21. Nikolai
The leather of the punching bag splits under my knuckles, a satisfying crack that echoes through the empty gym, but it’s not enough. Nothing is enough to drown out the roar of the beast in my blood or the clinical, cold voice in my head.
I’m vibrating. The scent of her is still trapped in my lungs, an addictive poison I can’t seem to exhale.
“You smelled him on her and you tore everything in your way to get to her. Now you throw her away?” my wolf snarls, his claws scraping against the back of my skull.
I ignore the internal howl and drive my fist into the bag again. My mind flashes back to an hour ago—the way the air had turned to acid the moment I stepped into the building.
I didn’t even need to see them to know she was in Lukas’s apartment. Her scent was being choked out by his. I remember the red haze that took me, the way the door frame shattered under my hand.
Seeing him lean in... seeing his hand on the curve of her waist where my marks should have been... I had been ready to kill him. Not just challenge him, but end the Swedish line right there on the rug.
But then, the bed.
The memory hits me with the force of a physical blow, making my knees weak.
For a few minutes in that room, the crown hadn’t existed.
The hatred hadn’t existed. There was only the heat of her, the way she looked against my sheets and the way she called my name.
When my fingers were inside her, when I felt her soul shutter against mine, I was whole.
I wasn’t just a Crown Prince or a future King; I was a man who had finally found the other half of himself.
It was everything I had been told the bond would be. It was perfect.
And then, I looked at her. Really looked at her.
I saw the way the light caught the unnatural sharpness of her features. The reality of what she is came crashing back, heavy as a tombstone.
I am the future King of our kind.
How do I stand before my people with a vampire at my side? How do I tell them that their future Queen drinks blood to survive? The throne requires a wolf, not a monster.
So, I did what a King has to do. I cut her out.
I can still see the way the light died in her eyes when I told her I wasn’t sure I’d keep her.
I can still taste the lie. It felt like I was plunging a silver blade into my own chest, but I watched her scramble off the bed, clutching her dress like I’d struck her, and I didn’t reach out. I let her walk away.
How dare she say she’s been touched by a wolf? Did she lie just to hurt me? It can’t be Lukas, I’d know if she let him fuck her.
“You’re a fool!" the wolf screams, a mournful, jagged sound that makes my hands shake.
“It’s for the pack,” I growl at the empty gym, my voice raw.
I keep telling myself that it’s for the pack and for my sister’s memory. I tell myself that a King’s life is one of sacrifice. I tell myself that the hollow, aching void in my chest is just the price of leadership.
But as I stare at my bloodied knuckles, all I can think about is the her scent, and the fact that I’ve just ensured I’ll be sitting on that throne completely, utterly alone.