Chapter Nine
711 Words
Xavier
The council chamber smelled like smoke and old wood—tradition soaked into every beam.
Xavier stood at the head of the long table, arms crossed, expression neutral as the elders settled into their seats. He already knew why he’d been summoned. They never called meetings without an agenda, and tonight’s tension hummed like a drawn wire.
“Your leadership is unquestioned,” Elder Rowan began carefully. “But stability requires more than strength.”
Xavier’s jaw tightened.
“Say it,” he said.
“A pack without a Luna is vulnerable,” another elder added. “You’ve led alone long enough.”
There it was.
“I am not alone,” Xavier replied evenly.
Murmurs rippled through the room.
“With respect,” Rowan said, “you are unmated. The pack feels it. Rivals feel it. We need certainty.”
Xavier felt the pressure stir beneath his ribs—not anger, not irritation.
Awareness.
The same one that had followed him since the night Karma Slivermoon collapsed into his arms.
“I will choose a mate when it’s right,” he said. “Not because you’re uncomfortable with patience.”
Silence fell, heavy and displeased.
“You are running out of time,” Rowan warned.
Xavier didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
The meeting ended with no resolution, but the message lingered like a threat. He left the chamber with control intact—and instincts coiled tight.
He felt her before he saw her.
Lyra waited near his quarters, leaning casually against the wall like she belonged there. She always had that effect on people—long brunette hair falling loose around her shoulders, warm brown eyes that softened her sharp intelligence. As a woman, she was everything men noticed. Everything they followed.
She’d been pining after him since they were teenagers. Everyone knew it.
“You look tense,” she said lightly, pushing off the wall as he approached. “Rough meeting?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Xavier replied.
She smiled, unbothered. “The council called me too. They’re worried.”
“So am I,” he said. “About boundaries.”
Lyra stepped closer anyway, her scent deliberate, familiar. “We’ve danced around this for years, Xavier. The pack wants a Luna. I want you. It makes sense.”
It didn’t.
The pull didn’t respond to her presence at all.
No echo. No alignment. Nothing.
That was when it hit him.
Hard. Clean. Undeniable.
The mate bond wasn’t absent.
It was active.
And it wasn’t here.
Xavier stilled, the realization settling like a final piece clicking into place. The pressure he’d felt. The way proximity eased her pain. The way distance sharpened his awareness.
Karma.
The bond was there—quiet, unclaimed, unacknowledged—but unmistakable.
Lyra reached for him then, fingers brushing his arm. “You don’t have to keep carrying this alone.”
He stepped back immediately.
“No,” he said, voice low but absolute.
Her smile faltered for the first time. “Is this about the girl?”
Xavier didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
“She’s an outsider,” Lyra pressed, frustration bleeding through. “Unmated. Unstable. She doesn’t even have a wolf yet.”
“Enough,” he snapped.
The word cracked through the hallway, final and sharp. Lyra recoiled slightly, shock flickering across her face.
“I will not take you to my bed out of convenience,” he said. “Or politics. Or history.”
Her eyes darkened. “You’d risk the pack for a stranger?”
He thought of silver hair at a darkened window. Of icy blue eyes watching his wolf run.
“I would risk myself,” he corrected.
Lyra stared at him for a long moment, then laughed softly—hurt edged with bitterness. “You always were impossible.”
She turned and walked away without another word.
Xavier exhaled slowly, grounding himself.
The bond pulsed faintly now that he’d named it. Still restrained. Still waiting.
He headed toward the east wing.
Not to claim.
Not to confront.
Just to confirm what his instincts already knew.
The mate bond had found him.
And he had no intention of letting anyone—council or contender—touch what was never theirs to begin with.
- Writer
