23. Nikolai
My wolf is pacing a frantic circle in the back of my mind, his claws digging into my psyche.
“Come on already. Let’s go see her.” he whines for the thousandth time today.
“Shut up,” I mutter under my breath.
A sharp knock at my door breaks my concentration.
I open it to find Magnus. He looks like a different man than the ragged, desperate Beta who was groveling in the courtyard just a couple weeks ago.
He’s groomed, his posture is upright, and there’s a steady, calm light in his eyes that I haven’t seen in years.
“Ready?” I ask, checking my watch.
Magnus grins, a rare, genuine expression of joy. “Fuck yeah.”
I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips as we walk toward the elevators. “You look like a pup on his first hunt, Magnus. Have you marked her yet? Or are you still playing the gentleman?”
Magnus flushes slightly, but he doesn’t look away. “Not yet. I’m planning to, soon. I want to make it special for her, Nik. She’s been through enough. I don’t want it to be a frantic claim in a hallway. I want her to know she’s home.”
I nod, a pang of something jagged and bitter twisting in my gut.
I think about my room two days ago. I think about the way Casandra’s skin felt under my hands—like heated silk and frozen starlight.
My wolf had been screaming, a deafening, primal roar for me to sink my teeth into the junction of her neck and shoulder.
While my fingers were inside her, feeling the frantic pulse of her pleasure, every instinct I possessed was begging me to claim her.
To mark her so deeply that the scent of my soul would be etched into her DNA.
I almost did it.
“Good for you,” I say, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears.
As we reach the fifth floor, my heart begins a slow, heavy thud against my ribs. I’m hoping she’s there. I’m craving the sight of her like a man dying of thirst craves water. I need to see her face, even if she looks at me with that cold, dead disdain I deserve.
We reach the door, and the scent hits me.
The forest after rain. It’s intoxicating, swirling through the cracks in the doorframe, but it’s... thin. Distant.
Ilinca opens the door, and Magnus is on her in a heartbeat. He doesn’t wait for an invitation; he gathers her into his arms, burying his face in her neck with a low, possessive rumble. She melts against him, her eyes closing in relief.
I step inside, my eyes immediately darting to the hallway, the kitchen, the balcony.
Empty.
The apartment is beautiful, filled with the scent of Ilinca’s baking and the faint, lingering trail of Casandra, but the woman herself is gone. The disappointment is a physical weight in my chest.
“Prince Nikolai,” Ilinca says, gently disentangling herself from Magnus, though he keeps a firm arm around her waist. “Please, sit. Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine, Ilinca,” I say, taking a seat on the couch. I try to keep my face a mask of royal indifference. “We’re here for business.”
We spend the next hour discussing the logistics of her integration. It’s a formal process, but we keep it light. Because she is a noble-born wolf of a high-ranking line, her transition into the pack has to be sanctioned by both my and her father.
“Once you mark each other,” I explain, leaning forward, “the bond becomes a legal reality. My father will sign the decree of integration. He’s already expressed his approval; he’s been looking for a way to strengthen our ties with the Romanian packs.”
Magnus’s grip on her tightens. “And the timing? Do you want to finish your degree here, Ili? Or do you want to move to Norway sooner?”
Magnus is two years older than her; he’ll be heading back to Norway to take up his full duties soon. Usually, a mate would stay to finish their education, meaning they’d be separated for long stretches.
Ilinca looks at Magnus, her expression soft and resolute. “I’m open to moving sooner. I don’t want to be away from you anymore.”
Magnus’s eyes sparkle with an intensity that makes me look away. It’s too raw. Too pure. He’s been looking for this his whole life, and now that he has it, he’s not letting go.
“And... Nikolai?” Ilinca asks shyly, her voice dropping. “Do you know about... Darius?”
I look at her, making sure my expression is soft.
“I know you have a son, Ilinca. And I don’t care who the father is, or what the circumstances were. Your son is welcome in our pack. He will be raised as Magnus’ son, with all the protection and status that entails. No one will ever question his place.”
Ilinca exhales a long, shaky breath, her entire body visibly relaxing. “Thank you,” she whispers.
We spend a few minutes in lighter conversation, Magnus and I falling into the easy, playful banter we’ve shared since we were pups. We talk about the hunting grounds in Norway, about the ridiculousness of some of the professors at Blackmere. For a moment, I feel like a normal man.
But the silence from the back of the apartment is deafening.
“So, what about you and Casandra?” I ask, trying to sound bored, as if I’m just making polite conversation about a roommate.
The atmosphere shifts instantly. Ilinca looks at Magnus, then at me, her eyes darting away. She looks uncomfortable. Defensive.
“Uhm..” Ilinca says, her voice cautious. “She’s... she’s the best person I know, Nikolai. She’s my best friend. She’s the reason I’m even standing here.”
“I’m sure she is,” I say, my jaw tightening. “But where is she?”
“She’s out,” Ilinca says firmly.
“Lukas,” the wolf snarls. “She’s with the fucking Swede. He’s touching her again.”
My blood begins to boil. I can feel the heat rising in my neck, my claws itching to break through the skin of my palms. If she’s with Lukas again..
“Out where?” I press, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous register.
Ilinca looks like she wants to stop talking, but she’s a wolf, and I am her future King. The command in my voice is hard to resist. “She had an appointment.”
“An appointment?” I repeat, the word tasting like poison.
Before I can demand more, the air in the apartment changes.
The scent of lilies and snow suddenly explodes, becoming sharp, vibrant, and entirely overwhelming. She’s close.
I hear giggling outside the door—a high-pitched, genuine laughter. I haven’t heard her laugh like that once since she arrived.
“Thank you for today. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Casandra’s voice rings out, light and playful.
And then, I hear a male voice. It’s not Lukas. This voice is deeper, smoother, dripping with a cultured, aristocratic charm.
“Yeah. And thank you,” the man says. His tone is too fucking intimate. I hear his footsteps retreating down the hall towards the elevator, the sound familiar, but the raw rage detonating in my mind clouds any shred of common sense.
The front door opens.
I am on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved.
Casandra walks in, and the sight of her stops the blood in my veins.
She is wearing a massive, oversized white t-shirt that clearly belongs to a man.
It hangs halfway down her thighs, the thin fabric clinging to her damp skin.
She’s drenched. Her hair is a dark, tangled mess of wet curls, and her black jeans are soaked through, sticking to her legs.
But all I can see is the shirt. It feels like a physical blow to my heart. It looks like a mark. A claim. She is wearing another man’s clothes, smelling of his scent mixed with lake water, looking like she’s just spent the afternoon being thoroughly ruined by him.
“Nikolai?” Casandra stops dead, her eyes widening as she sees me standing in her living room.
“What the hell is this?” I rasp, my voice sounding like it’s being dragged over broken glass.
She opens her mouth, a flicker of confusion crossing her face, but the roar building in my chest finally snaps. My wolf is screaming for blood, and the possessive, primal agony burns away any royal restraint.
I don’t wait for her to answer. I cross the space between us in a fraction of a second, reaching for her waist.
As my hands make contact, she twists with a vicious snarl, dropping her center of gravity.
Her hands lock onto my forearms, and she shoves back with a burst of raw, concussive power that completely throws me off balance.
I stumble a step backward, genuine shock piercing through my red-tinged vision.
She’s incredibly strong—far stronger than I anticipated.
She uses my split second of hesitation to dart toward the door, but my wolf refuses to be denied. The surprise morphs instantly into a dark, predatory thrill. I lunge, catching her around the waist before her hand even grazes the handle.
She thrashes wildly, becoming a blur of sharp elbows and fierce resistance.
She twists in my grip, landing a heavy strike against my jaw that actually rattles my teeth.
For a second, she almost breaks my hold, but the sheer mass and momentum of my body are just too much.
I absorb the blow, trap her flailing arms against her sides, and smoothly hoist her up, throwing her forcefully over my shoulder.
“Nikolai! What the fuck are you doing?!” Casandra shrieks, her fists immediately hammering into my back.
From the living room, Magnus is on his feet. “Nik, stop!” I can hear him screaming at me, his voice laced with authority and worry, but I don’t care. I ignore him entirely. The world has tunneled down to the woman on my shoulder and the sickening scent of the man covering her.
I’ve never been to her room before, but I don’t need a map. I follow the trail where her scent is strongest.
I kick her bedroom door open, stride inside, and slam it shut behind us, cutting off the rest of the world.
In one swift, fluid motion, I slide her off my shoulder and pin her hard against the back of the door. My body traps hers, locking her in place.
“What the hell is that?” I growl directly into her face, my vision swimming with red.
She opens her mouth to snap back, but the sight of the white fabric makes me lose my mind completely. I don’t wait for her answer. I fist my hands into the collar of the t-shirt and rip it cleanly down the middle, tearing it off her body in one violent shred.
The moment the fabric parts and her bare skin hits the air, the last of my control vanishes. I crash my lips onto hers. It’s not a gentle kiss; it’s a desperate, punishing re-claiming. I hook my hands under her thighs and lift her, and instinctively, her legs wrap around my waist.
I drink her in, trying to drown him out. But as I press her into the wood of the door, the sheer weight of what I’m doing catches up to me. The agony in my chest overflows, ripping through my wolf’s defenses.
I pull back just an inch, my forehead resting against hers. I hate how weak I feel. I hate how broken I sound.
“Why...” I choke out, a low, pathetic whimper escaping my mouth. “Why do you see other men?”
The vulnerability in my voice seems to break her spell. Casandra’s eyes flash, the heat of the kiss instantly souring into fury. She plants her hands against my chest and shoves me away with a surge of adrenaline.
Her legs slide down my waist, her feet hitting the floor. She glares up at me, breathing heavily, her chest heaving.
“Fuck you, Nikolai,” she spits, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and hurt. “Why haven’t you rejected me yet?”
I freeze, the words striking me harder than any physical blow.
“You don’t get to ask me that,” she continues, stepping closer, her eyes blazing. “You don’t have the damn right to ask me why I see other men when you literally told me you’re not sure you even want to keep me!”
My heart breaks. The sound of it cracking open echoes in the sudden, suffocating silence of the room. I look at her, wanting nothing more than to drop to my knees and beg her forgiveness, but the heavy, suffocating weight of my reality crashes back down on me.
My duty. The expectations of my people. The crushing burden of the crown I am meant to wear.
I can’t give her the answer she wants. I can’t give her the promise she deserves.
Paralyzed by my own cowardice and the sheer magnitude of my grief, I take a step back. I turn on my heel, tear the door open, and storm out of the room into the hallway, leaving her alone in the wreckage of the confrontation.