Thunder's True Mate

Chapter 5: The Mistress Proposal

Charles's arms tightened around Daisy as she cried.

Her tears soaked his shirt. Every sob sent pain through her ribs, but she couldn't stop.

“I thought I was going to die," she choked. “I thought no one was coming."

“Hey," he murmured. “You're safe now. It's over."

His hand moved over her back, careful of her bruises.

“It's not over," she whispered. “No one believes me. Not my father. Not anyone."

“I believe you were hurt," Charles said softly. “I'm sorry I wasn't there."

She pulled back a little to see him.

His golden eyes were close, watching her. There were faint shadows under them, as if he hadn't slept.

“You came," she said. “I thought Thunder Storm left."

“The elders left," he said. “I stayed. I heard you were sick. Your father wouldn't let anyone in."

“And you still got in," Daisy said.

He gave a small smile. “I'm not just anyone."

He wiped her cheeks with his thumb.

“You're burning," he muttered. “He should have had someone sitting with you."

Daisy let out a thin laugh. “He locked me up so I could 'reflect,'" she said. “I guess almost dying was part of that."

Charles's jaw clenched. “You could have died," he said.

“I thought I might," she answered.

Silence stretched a moment.

“Those men," Daisy whispered. “They knew about our engagement. They said someone sent them to stop our wedding. I told Father. I told everyone. They looked at me like I was crazy."

“I know," Charles said quietly.

“You know?" she repeated.

“News spreads," he said. “By the time I spoke to my father's Beta, everyone already knew you walked into the hall bruised and bleeding and accused your stepmother in front of guests."

“Accused," Daisy echoed.

“They say you were… confused," he said. “That the shock made you talk nonsense."

“I wasn't confused," Daisy snapped. “I was beaten. They tried to tear my clothes off. And when I came home and begged you to believe me, you told me I was tired."

He flinched. “I handled that badly," he admitted. “I was thinking about all the eyes on us. The elders. The visiting Alphas. My father's men. It was… a lot."

“A lot for you," Daisy said. “I was the one who was attacked."

“You're right," he said. “You are. That's actually why I came. We need to talk about what happens now."

Cold slid down her spine.

“What happens now?" she asked.

Charles helped her lie back against the pillows, then pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. He looked strangely formal in the small room.

“I argued with my parents all night," he said. “About you. About our engagement."

Daisy's fingers tightened in the blanket. “Argued about what?"

“About whether the marriage should go on," he said quietly.

Her heart thudded.

He went on. “They heard how you disappeared before the party. How you came back looking… like that. How you spoke in the hall. To them, it means you can't control yourself. A Luna, they say, must be calm and gentle. Someone who doesn't make waves."

“I nearly lost my life," Daisy said. “That's different."

“I told them that," he said. “I told them you were attacked. That you were pushed past your limit. But my father is an Alpha. He thinks about reputation. The elders think about what other packs will say. They don't want trouble."

“So?" Daisy asked. “They want to delay the wedding?"

Charles looked down at his hands.

“They want to cancel it," he said.

The room seemed to tilt.

“Cancel," Daisy repeated.

“They think tying Thunder Storm to you now is too risky," Charles said. “They say you'll bring more scenes like the one in the hall."

“You told them no," Daisy said. “You reminded them I'm your fated mate."

“I did," he said. “I told them the Moon Goddess chose you for me. That my wolf needs you. My father listened. Then he said, 'An Alpha who lets his Luna shame him in public will lose the pack.'"

“And then?" Daisy asked.

“They proposed another option," he said. “Rosalie."

Of course.

“Say it," Daisy whispered.

“They say Rosalie would make a better Luna," he said. “She's gentle. Everyone likes her. She smiles and makes people comfortable. She has never raised her voice in public."

Daisy gave a short, bitter laugh. “Everyone likes her," she said. “Right."

“I refused at first," Charles said quickly. “I told them I wouldn't abandon my mate. I told them I would never accept anyone else as Luna."

“And they listened?" Daisy asked.

“They reminded me who I am," he said. “The future Alpha. They said if I hold onto you, I'll drag Thunder Storm into more scandal. They pressed. The elders pressed. I can't ignore all of them."

“So you agreed," Daisy said.

He hesitated, then said, “They will not bless our marriage."

She stared at him. The mate bond fluttered weakly, as if it too had a fever.

“So you came to end it," she said. “To tell me it's over."

“No," he said quickly. He leaned closer, eyes intent. “That's what I'm trying to say—it doesn't have to be over. There's a way we can both get what we need."

Her stomach tightened. “What do you mean?"

“A compromise," he said. “My parents insist I marry someone like Rosalie in public. If I fight them, I tear the pack apart. But I also can't give you up. My wolf won't let me. So… I found a way to keep both."

Her fingers went cold.

“Both," she repeated. “How?"

“I marry Rosalie," Charles said carefully. “Officially. She becomes Luna. The elders are satisfied. The alliance with your pack is even stronger. No one questions Thunder Storm."

He watched her face.

“And me?" Daisy asked.

“You stay with me," he said. “Not as Luna in front of the elders, but as the one who truly matters. The one I share the bond with, even if Rosalie wears the title."

Her chest went tight.

“In what way 'stay with you'?" she asked.

He reached for her hand, fingers closing gently over her bruised knuckles.

“You become my mistress," he said softly. “You live in Thunder Storm. Your own rooms, your own servants. No one there will dare touch you. I'll protect you. You won't have to obey your father or your stepmother again. You'll have me."

Mistress.

The word struck like a blow.

For a heartbeat Daisy thought she had misheard him. The fever hummed in her ears; the room tilted. Surely he had said something else.

But his expression was calm, almost relieved, as if he had just offered her a gift.

Heat surged up her neck. Humiliation burned through her, quick and hot. Warehouse concrete under her cheek, guests staring at her torn dress, her father's voice calling her a disgrace—all of it flashed by and then fixed on the man in front of her.

She had clung to him minutes ago like he was the only safe place left in the world.

And this was what that safe place looked like: a quiet room, kind eyes, and an offer to keep her in the dark.

“What did you say?" Daisy whispered.

He didn't pull back. “In public, I stand beside Rosalie," he said. “I do what an Alpha must. In private, you and I stay together. We keep the bond. You feel it, Daisy. When we're together, everything is stronger. I can't reach my full power without you. This way, we don't throw that away."

“So Rosalie gets the name," Daisy said slowly. “The respect. The right to stand beside you. And I get to hide in the shadows and wait for you to visit."

“It wouldn't be like that," he said quickly. “You're twisting it. You'd live well. Better than here. People would know you belong to me."

“Except they would," she said. “Because I'd be the Alpha's mistress."

“Things are not that simple," Charles said. “In an Alpha house, status is what the Alpha says it is. I can make sure you are treated well. You'd be safe. You'd be with me. That's more than anyone else can give you now."

“Now," Daisy repeated. “What do you mean 'now'?"

He hesitated. “Be honest," he said. “After what happened, after the way you came into that hall, your reputation is damaged. No other Alpha will want you as Luna. Thunder Storm is still willing to claim you. I am still willing to claim you. I'm offering you the best path left."

Best path left.

Daisy stared at him.

She remembered the boy who had once brought her stolen pastries from the kitchen, who had stood between her and a training partner twice her size, who had promised he would always stand with his Luna.

She had believed that boy.

Looking at him now, she realized with a cold, dizzy clarity that she had never truly known the man behind the golden eyes. She had seen the version of Charles she needed to see. This Charles talked about “paths" and “reputation" and the worth of a girl whose body other hands had already bruised. This Charles weighed her on a scale and decided she was still useful enough to keep, as long as she stayed out of sight.

“You think I should be grateful," she said. Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. “Grateful that after my place is handed to Rosalie, I still get a corner in your life."

His brows drew together. “It's not about gratitude," he said. “It's about reality. You escape this house. You escape your father. You'll have wealth, protection, me. Rosalie gets the public role she wants. The pack is stable. No one has to lose everything."

No one, she thought, except me.

He spread his free hand, as if the argument were simple. “I'm trying to give you something instead of nothing," he finished quietly. “This is the only way I see for us to stay together."

He meant it. She could see that. He truly believed he had brought her something kind.

Something in Daisy slid into place—cold and sharp.

“You think," she said slowly, “that I would ever agree to that."

For a moment, silence filled the small room. Charles watched her, waiting for the anger to pass, waiting—she could see it—for the desperate girl who had clung to him to return and say yes.

But the words that wanted to tear out of her—No; I would rather be alone; I would rather sever the bond—caught behind her teeth.

Her fingers were still trapped in his hand. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the steady strength in his grip, and underneath it the mate bond tugging weakly, begging her not to let go.

Daisy did not pull away.

She also did not nod. She did not plead. She did not thank him for his mercy.

She only sat there, staring at the man she had thought she knew, while the shape of him blurred and broke apart in her mind.

Her throat ached with unshed words.

She didn't speak.

Her silence was the only thing holding her together.