My Unwanted Mate

Chapter 4. Princess and Lies

Luca

Luca

Everything is fine. Didn’t find anything though. Victor is coming to get me home soon.

I stare at the message and can’t believe my eyes. This is the longest thing Geneva Valentine has ever said to me. Not that I mind, she is not someone I would like to be friends with. She is loud and spoiled, and a f*ucking lycan royalty. But I do feel responsible for sending her with my money on her merry way to look for her lost family.

She sent that text a few hours ago and we are back to radio silence again and, for some reason, it grates on my nerves. Like, I don’t actually care about her, but politically speaking, if something happens to that b*itch, it would look bad on me and my family. Lycans don’t need more reasons to hate us werewolves as it is. F*ucking angel eyes making me do stupid s*hit for no particular reason.

“Baby, why so serious?” Ava, the girl I am with for the night, asks. Her long nails grate the skin on my neck to draw my attention back to her and I immediately turn towards her, letting her slip her tongue in my mouth as I pull her even closer.

She is glued to my arm like a vine, and as the casual kiss breaks, she tries to steal a glimpse at my phone, which I still hold switched on in my free hand. I turn the screen off and hide it in my pocket, giving her all my attention.

Ava is hot and willing, and I immediately forget about that annoying creature I have no reason to care for. Geneva is old enough to make her own decisions and I owe her nothing. I don’t even like her that way, too uptight and prudent for my taste.

Not like Ava. Right now Ava is wearing the shortest, tightest leather skirt I have ever seen. It exposes her perfectly tanned legs and shapes her pert ass just the way I like it. She looks like sin looks and I do appreciate the sight, especially when her hands are on me almost the entire time since we hooked up last night. It is nothing serious, of course, but I take what I can any time it is available. Before all the responsibilities flood me again, I am back to being the f*ucking heir to the werewolf alpha, and by default being challenged and scrutinized at every step.

Good thing I have the hottest piece of ass at my side to distract me from my self-pity. I turn to kiss Ava again, trying to push the stupid thoughts away, and for good luck, of course.

Someone woos from behind us, the crowd cheering my name as I take my shirt off a moment later when I finally peel myself off her. Tossing the now locked phone to Dawar, my future beta, a tough guy just like me, I step into the ring as my name blasts from the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let me hear your applause for our own dragon! From South Redwind town, I present you Luca ‘Dragon’ Moretti! Fifty won fights and not a loss to his record! And he is only nineteen!”

The crowd goes ecstatic, and I can’t help but flinch at that last sentence. I still have time until my nineteenth birthday, I remind myself with venom. I still have two months until I am finally able to change everything.

It is ten p.m. and the biggest fight of the night is about to start. My fight. The bright light from the projectors blinds me for an instant as I walk toward the ring. I manage to focus quickly and go to wait for my opponent in the center of the improvised circle. I ignore the crowd, I ignore the race of my heart and try to shove the rage away, even though it is almost impossible tonight.

I am hyped up and ready, my hands twitching with the need to punch something, and do it soon. The conversation I had with my dad from earlier still buzzes at the back of my mind, and I am desperate to get busy and push it off. Preferably by knocking someone out and earning some extra cash and fame while doing it.

But his words still burn me like cigarette butts and I can’t shake them off. The anger, the darkness, the helplessness, they are all there. I know what I have to do, I know my duties. I am the son of the werewolf alpha and I am ready to take my responsibilities when the time comes and he turns me into one of them. That’s the way it is in our pack and I don’t exactly have a say in it. I’ve learned to live with it, and actually make the best of my situation. But I won’t give up on our deal until it ends. I don’t care if every second of my life as a human is f*ucking dangerous. I don’t care about other people in the pack challenging me for my title my entire life, or that my own father encourages them instead of putting a stop to it. I’ve had to fight for my life since an early age, and I know how to defend myself and put every pretender in place. Have I killed? Yes, I have. It is the only way to survive.

Here in the ring, it is different though. Here I am the one controlling the fight and it is the only place I feel normal. Like the responsibilities of who I am and what I’ve done don’t matter and I can be myself for as short as it lasts. It’s not about the crowd cheering, or the girls falling at my feet, even though I won’t refuse an offer when I get one. But it is about me being among humans, doing human stuff, and letting the steam off.

As the other guy, some big college fella whom I’ve never seen before, approaches, I feel like he is the embodiment of all the responsibilities I don’t want. Well, one can avoid his fate for only that long.

The speakers announce his name, but I don’t catch it as I definitely don’t care about it. That guy is just the meat I am supposed to beat tonight. And that is exactly what I do. The second he steps on the ring, I attack. This is a street fight, not a boxing match. There are no rules except, well, don’t kill your opponent.

The guy is larger than me, and at least looks angrier. He relies on blunt force and is fed up with the fact that the crowd loves me better than him. I toy with him as much as I want. I have the practice of having to defend my life ever since I turned ten and had my first kill, letting everyone in the pack know I am the right choice for the heir. There won’t be any other choice or a challenger for the title, I made sure of it.

I stare at the angry, now bloody face in front of me. I don’t need a shifter sense to smell the sour sweat coming off him, and I can see the rage in his small eyes. He is not happy that someone like me puts up a fight. He is twice my size and my age, and I still manage to stand my ground.

I step forward to deliver a hard punch, then jump back rapidly as he lunges towards me. He is enraged and it makes it three times more fun to tease him. I circle him, keeping his rage high, and when I see the opportunity, I deliver another punch to his face. His head snaps back, blood spurting out of his nose. The crowd is going crazy all around us. His eyes gleam with hatred and he runs towards me with a battle scream and it seems like he will hit me. At the last moment, I move away and the inertia makes him run a few steps until his body hits the ropes. He turns to face me and I stare back with a challenge, a smirk dances on my lips. Maybe I am too smug about it, but what was Jerry thinking about choosing this loser to fight me? Last week’s guy was so much more fun.

My eyes dart towards the crowd and fall on Ian St. Claire and I get distracted, just for a second, my mind immediately darting towards Geneva. I am not a soft person and I usually don’t care about other people. Yet for some reason, I feel responsible for her well-being. These Birnam people don’t sound like good folk. I should know. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be involved with my family’s business. And I sent that i***t straight to their den, even gave her money for it. I don’t know much about the Lycan way. All I know is that they are natural shifters who turn for the first time around their eighteenth birthday and that they are royal asses. My guess is that up until her birthday she is as human as I am. But unlike me, she’s been cradled in her golden castle since birth, and never, not even once, has she had to fight for anything in her life. It’s not something I respect about someone, especially about someone who f*ucking hates me, but still…

Ian catches my stare and shrugs in his typical manner, and I get distracted, just for a second. But that second is more than enough for my opponent to take advantage and deliver the first blow to my guts with all the blunt force he has stored inside him - a force that is now amplified by his hatred for me. My body flies to the other side of the ring and hits hard at the ropes. I fall hard on the ground and my vision blurs. The crowd is going crazy now, some cheer me to get up, others woo me to go die or something, all their shouts reverberate in my chest and connect with the beat of my heart.

I realize I am a complete i***t as I jump back to my feet after I kick the guy in the crotch, ready to finish the fight as quickly as possible. Suddenly I am eager to go check on Geneva right away.