Iven's POV
He was rattled. Restless. He'd paced the entire length of his room more times than he could count like a caged animal, claws itching beneath his skin, his lycan—raging and snarling for him to go back, to claim, to hold, to protect. But he couldn't. Not when she looked at him like that.
He'd found his mate—finally—but she was human. Fragile. Breakable. And worst of all… she hadn't felt the pull.
She hadn't looked at him with wonder or recognition.
She'd looked at him like he was a monster.
Like he was a nightmare clawing out of the dark.
The memory stung more than he wanted to admit.
He was still drowning in those thoughts when the bond tugged at his chest—soft, faint, but unmistakable. She was near. Before he realized it, he was moving, following that pull like instinct, shadowing her steps into his house.
She slipped into the sitting room, blood on her arm.
The wound was small, but gods… she was human. An omega pup could heal faster than she would. Seeing her so delicate, so unprotected, ignited something fierce and possessive in him. He wanted to gather her close and shield her from the world.
Instead, he stood hidden in the hall like a coward, a criminal who didn't know what crimes he committed.
He listened as her family surrounded her, voices trembling. Her mother looked ruined as she cried, "What did she ever do to deserve such cruelty? First she was born differently… and now this."
The words cut him open.
Cruelty? Was he the cruelty?
His fists clenched so hard his knuckles cracked.
He hated himself for the first time in decades.
He edged closer, just enough to see her face Ariel had told him her name was Amaris, even her name sounded beautiful as she was— Confused, tense, a tremor of fear in her every breath. Gods, she was beautiful even in her distress. She asked again what was happening, and after a painful pause, Miandra finally explained the truth.
"I didn't feel anything," Amaris said quietly.
His chest tightened. Hard.
Of course she didn't. She had no wolf. But hearing it aloud—it made something sharp twist inside him.
Then came the question that froze the air.
"Who is he?"
Silence. No one answered.
He felt the spike of her fear like it was his own.
"Ariel?" she tried again.
This time, Miandra spoke. Her voice small.
"My alpha."
He flinched and turned his head away from the doorway.
He couldn't bear to see her reaction.
"Alpha Iven," Miandra whispered. "He's your mate."
And in that moment of painful realization he heard her say.
"We'll break it," she whispered, almost to herself. "I just… I have to speak to him. Let him know I'm not interested. There are a few old alphas who still have the knowledge to sever a mate bond."
And right then, something inside him went painfully still.
She didn't want this.
She didn't even want to try.
She didn't want him.
Not his bond.
Not his fate.
Not even a chance.
In that single moment, he understood with brutal clarity—
she wanted nothing to do with him at all.
.....
Iven couldn't stand to listen anymore.
Before anyone noticed, he turned and walked away.
His lycan thrashed inside him—wild, unstable, furious. It clawed at his ribs, demanding he go back for her, claim her, mark her, drag her close until the bond sealed.
But no.
Not again.
They already saw him as a monster. Giving in to that urge would only prove them right.
How he managed to walk away, he didn't know. Only that he had to. Because the truth was simple: the only reason he'd been given such a volatile lycan was because he was the only one capable of containing it. And contain it he did—by forcing his primal instincts into submission every single day.
Let them break the bond if they wanted.
What did it matter?
They thought she had it bad?
She was human, fragile, overlooked.
But he… he'd lived through far worse.
He'd been broken.
Used.
Shattered.
Again.
And again.
And again.
A thousand years of solitude—and he'd finally made peace with it. Finally accepted that the universe had abandoned him.
And now?
They brought him a mate only to watch her reject him like the rest.
Honestly… he didn't blame her.
If he were her, he'd reject him too.
What kind of cruel joke did the heavens think this was?
He didn't realize how far he'd walked until he found himself standing in the temple ruins again, at the very place he'd seen her. And the memory of that moment hit him hard—because he always kept control. Always. Yet the second he thought she was hurt, he'd shifted without even meaning to.
That terrified him more than anything.
It didn't matter now.
He'd just stay out of her way for the next two days. After that she'd leave, find someone to sever the bond, and he'd go back to being what he was—alone.
She wouldn't feel a thing. Humans never did.
The bond snapping would tear through him ten times worse than any wolf or lycan…
but the selfish part of him was grateful she'd walk away untouched.
If only his heart could do the same.