Kieran's True Mate

Chapter 4

Kieran’s POV

I was in my room, currently on my phone, scrolling through social media. Kieran Sinclair - second son of the most feared Alpha in the region. And I wasn’t particularly interested in anything specific, just killing time before dinner.

A knock interrupted my mindless scrolling. “Come in,” I called, not looking up.

Ethan - my half brother - entered. The difference between us was clear - where I was perfectly built, with muscles in the right places, Ethan was a little bigger and carried the same air as our father. Born to a mistress, he’d lived as my elder brother from the moment father brought him home.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” he asked, leaning against my door frame.

I finally glanced up, meeting his gaze. “Dressed for what?”

“Dinner,” he responded, moving further into the room and picking up a random artifact from my side table. “Father brought home a special guest.”

Something in his tone made me put my phone down. “Special guest? You mean another woman?”

Ethan’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Not just another woman, Kieran. This one seems different. Father talked about her differently this time.”

I leaned back in my chair, intrigued. “How so?”

“He used words like ‘permanent,’” Ethan explained, setting down the artifact. “Sounds like the old man is finally tired of his weekly rotation of women.”

My heart felt heavy with unexpected sympathy. “Poor girl,” I muttered. “No one deserves to be permanently trapped in Sinclair’s life.”

Ethan laughed sharply, “Trapped is exactly the word. She’s basically a transaction. Traded from one pack to settle a debt.”

“That’s barbaric,” I responded, standing up and moving towards my wardrobe.

“Not Barbaric for Sinclair's pack, where everything and everyone has a price. I'll meet you at dinner.” he said dryly before turning to leave and giving me my privacy.

After dressing in a black shirt and pants, I joined Ethan at the dining table.

We were discussing vacations and trips when Ethan suddenly went silent mid-sentence.

“Damn,” he whispered. “She’s hot.”

I turned, following his gaze. And that was when my entire world stopped.

Sheryl.

The same girl I’d been secretly following on social media was here? She was real? Not just a digital image, but flesh and blood, standing right here in our dining hall.

She looked different in person. So breathtaking. Her rich, dark hair cascaded down her slender neck like a waterfall of night, so silky and soft, it called to my hands. Her eyes were sea-green and mesmerizing. Her waist was narrow and defined, curving inwards like a delicate hourglass. But what kept me hooked were her breasts. OMG! They were so full and luscious, straining against the fabric of her dress like ripe fruit. I could bury myself in them all day.

Just then, something primal stirred within me. My wolf - usually calm and cool - suddenly went wild in recognition, screaming Mate, and calling out to Sheryl.

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

The girl my father just brought home as his “Mistress” was my destined mate?

Sheryl’s POV

My heart raced as I was led to the dining room. Every step felt like walking to an execution - which, in many ways, might not be far from the truth.

*You’ll probably end up like his previous wife, dead and forgotten.*

Those chilling words kept ringing in my ears as I walked.

The dining hall was massive. It was a room that could easily accommodate fifty people, yet only four place settings were laid out. When Helen led me to my seat, I tried to maintain some semblance of composure - a difficult task when I was outright terrified.

Two men were already seated at the table. The first was broader and looked a lot more like Sinclair. He had this energy about him - something mysterious - and I noted to myself to stay far away from him.

Then the second… my breath caught. He was leaner, with a more refined build. Handsome wasn’t even the right word. Striking. Mesmerizing. Something about him made my heart race in a way that was completely unexpected.

Our eyes met. And time seemed to stop.

There was something in his gaze that made my heart skip several beats. Not the predatory intensity of Sinclair, but something softer. Deeper, that drew me in immediately. I suddenly felt self-conscious.

The broader one broke the silence first. “So you’re the one father’s been talking about.”

It wasn’t a question. More like a statement of fact.

The leaner one remained silent, his eyes never leaving me. I felt exposed, examined, in a way that was both uncomfortable and strangely thrilling.

“Quite a trade,” the broader one continued, a hint of mockery in his voice. “Settling a debt with a person. Typical father.”

The leaner one finally spoke, his voice sending unexpected shivers down my spine. “Ethan,” he warned, a single word, but it carried multiple meanings.

I wanted to speak, to defend myself, to say something - anything. But the words died in my throat.

Before I could gather my courage, the room’s atmosphere changed. A predatory energy announced Sinclair’s arrival before he even entered.

He strode in like a conquering god. “My sons,” he announced, his voice cutting through the tension. “Allow me to introduce my new… mistress.”

Mistress? Was that what I had become in the space of twenty-four hours? Oh God.

“Kieran. Ethan. This is Sheryl.”

They both nodded at me, saying nothing.

Dinner began immediately, but in silence. We ate quietly, as if a single drop of pin might cause a volcanic eruption. Servants moved around us like shadows, topping our plates and drinks. But I couldn’t help noticing how Kieran kept stealing glances at me.

Each time our eyes met, something sizzling passed between us like electricity. The pull was so strong that when Kieran stood up, I almost stood up with him.

“I’m full,” he announced abruptly, his voice tight.

As he turned to leave, I couldn’t help wondering. Did he despise me? Was I nothing more than a filthy mistress of his father's he despised?

Dinner concluded shortly in suffocating silence. Then Sinclair stood up, and Ethan followed suit. They both headed out of the dining hall without even a backward glance at me. The servants cleared the plates, and a maid approached to escort me back to my room.

Immediately I entered my room, I heaved a heavy sigh of relief I didn't know I was holding, grateful for surviving another encounter with that monstrous man.

I had barely settled onto my bed to sleep, when a knock interrupted me

“Mistress,” a maid appeared at the door. “Master requests your presence.”

My blood ran cold.

“Now?” I whispered, my voice trembling. But... but I just came in today.

The maid’s expression remained impassive. “Immediately.”

She stepped aside, motioning for me to precede her.

Argh… just when I thought the day was going to end on a good note! I felt like screaming. But it was against the rules. What a way to live. He didn't even give me a day to get used to the place.

I urged my tired body to move and slowly followed behind as she led the way towards Sinclair’s chambers.

The maid opened Sinclair’s door and softly nudged me inside before closing it behind me.

When I looked around the room, I understood the true meaning of intimidation.

Sinclair’s room was massive - more like a dark, primitive chamber than a bedroom. Deep burgundy walls. Heavy, dark wooden furniture. The scent of leather and something wild hung in the air.

And there he was.

Naked.

Sitting on the edge of an enormous bed, his muscular back bent, elbows resting on his knees. His hands clasped together, creating an image of a powerful naked man.

I froze.

My eyes couldn’t decide where to look. Shame burned my cheeks. Terror twisted in my stomach, and I prayed to all the gods above that he wouldn't take me this night. I simply wasn't ready.

Just then, he looked up. his dark eyes locked onto mine.

“Strip,” he commanded.