Chapter 2_ HER
1303 Words
Lucian Fenwick didn’t come to the rooftop to find a mate.
He came to escape.
The ballroom below was a choking maze of perfume, bright gowns, and too many hungry eyes. It reeked of polished desperation—wolves posturing, packs mingling, highborn mothers parading their daughters like prized offerings. The Choosing Ball, meant for joy and unity, felt more like a battlefield dressed in silk.
And through it all, his wolf had paced restlessly beneath his skin, snapping at every forced smile, every lingering touch, every false scent that drifted too close.
He needed silence. He needed distance.
He needed control.
But even here—high above the noise, surrounded only by night air and stone—fate found him.
Her scent.
It struck like lightning. Sharp and sweet and impossible.
Lilies and jasmine, soft and pure, but there was something wilder tangled beneath it. Something ancient. Something his.
Lucian staggered, breath caught mid-chest, his wolf lunging forward with a snarl of recognition. His heart stuttered. His vision blurred. Every instinct inside him locked onto the source—
And then she appeared.
She stepped onto the rooftop like a secret. Simple dress, a plain brown mask. Her presence was quiet. Almost delicate.
Human.
His world tilted.
His wolf surged, howling in triumph. Mate.
Not maybe. Not possibly. Not some passing whim of biology.
Mate.
Lucian’s claws ached to tear free. His jaw locked as his fangs pressed forward, his body screaming to shift, to take, to claim. He slammed the instinct down hard, grinding it beneath centuries of control. But it wasn’t enough. His hands trembled. His pulse thundered like war drums.
A human.
The Moon Goddess had to be mad.
He was Lucian Fenwick —the Alpha of SilverCliff, royal lycan, heir to one of the oldest bloodlines in existence. His Luna should be fierce. Unbreakable. A queen in teeth and claws, not a slip of a girl who looked like the very wind might carry her away.
And yet—his wolf didn’t care.
It only saw her. Only wanted her. The bond had snapped into place with terrifying clarity. The scent of her blood eclipsed every other. Her soul called to his like a song he’d never known he needed.
Then—
She turned.
Took one look at him—
And ran.
Lifted her skirts and bolted, bare steps echoing on the stone like thunder.
And something in him shattered.
She ran.
From him.
His wolf went silent.
Then snarled.
Rejection. That’s what it felt like. That’s what his wolf believed. The bond had called—and she had turned away.
A growl ripped from Lucian’s throat, raw and guttural, rumbling through the night like distant thunder. His hands fisted at his sides, claws digging into his own palms.
He should be glad. Should thank the stars she had the sense to be afraid.
But all he felt was rage.
What had frightened her? His mask? His presence? The darkness he carried like a second skin? Or was it something deeper—had she seen the monster under his royal blood and ancient titles?
He paced to the edge of the rooftop, breathing hard. His wolf roared beneath his skin, tearing at the seams of his control.
He was losing himself.
He wanted to hunt her down. To drag her back and demand why the Moon Goddess had dared tie him to someone who could never survive him. Could never rule beside him. Never bear the weight of his bite, let alone the madness of his love.
But the truth was worse...
He wanted her.
Despite it all—
He wanted her.
And that made him furious.
The Moon Goddess doesn’t make mistakes. But this—this felt like a punishment. Of all the beings in the realm, this soft human girl was who she had bound to the beast inside him?
His wolf clawed up again, desperate to follow. To mark. To own.
But Lucian stood still, a storm behind his mask.
She ran.
Good.
She should keep running.
Because if she came back… if he caught her scent one more time…
Lucian Fenwick didn’t know if he’d kiss her or destroy her.
And the part that terrified him the most—
Was that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.
She ran.
And she better never stop.
Because next time,
he wouldn’t let her go.
*****
He told himself not to follow her.
Told himself she was better off far away.
That this madness—this bond—was some cruel mistake.
But his wolf didn't care.
It clawed at his skin like a caged beast, refusing to be silenced. And before he even realized what he was doing, his feet were moving—storming down the palace steps, dragging him back into the ballroom he swore he’d escape.
He’d ruled over death, commanded storms with a whisper, torn through enemies without flinching. But now?.
He was chasing a girl.
A human girl.
The ballroom was no quieter than before—music, laughter, masked wolves twirling under the golden chandeliers—but the moment Lucian stepped inside, the air shifted. His presence rolled in like a storm cloud. Wolves turned, masks tilted, conversations died mid-word.
They felt his fury.
They felt his power
They moved.
He didn’t slow. Didn't look at anyone.
Her scent had already found him again—impossible to miss. Even through the haze of perfume and wine, it curled around his senses like a whisper: jasmine and lilies, warm and maddening, stitched with a heartbeat he could hear even now.
Then he saw her.
Tucked at the bar. Still. Quiet. Dressed in soft earth-tones that made her look more like a ghost than a guest. She held a wine glass, untouched, her eyes scanning the crowd like she was waiting for something—or trying not to be seen.
So vulnerable. So unguarded.
Too unguarded.
What are you doing here, little one? he wanted to growl.
He didn’t approach her. Not yet.
Instead, he stood in the shadows, watching. Letting his eyes drink in every curve, every movement, like his body was memorizing her without permission. The wolf inside him growled with pure hunger—wanting to get closer, to claim, to bite, to own.
But then he paused.
There was something… wrong.
Her scent was changing. Muted. As though hidden behind a veil. He narrowed his eyes, nose twitching slightly.
Magic.
Old, clever spellwork. A scent-cloaking charm—designed to trick werewolves into thinking she was one of them.
It wasn’t working on him.
Her human blood called to him stronger than ever. Not even the spell could bury it. Not from a royal lycan. Not from her mate.
His jaw clenched.
Was that why no one had noticed? Why no one had dragged her out of this place already?
He should’ve been the one to do it.
He should’ve sent her away the moment he saw her.
But instead_
She turned.
Her gaze skimmed the bar, then landed on him.
And in that single heartbeat, everything else disappeared.
He saw the moment she recognized him. Not his face—his presence. Her fingers tightened on the glass. Her shoulders tensed. Her breath hitched just enough for him to hear it over the music.
She remembered him.
His beast surged again, snarling like it had been struck. Furious. Desperate. Demanding.
She ran once. Don’t let her run again.
Lucian took a slow breath, fisting his hands at his sides.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
He wasn’t supposed to want her.
She wasn’t supposed to be his.
And yet every thread of fate, every growl of his wolf, every bone in his cursed body told him otherwise.
She was his.
And if she tried to run again…
He wouldn't let her go so easily.
- Writer
