studies my face with the close attention of someone who has known me since childhood.
“This is about your mate.”
It’s not a question. I start to turn away, but Seth catches my arm. “There’s something else. Lady Zari has heard rumors that you’re traveling with another female.”
I shrug, unconcerned. Zari has been an irritation since her father first suggested a match between us five years ago. She is nothing but the spoiled daughter of a powerful lord who thinks her beauty and connections make her irresistible.
“She’s fuming,” Seth continues. “Making threats about what she’ll do if the rumors are true.”
“Let her fume.”
“Lucian.” Seth’s grip tightens on my arm. “Just because you’ve always seen Zari as harmless and annoying doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. Her father has the King’s ear, and she has resources you may not expect.”
I consider his words. It’s true that I’ve never taken Zari seriously; she’s like a persistent fly that won’t stop buzzing around me, more irksome than threatening. But her father, Lord Vance Tashina, does have significant political influence.
“She’s a spoiled girl who’s never been told ‘no,’” I say finally.
“Spoiled girls who’ve never been told ‘no’ can be the most treacherous of all,” Seth replies grimly.
I glance back at the inn again. The question that has been eating at me for days finally breaks free.
“How do you make up with a woman?”
Seth is stupefied. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?” I give him a narrow-eyed look, and he grins. “Aha. So, our Crown Prince has already managed to estrange his mate. You have a gift, Lucian.”
I stare at him coolly. “You and I haven’t had a one-on-one sparring session in a while.”
My friend winces. “Straight for the jugular.” Clearing his throat, he looks at the inn over my shoulder. “What did you do? Most of the time, it’s the man’s fault. Just apologize.”
“Apologize? Me?” Irritation buzzes through my brain. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You probably did.” Seth gives me a look that says he knows exactly how full of shit I am. “Try buying her gifts, then. Jewelry, flowers—”
“She’s not interested in gifts.” The words come out sounding as bitter as I feel. “I’ve tried everything.”
“Then, woo her,” Seth says simply. “Court her properly. After all, she’s your mate. You’ll win her over eventually.”
I blink at him. “Are you telling me to grovel?”
Seth grins. “Yes.”
“I’m the future king. I don’t grovel.”
“And she should be the future queen.” My friend snickers.
“Fine, don’t grovel. See where that gets you.
But whatever you do, watch your back. The Tashina family has one of the best spy networks in the kingdom.
It rivals the crown’s. If Lord Vance finds out you’re roaming around with a woman, he can easily spread the word.
I think you should return to the capital as soon as possible.
There, you can deal with your mate in private.
Whatever your issues may be, resolve them inside the palace, where you’re safe. ”
I’m aware of how greedy the Tashina family is.
The only reason I agreed to the engagement with Zari was because the Council insisted I either take a mate or give up my position as crown prince.
My father agreed with them, mostly because he’s not ready to step down, and he assumed that, with my violent disposition, I wasn’t going to tolerate any female, especially Zari.
It was sheer stubbornness and a desire to prove him wrong that pushed me to agree to the Council’s terms.
“Don’t worry about me.” I tell Seth. “How’s the investigation into the Umbra Council going?”
Seth looks uneasy. “High Inquisitor Draven has been making some visits to different packs in the North. There have been some rumors of disappearances of young shifters with dual natures within that area, as well.”
My jaw tightens. Dual natures. Shifters who aren’t exactly pureblooded. “Do you have names and backgrounds?”
Seth shakes his head. “Leon is looking into it, but the alphas are closing ranks. They’re giving excuses for the disappearances and claiming they are their own packs’ internal matters.
If we press any further, news could get back to the King, and you’ll be reprimanded for conducting this investigation. ”
That stubborn fool!
My eyes flick toward the upper windows of the inn once again. I need to get home, but in this state of hers, how can I bring Astra to the palace? She’ll be torn to shreds.
I need to fix our relationship first. She needs to love me. She needs to be completely dependent on me emotionally so that she will never leave me.
I have claws marks on my back from her that prove to me her wolf isn’t latent, and I’m sure whatever happened to it has something to do with a witch. Until I figure that part out, I have to make sure she can’t leave me.
Seth departs with a promise to keep me updated and a warning to watch my back. I stand alone on the empty street, his earlier words echoing in my mind.
“Try buying her gifts.”
I’ve tried gifts. The necklace sits untouched in her knapsack alongside the poetry book and the cloak. Everything I choose, she accepts with that hollow “thank you” that makes my teeth ache.
But then I remember something: the bookstore she wandered into while I was buying her clothes. The way her entire body changed when she picked up that gardening book. The pure contentment I felt through our bond—the first real happiness I’d ever sensed from her.
She likes books about herbs. About plants and their medicinal properties.
Of course! She’s an herbalist, but most of the equipment she carries is broken. I’ve seen the cracked mortar, the rusted tools, the makeshift containers she uses to store what little she can gather.
I need to find herbalist supplies.
It takes three shops before I find what I’m looking for. The elderly woman behind the counter brightens when I explain what I need.
“Ah, for a fellow herb enthusiast!” She clasps her hands together. “How wonderful. Let me show you our finest equipment.”
I follow her through the cramped shop, my mind racing. This has to work. This has to be the key to reaching whatever part of Astra is still buried beneath all that careful politeness.
“These are our premium storage jars,” the merchant says, lifting a set of glass containers with tight-fitting lids. “Perfect for preserving dried herbs. See how the glass is slightly tinted? That protects the contents from light damage.”
I nod, though I have no idea what “light damage” means. “I’ll take a full set.”
“Excellent choice. And these”—she moves to another display—“are our grinding mortars. This one is made from volcanic stone, perfect for breaking down tough roots and bark.”
“That one, too.”
Her eyes light up with each purchase. Measuring scales with delicate brass weights. Sharp pruning shears for harvesting. A leather satchel specifically designed with compartments for different tools. Small mesh bags for drying herbs. Labels made from special paper that won’t deteriorate.
“Oh, and this,” she says, practically vibrating with excitement.
“This is our newest piece. A portable herb dryer.” She shows me a wooden contraption with multiple levels of fine mesh.
“It allows for proper air circulation while protecting the herbs from dust and insects. Perfect for someone who travels.”
She quotes the price with an apologetic wince, but I don’t even pause. “I’ll take it.”
By the time I’m finished, I’ve spent more money than most people see in a year. But as I look at the carefully wrapped packages, a good feeling comes over me. These aren’t random gifts chosen to impress her. These are tools. Equipment that will let her practice her craft again.
This is giving Astra back a piece of herself.
I make my way up the stairs in the inn, my arms full of the purchases, when I hear her voice drifting through the thin walls.
I freeze outside her door, my wolf’s hearing picking up every word.
“...just like I expected, Luna.” The despair in her tone makes my heart tighten. “He slept with me, and now he’s done. Got his own room, didn’t he?”
My hands clench around the packages. Is that what she thinks? That I was just using her?
“I always knew this would happen,” she continues, her voice breaking slightly. “I just—I thought maybe if I was good enough, quiet enough, if I didn’t cause any trouble, maybe he’d want to keep me around a little longer.”
The pain in her voice is like a knife between my ribs.
“Was I always this weak, Luna? I can’t even remember who I used to be anymore. I feel so lost.”
The bundles in my arms suddenly feel impossibly heavy. Fury builds inside me—not at her, but at the situation. At Andrew for breaking her. At her pack for making her believe she’s worthless. At myself for not seeing this sooner.
She thinks I don’t want her. She thinks getting separate rooms means I’m rejecting her.
I finally understand; she believes I’m going to leave her now that I’ve slept with her.
An even worse thought occurs to me: her enthusiasm in bed, the desperate way she responds to my touch—is that all her way of trying to get me to stay with her?
Does she think if she pleases me enough, I won’t abandon her?
The possibility that she thinks I would walk away from her after taking her to my bed makes my wolf snarl with possessive fury. But underneath the anger is something else: hope. If she’s this desperate to keep me, does that mean I matter to her?
And then I remember—that morning in our first inn room bed, when she thought I was asleep.
The desperate words she whispered against my neck: “If you’re going to leave me, you should kill me before you do.
I don’t think I’ll be able to survive.” And that broken confession: “I wish you would be cruel to me so that I could hate you.”
The pieces click into place with devastating clarity.
She’s not being compliant because she doesn’t care. She’s being compliant because she thinks if she’s perfect enough, agreeable enough, invisible enough, I won’t abandon her. She thinks her very existence is a burden that I’m barely tolerating.
Astra doesn’t understand that the desperate need to stay by my side, the terror of being left behind—that’s the mate bond. Her wolf might be latent, but it’s still there, still pulling her toward me with an intensity she can’t comprehend.
She thinks she’s weak. She has no idea that what she’s feeling is one of the most powerful forces in our world.
I touch my neck absently, where my own mating mark would be if she were to bite me in return. The bond pulses steadily, a constant reminder of what connects us.
I need to shift strategies completely. I’ve been trying to give her space, trying to let her come to me on her own terms. But she’s interpreting every gesture letting her have her independence as rejection.
She doesn’t need space. She needs to know I want her here. More than that, she needs to feel needed.
A devious thought takes shape in my mind. Of course. It’s so simple I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. If she needs to feel that I need her, then I’ll give her exactly what she wants.
She’s a healer. An herbalist. Someone whose entire identity is built around taking care of others, solving their problems, being useful.
Andrew destroyed her sense of self-worth, made her believe she was nothing but a commodity. But what if I could show her the opposite? What if I could make her feel indispensable?
I need to find Seth.