Fated To Him

Lucien & Annabelle The forest was too quiet. Lucien felt it before he heard it - that sharp, electric stillness that told a predator another predator was near. His wolf prowled beneath his skin, restless, impatient, pacing like a caged storm. He clenched his jaw and rolled his shoulders, letting the night air cut across his bare arms. His patrol should’ve been routine. Instead, something was wrong. He inhaled deeply. And everything inside him stopped. A scent drifted through the trees - soft, warm, maddeningly sweet. Like vanilla touched with smoke. Like the moment before a flame catches. Lucien froze. No. No, it couldn’t be. He took another breath, deeper this time. The scent hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking every thought out of his head except one: Mate. His wolf roared the word so loudly his knees almost buckled. Lucien had survived wars, assassinations, challenges, attempted coups. He’d been named Alpha of the Blackridge Pack at twenty-one, feared by enemies and worshipped by his own. But nothing - not power, not blood, not destiny - had ever shaken him the way that scent did. He had spent years believing he didn’t have a mate. That the Moon Goddess had decided he didn’t deserve one. That someone like him - cold, merciless, driven by duty - wasn’t meant to belong to anyone. And yet here she was. Close. His pulse thundered. His breath turned jagged. He followed the scent through the trees, every step pulling him tighter and tighter toward inevitability. Then he heard it: a heartbeat. Fast. Fragile. Human. He pushed through the brush just as she stumbled into the clearing. Annabelle. Wide-eyed. Barefoot. Blood on her ankle where she must have scraped it. Her dark hair tangled from running, her dress torn at the hem. And gods — that scent was pouring off her in waves, wrapping around him, pulling him closer like a tether he couldn’t fight even if he wanted to. She didn’t see him at first. She was too busy scanning the trees behind her, chest rising and falling in frantic breaths. Someone had been chasing her. Lucien’s vision blurred red. No one touched what was his. Not even before she knew she was his. He stepped out of the shadows. Her head snapped toward him. The moment their eyes met, the world tilted — violently — as if the earth itself bowed beneath the weight of the bond snapping into place. Annabelle gasped, one hand flying to her chest. Lucien’s own heart slammed hard, the bond hitting him like a wildfire. She was his. And she felt it. He could see the recognition in her eyes — shock, fear, awe, something deeper she didn’t understand yet. He spoke first, voice roughened by the wolf clawing to get out. “Don’t run.” The words came out like a command, low and dangerous, but his chest ached when she flinched back. Her lips trembled. “W-who are you?” Lucien took one slow step forward, careful, despite the beast inside him snarling to close the distance. “My name is Lucien.” He swallowed. “I won’t hurt you.” But gods, he wanted to touch her. Hold her. Bury his face against her neck and breathe her in until his lungs understood what air was supposed to be. Annabelle’s eyes darted behind her again. “There was something in the woods—something chasing me.” Lucien stiffened. So he’d been right. “Not something,” he growled. “Someone.” Her breath hitched. “You saw them?” “I scented them.” His jaw tightened. “And you won’t see them again.” Before she could question him, he lifted his chin slightly and inhaled. The intruder’s scent still lingered — rogue wolf. Male. Unclaimed territory. Too close. Lucien’s rage rose like a dark tide. Annabelle didn’t know what he was — not yet — but she felt the shift in him. She curled her arms around herself, stepping backward. Lucien forced himself to soften. “Annabelle.” Her name felt dangerous on his tongue. Too intimate. Too perfect. “You’re hurt.” “It’s nothing,” she whispered, though she winced. He shook his head once. “Let me see.” “I—I don’t know you.” Not knowing him had never stopped the bond from threading through his veins like fire. He took another step, slow and deliberate, letting her see the truth in his eyes. “I know you feel it,” he murmured. “Whatever this is between us. I feel it too.” Her breath stilled. Good. She wasn’t imagining it. Lucien knelt in front of her, careful not to touch her skin without permission. That alone nearly tore his wolf apart. “Please,” he said quietly — a word he had never used in his life. “Let me help you.” Annabelle hesitated. Then, with trembling fingers, she extended her injured foot. Lucien reached out and gently cradled her ankle. The moment his skin touched hers, heat shot up his arm, bright and consuming, the mate bond snapping tighter. Annabelle gasped. Her knees almost gave out. Lucien’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. He was trembling. Actual, physical trembling. He looked up at her slowly. Her lips were parted. Her cheeks flushed. Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath her skin. Moon above. She felt it too. “Annabelle…” His voice was almost a growl. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” She took a shaky breath. “W-what are you?” He stood, still holding her hand because neither of them were willing to let go. “A man who will protect you,” he said. “No matter what comes.” Her eyes softened for the first time. “Why?” Lucien didn’t look away. Couldn’t. “Because you’re mine.” Her heart stumbled. He heard it. She knew he heard it. But before he could say another word— A howl split the night. Close. Too close. Annabelle flinched and grabbed his arm. Lucien turned toward the sound, his wolf ripping forward, eyes burning silver. “Stay behind me,” he said, voice turning lethal. “I’m done letting anyone come near you.” The rogue had made a mistake tonight. A fatal one. Lucien would kill for his mate. And he would start now.