His Mate. His Claim. His Mistake

Claimed

Theo

As promised, I was early.

I stood beside my father while crystal glasses clinked around us and classical music drifted from the string quartet in the corner. Everything was polished, measured, and carefully controlled. Exactly the kind of event I usually tried to escape.

A familiar restlessness moved under my skin the quiet urge to disappear before anyone trapped me in another round of polite conversation.

Father glanced sideways at me, reading my mood instantly. “You’re already thinking about leaving,” he said under his breath, amusement in his voice.

I chuckled softly. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me, yes.”

Across the room, Ethan laughed with a group of younger Lycans, looking completely at ease. At least one of us was enjoying himself.

“Elites are so boring,” Father muttered.

I smiled slightly. Mom had completely altered the original plan for his birthday. Instead of one large celebration, there were now two separate gatherings: this formal, quiet room for the elite and important allies, and the larger open celebration outside.

Father had wanted something simpler. Mom had wanted something that reflected the crown. He was already bored of the upper class. I could see it in the way his eyes kept drifting toward the doors leading to the outer grounds.

“You’re not going to stay long tonight, are you?” he asked.

“No.”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Take me with you.”

“Not a chance,” I laughed. “This is your party.”

He disappeared not long after that. One moment he was speaking with a council elder, the next he was gone. Mom started looking for him almost immediately, but I covered for him with a vague explanation about a private conversation with an ally.

I knew where he had gone. He had slipped away to mingle with the people on the other side the ones not considered 'polished' enough for this room.

When he returned a short while later, something about him seemed off. Distracted. Distant.

“Dad,” I said quietly as he came to stand beside me again. “Mom was looking for you. I covered for you.”

He gave a small nod, but he did not meet my eyes.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No. No.” He shook his head, clearing whatever memory had settled there. Then he looked at me, his usual warmth returning. “Thank you, son.”

I did not press him. Instead I stepped closer and pulled him into a brief, firm hug. “Happy birthday, Dad.”

He returned the embrace without hesitation.

“Theo,” he called softly as we pulled apart. His eyes looked strangely glassy. “When you find your mate, do not let go. Otherwise you might be left with regrets.”

I chuckled lightly, trying to ease the sudden weight in the air. “Dad, why are you saying that so sadly? You married your mate. The two of you got your happy ending.”

He and Mom were mates. Weren’t they?

He let out a long exhale, said nothing more, and walked away.

The evening continued with classical music, careful laughter, and political conversations disguised as small talk. When the time came, I delivered the short speech we had prepared.

I had been avoiding my mother all evening, but it proved useless.

“Theo, this is Genevieve,” Mom announced, leading a young woman over. “Her father is the Alpha of Cold Stone.”

I offered the expected smile and made polite conversation. She was poised, soft-spoken, and completely uninteresting to me. We spoke for a few minutes about nothing of real substance while Mom watched from a short distance, clearly hoping something would happen.

Nothing did. It never did.

Father drifted over eventually, took one look at my expression, and let out a quiet laugh. “Is your mother trying to introduce you to Alpha daughters again?”

“Yes,” I replied flatly.

He studied me for a second, then gave a small nod. “I suppose this is your cue to leave.”

I did not need to be told twice. I excused myself from Genevieve, crossed the room, and found Mom near the high arched windows. I kissed her cheek, promised I would not stay out late, and ignored her pointed look.

Then I turned back to Father, raised my glass in a small toast, and slipped out of the formal hall.

The corridor outside was quiet and cool.

I had only taken a few steps down the stone hallway when a scent stopped me mid-stride.

I inhaled deeply. Something sweet and completely unfamiliar filled my lungs. Within a heartbeat the scent shifted, spiking into pure, raw fear.

Before my brain could process the movement, my feet were already moving.

Help!

The cry was not loud. It did not echo through the grand halls. It was small, fragile, as if intended only for me.

I followed the sound without thinking.

The lower parking structure was dim and quiet. I saw them immediately: a broad man pinning a smaller figure against the cold side of a vehicle, his hands moving where they did not belong. She was terrified.

Anger flared through me, hot and absolute. Where were the guards?

I closed the distance in two strides, seized the man by his collar, and threw him sideways. Metal dented under the impact as he slammed into the car door and slumped to the concrete floor, groaning.

I stepped toward him to finish it, but something stopped me in my tracks.

The scent.

Standing directly beside her, it was overwhelming—warm honey, rain, and delicate flowers. It poured off the woman on the ground and nearly knocked me off balance.

*Mate.*

The realization hit my chest so hard my knees nearly buckled.

After eight years of waiting, she was real. My other half.

She was an Omega. A Demi, from the look of her. None of that mattered. She was here.

She was trembling on the cold concrete, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her chest rising and falling in rapid gasps. Her scent wrapped around me, thick with fear and something deeper, hotter. Arousal. Unsuppressed and blooming into something wild.

She was in heat.

My jaw tightened as I fought for control. I took one slow step forward.

She scrambled back instantly, palms scraping against the rough pavement. Her injured ankle gave out, but she kept crawling away from me as if I were the threat.

The sight hurt to watch. My mate was trying to run from me.

Tears slipped down her flushed cheeks. I wanted nothing more than to pull her against me and keep her safe.

She struggled to stand, but her ankle buckled again. Catching herself against a car door, she bit her lip hard and started limping desperately toward the bright exit doors heading toward the crowded banquet, toward dozens of Alphas who would catch her scent the second she opened those doors.

Over my dead body.

I closed the distance in seconds and caught her arm, my grip gentle but absolute. She gasped, her entire body going rigid under my touch.

“Let me go,” she rasped, her voice thin. “Please.”

The plea cut through me. I released her wrist, watching her tremble before me.

“I will not hurt you,” I said softly. “I would never hurt you. You are my mate.”

Large, terrified eyes looked up to meet mine.

“You do not know me,” she whispered.

I stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. “I know you are mine. I have been waiting years for you.”

She shook her head, a desperate movement. A low growl built in my chest, possessive and protective. My hand lifted on its own, palm brushing against her flushed cheek.

Her skin was hot and soft. The contact settled something wild inside my chest.

She pulled back with a small, broken cry. Her thighs pressed tightly together, and a soft sound escaped her lips half sob, half moan. A dark flush of heat was creeping down her throat, disappearing into the neckline of her dress.

“What is your name?” I asked, my voice rough.

Her lips parted, her throat working as she struggled for breath. “Lil…” she whispered. “Lilith.”

Lilith.

The name settled straight into my bones.

“My name is Theo,” I said, stepping closer until no space remained between us. “You are mine.”

She shook her head again, weak and unsteady. “I cannot…”

I slid my hand into her hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, and pulled her toward me. My mouth met hers.

Her lips were soft, parting on a shocked breath. The small noise that spilled from her throat went straight to my core. Her taste flooded my senses—sweet honey and liquid heat.

One hand stayed buried in her hair while the other slid down her lower back, pressing her smaller frame firmly against mine. For one brief moment she kissed me back, desperate and hungry.

Then her strength gave out, and she went limp against my chest.

I pulled back just enough to let her breathe. Her lips were swollen, her eyes wide, and her whole body shook violently against mine.

Without another word, I lifted her into my arms. She felt weightless. Her head fell heavily against my chest, her fingers curling weakly into my shirt even as her mind still tried to resist the pull.

I carried her through the quiet palace corridors I knew by heart, far away from the noise, far away from everyone else.

Nothing mattered except the woman in my arms.

My mate.

Lilith.

---

Lilith

I felt like I was floating and falling at the exact same time.

Being with him, Theo, was terrifying. Yet somehow it was the only thing that made sense. I could not tell where my own body ended and where his began.

His arms were solid around me. His scent filled my lungs until my head spun. His heartbeat sounded steady under my cheek, far calmer than the frantic rhythm hammering in my own chest.

The moment we crossed the threshold into his private room, my pulse jumped again.

Everything smelled like him. Thick, warm, and overwhelming. Something low in my stomach tightened hard. I did not understand it. I only knew it made thinking impossible.

An agonizing ache was building inside me, sharp and unfamiliar. My body shifted against his without permission, seeking something I had no name for. A small sound slipped from my throat, and I froze. It did not sound like me at all.

Nothing felt like me anymore. Not the heat spreading under my skin, nor the way my fingers held tightly to his shirt, refusing to let go.

He felt steady. Warm. Like safety and danger wrapped together.

Stay away from Lycan royals.

The warning my aunt had repeated a hundred times should have been loud in my head. Instead it vanished the second his lips brushed the side of my throat, just below my ear. The touch was soft, but it sent a sharp spark of heat straight through my blood. My head tipped back against his arm before I could stop myself.

“Where are we?” I whispered. My voice sounded small and unsteady.

“My room,” he answered, the words rumbling against my heated skin.

He lowered me gently onto the bed. The sheets felt cool against my skin, the pillows soft. Everything smelled like cedar, smoke, and something wild. I sank into the mattress, helpless against a sudden, desperate craving I had never been taught how to manage.

Then he pulled back.

A soft, distressed sound left my lips before I could catch it.

The space between us felt wrong. Empty. My body ached with the sudden lack of his touch, and I did not know how to make the burning stop.

Was this what heat felt like when you found your mate? This total helplessness? This complete loss of control?

The need pulling me toward him was stronger than fear, stronger than every careful lesson my uncle had ever taught me. Tears slipped down my cheeks before I realized I was crying.

“You are mine,” he said. His voice was quiet, absolute, and certain.

His thumb brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear with a gentleness that made my chest tighten.

I looked up at him.

He was breathtaking, towering over me in the dim light. A Lycan. A royal. The exact person I had been warned to avoid at all costs.

Yet my wolf leaned toward him as if she had been waiting her whole life for this exact moment.

He watched me carefully, dark eyes burning with golden light, waiting for my answer.

Something inside me small, primal, and deeply instinctive answered before I could second-guess it.

“Yours,” I whispered.