The broken Lycan prince - Healed by innocence

*Grayson* The young She-wolves gasping moans rise to a frantic crescendo as I expertly bring her to the brink of ecstasy. Her hips tremble against my palms. "Larax, oh, Larax!" she cries out. I freeze, knowing way to well what's next: a small sob, then a flood of tears. She falls into this predictable pattern faster than most. Slowly, I lift my gaze from the apex of her thighs to meet her horrified green eyes, holding her stare for a heartbeat before she looks away, and her tears begin in earnest. "I'm so sorry," she croaks. She ought to be. It's incredibly rude to call for your husband while in bed with another man. I press a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh, making her flinch and intensifying her crying to unbearable wailing. Gently, I move her shapely leg to pull myself away from her intimacy, a place she no longer seems to want me. Sitting at the bed's edge, I open a drawer in the small mahogany nightstand, extracting a neatly folded monogrammed handkerchief, a gift from Cammy, one of many I keep on hand for such circumstances, which have been happening with an annoying frequency lately. I need to talk to Cammy about the She-wolves she is… introducing me to. Looking over my shoulder, I see the woman has turned her back to me, showing off her beautiful back. I reach over her curled shoulders, dangling the linen in front of her. "Here, use this." She grabs it, using it to wipe away her tears, sniffling ungracefully throughout. "It's not fair," she grumbles. "He's with his despicable mistress tonight. Why can't I have a lover without feeling guilty?" Truth is I do not get it either, but in many ways werewolf society, especially in Britain is very old fashioned. And while infidelity is not allowed for anyone, it is widely overlooked when the culprit is an Alpha, a Beta or a lycan Prince. I grab my robe from a nearby chair, slipping into the silk and cinching the belt. Time has taught me forgiveness is easier when skin isn't against skin. Laying back on the satin sheets, I rest my hand on her trembling shoulder. "Come here." She shakes her head. "I can't. Not yet." "Sweetest Luna, just let me hold you, nothing else. I will even let you pound my chest if it makes you feel better," I say softly. She glances over her shoulder, her cheeks glistening with tears. "Don't you want to finish?" I give her a wry smile. "My dear, trust me: we are very much finished." More tears fill her eyes as she turns towards me. I take her into my arms, rocking her gently. "I want to hate him, I really do, with all my heart, but I can't seem to feel anything beyond disappointment that our mate bond is not more important to him," she whispers. "I know." I say softly. She sighs. "Why can't Larax love me?" "Maybe he does," I suggest. Although I know the Alpha of Whitemoores probably doesn't love his wife. Love isn't always a factor in the mate bonds forged in the high packs, as my brother Quentin, the Alpha of Black Forest, tragically discovered. "My decision to come here was foolish. I can't understand why I even considered it." She looks up at me, her eyes probing mine. "Was I unfaithful, do you think, if we never actually... if we were never really... intimate?" I press a kiss to her forehead. Women come to me because I excel at giving them what they crave, even when it's just selective truths, skirting the edge of lies without completely crossing into deceit. "No, you weren't unfaithful." "Really?" She asks hopefully. "In my opinion, no. But I wouldn't bring up this topic with your husband if I were you. He might not be as understanding as I am." There is no need to make her feel worse than she already does. A sweet, shy smile graces her lips, making me want to find her neglectful mate and beat some sense into him. "Thank you," she whispers. "My pleasure." I say without thinking. Her smile widens a little, almost impish. "It really wasn't, was it? Your pleasure, I mean." It rarely is. However, I have no intention of burdening her with the truth and risk the city's gossip mills finding out. "Why don't I go downstairs and fetch some hot cocoa for you? Then I will call an Uber to take you home," I propose. She sniffs, wipes her eyes, and nods. "Excellent." I mumble. As I roll off the bed, she hastens to cover herself with the sheets. Modesty returns so quickly when roles are acknowledged. Exiting my bedroom, I descend the stairs and find Eddie, my personal assistant, sitting on the bottom step, scratching his head as if plagued by lice. I dispatched those pests ages ago. I wonder what's worrying the lad now. Hearing my approach, Eddie turns and jumps to his feet. "A message came, sir. I wasn't sure if I should bring it to you," he glances up the stairs nervously, "considering you have a she-Wolf upstairs. The dude what delivered it..." "Who delivered it," I correct gently. Seemingly lost in thought, Eddie furrows his brow. "I don't know his name. I have never seen him before." Had I not lost my laughter long ago, I might have chuckled. Instead, I clarify, "You said 'the dude what delivered,' and it should have been 'who delivered.' I was correcting you, not asking a question." "Ah, right. Got it." He mumbles. "I'm also sure he was a messenger, not a 'dude’.” I tell him. He nods. "Right again, sir. The messenger said it was urgent." "I'm sure it is, coming at this hour." And it likely requires me to visit the city's darker corners once my guest departs. Eddie hands me the letter. "Bring me some hot cocoa for my guest before she leaves. Then arrange for the Uber for the Luna." "Right away, sir," Eddie sprints off. "Eddie?" I call. He stops, his earnest gaze making me wonder how his mother sold him off when he was six. It was two years before we met, and we never discussed the horrors he likely endured during that time. "Have Cook prepare some cocoa for you too." His face splits into a delighted grin. "Thanks, Boss." I break the seal on the message and stare at my father's meticulous handwriting. I wonder what has my father send something as old fashioned as a letter The lycan prince of Stormhold is not one for elaborate pranks, in fact, he is not one for jokes at all. But his words must be some sort of cruel jest. In a daze, I walk into the living room and head for my favorite liquor cabinet. My hand trembles as I pour whiskey into a glass. It's a whiskey my half-brother sent from Texas. "Guaranteed to give you a kick in the gut," Harrison had written on the note accompanying his gift. The burn of the whiskey coursing down my throat is unexpected, like a wildfire in the depths of winter. I cough, my eyes watering, the warmth seeping into my otherwise cold body. I read the words penned by my father again, sinking into a chair as my world falls apart around me. "So, how did our little Luna take it when she got a taste of your...talents?" The words cuts through my despair. The voice is smooth, feminine. Cammy. She used to be an Alpha’s mate but is now a widow. She's my keeper, and more often than not, my tormentor. She gives me a place to stay, but it comes with the price of her interruptions. I look up at her. She's beautiful, with her brown hair, brown eyes, and perfect features. But if you look past the surface, she's anything but. "Like any woman in love with her husband," I reply. She sighs in annoyance. "Why on earth would she love the Alpha of Whitemoores?" I shrug. "I have no idea. I'm not exactly an expert in matters of the heart." My focus drifts back to the crumpled letter in my hand. The words are no longer visible, but they've been burned into my memory forever. "Don't look so glum, Grayson. It doesn't suit you. Love is overrated and just makes things messy, as our Luna upstairs can attest." Cammy says. Ignoring her, I slowly rise to my feet. "My brother's dead." "I'm not shocked. Texas packs are wild, and your father was asking for trouble when he sent his illegitimate son there. How did he die? Rogues? Outlaws? Was it gruesome?" I shake my head. I can't understand the implications of the devil calling one of his own back. "Not Harrison. Quentin." She gasps, her hand flying to her throat. "The Alpha of Blackwoods? The Heir? How?" "He drowned in the family pond." I say with a shrug. Her shock quickly morphs into scheming, as I can tell from the triumphant smile slowly spreading across her face. "Well, well, well. So the spare becomes the heir." She steps closer, placing her hand over where my heart used to be. "I have always wanted to be a Princess." I grab her hand and throw it away. "Then you will have to wait, Luna." "Don't be ridiculous. We have been good together all these years. We suit each other." She says. "I have never seen it that way." I turn to leave. I can be packed and gone in five minutes. "And what do you think will happen the first time you attend a ball or dinner?" she calls after me. "When they find out who you are?" I freeze, my heart pounding. "Do you think, after everything, they won't talk? That any woman would want you for a mate?" She growls, "I know finding a mate isn't an option for me, Luna." I simply say, She sounds rather desperate. "Then why not settle for me?" she asks. "I'm willing to accept your sins." "Because I can't accept them." Not just the sins I have committed here, but the one before this. The one I can't forgive. The unforgivable sin. I leave the room, accepting that the one thing I have always wanted - a mates love - will forever be out of my reach.