Chapter 2
Freya's POV
My chest tightened, the brief happiness I'd allowed myself to feel evaporating like morning dew. Of course, he would whisper her name after being with me. His true mate.
Or rather, the woman he believed was his true mate.
The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth as I stared at the ceiling, my body still warm from his touch. What had just happened between us was a mistake—a dangerous, reckless mistake.
His face was peaceful in sleep, younger somehow, the hard lines of authority smoothed away. I allowed myself one gentle touch, brushing a lock of dark hair from his forehead, before slipping from the bed.
Moving silently, I gathered our scattered clothing, folding his and placing it on a chair. I dressed quickly, then padded to the bathroom, dampening a washcloth with warm water. Returning to the bed, I carefully cleaned him, erasing the evidence of what we'd done.
He didn't stir, the wolfsbane ensuring he'd sleep deeply until morning. Would he remember any of this? Part of me hoped he wouldn't. Part of me ached at the thought of being forgotten.
I straightened the room, removing every trace of my presence. Only his sheets would hold my scent, but that couldn't be helped. With one last glance at his sleeping form, I slipped from the room, closing the door silently behind me.
In my own cold, empty bed, I curled around a pillow, still feeling the ghost of his touch on my skin. My fingers traced my unmarked neck where his lips had been. So close to completing the bond, yet still so far.
I smiled despite the ache in my chest. For one night, I'd had what I'd wanted since I first laid eyes on Ethan Blackwood three years ago in that forest clearing. The memory flooded back with perfect clarity.
I'd been cast out by my father, Marcus Hayes, the Alpha of the Starscar Pack. He'd always favored my pure-blooded half-sister, Riley. When I refused to hand over my human mother's silver crafting secrets to him, his face had contorted with rage.
"You ungrateful little half-breed!" he'd snarled, fangs partially extending. "I've fed you for eighteen years, and this is how you repay me? Get out of my house! I have no obligation to provide for you anymore!"
I remember standing there, trembling but refusing to lower my gaze. If occasional scraps and leftover food barely keeping me from starvation counted as "feeding" me, then yes, he'd fed me for eighteen years. The bare minimum to keep his half-blood daughter alive while he showered Riley with everything. But it was enough to remind me I owed him nothing when he threw me out.
I'd been wandering near the borders of several territories, my few possessions in a backpack, when I'd sensed him. The pull had been immediate and undeniable—like a hook behind my navel, drawing me forward through the trees until I saw him.
Ethan had been standing at the edge of a clearing, staring into the distance. Even from behind, I'd known him instantly. My mate. Ember had howled in recognition, almost forcing a shift right there.
Then I'd seen what he was looking at—my half-sister Riley, walking away from him, heading toward a waiting car. I'd learned later she was leaving for Europe because her mother wanted her to join a pure-blooded pack there, to grow stronger and more powerful among her own kind.
Riley—only six months younger than me. The living proof of my father's betrayal. He'd gotten his mistress pregnant while my mother was still carrying me. For eight years, he'd kept Riley and her mother Elena hidden away, his dirty little secret. Then, when my wolf Ember finally awakened and I had to leave for Fierceclaw Academy to learn control, he'd seized his chance.
He brought Riley and Elena into our home, installing them like they belonged there all along. My mother Bella couldn't bear the humiliation. By the time I returned home for summer break, she lay in a hospital bed, unresponsive, trapped in her own body after attempting to take her life. A vegetative state, the doctors called it. I called it what it was—the final wound my father had inflicted on her.
When Ethan had turned and seen me, there had been no recognition in his eyes. No sense of the mate bond that sang through my veins. The witch's curse had blinded him to what should have been instinct.
Ethan's situation was complicated by his family history. His grandfather, Victor Blackwood, the former Alpha of Moonshade Pack, had grown too old to maintain control over the territory. And Ethan's father, who should have been the next Alpha, had been killed in a brutal battle with a coven of witches fifteen years ago. Before he died, he'd managed to kill one of the witches—a fatal mistake.
The witch's daughter, consumed by grief and rage, had placed a terrible curse on Ethan: he would never recognize his true mate, doomed to live his life without the deep connection that every wolf craved. She wanted him to feel the same emptiness she felt without her mother. For years, Ethan had tried everything to break the curse, but nothing worked.
Three years ago, Riley had announced to everyone that she was his true mate. The entire pack believed her without question—even Ethan himself. But on the night of my eighteenth birthday in that forest, when I first met Ethan, I felt it—that unmistakable pull, the soul-deep recognition that only true mates experience.
I knew immediately that Riley had lied. She couldn't possibly have known she was Ethan's mate when she left for Europe—she hadn't even turned eighteen yet, the age when wolves can sense their true mates. But I kept silent. Who would believe me? A half-breed claiming to be an Alpha's true mate? I would have been laughed out of the territory—or worse.
With Ethan unable to break the curse, and Riley—the only person who claimed to be his mate—having left, he'd resigned himself to a strategic union instead—which is where I came in.
An Alpha who had completed the trials but had no mate could not take leadership. He needed someone—anyone—to fill the role. And I needed money for my mother's medical care after my father had cut us off.
Four years, we'd agreed. A business arrangement. He would pay for my mother's care, and I would be his mate in name only. When the four years were up, we would part ways amicably.
Three years down, one to go.