Fated to the Lycan Prince

Tethered

A year passed.

Seraphina built a life for herself, piece by fragile piece. She became an expert at blending in. She changed the way she walked, how she spoke, softening the sharpness in her tone. She attended nursing school and even developed feeling for the man that saved her. Little by little she forgot the girl who once scrubbed floors and begged for scraps.

She moved from Ethan’s couch to his bed, not all at once, but in small, unspoken steps. A night here, after a long shift doing clinicals. Another time, when the apartment heater broke and the couch was too cold. Eventually, it became their bed. They never had a moment where it was declared or defined. It just happened.

And Ethan… Ethan was always there. Annoyingly persistent, with that cocky charm and too-big heart. He didn’t push her, didn’t demand pieces of her past. He just… stayed. And over time, the walls Seraphina had built around herself began to crack as she began to love.

As her body grew stronger, fed, sheltered, rested, something else stirred beneath the surface. Something that threatened to take her away from what she was building.

Amelia.

It started small. A prickle under her skin when the moon was high. A pressure behind her eyes, like something watching, waiting.

Seraphina couldn’t hear her, not fully. But she felt her. A constant, simmering presence, restless and wild.

The stronger Seraphina became, the louder that presence grew.

Amelia didn’t like the city. She didn’t like the concrete walls or the way Seraphina forced herself into human routines. And though she couldn’t voice it, Seraphina felt the disapproval. The tension. Like a tether pulling taut, fraying at the edges.

The more time she spent with Ethan, the more that tether strained.

She didn’t tell him. She couldn’t. How do you explain to a human that there’s more to the world than this.

Ethan noticed her growing restlessness.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said one night, flipping a grilled cheese on the stove. “Well, quieter than usual. You okay?”

Seraphina nodded “I’m fine.”

He didn’t press. He never did.

But that night, she found herself on the fire escape, breathing in the cold air like it was the only thing keeping her from drowning. The city pulsed below, cars, lights, noise, but above her, the moon was full, casting a pale glow that made her skin itch.

For a fleeting moment, she felt Amelia. Closer than ever. Fierce and impatient.

“Not now. Please, just go away. I like my life now. It’s one I’ve worked so hard for,” she whispered, unsure if she was speaking to Amelia or herself.

But even as that pull toward the wild grew stronger, Ethan was pulling her back in.

Not in a demanding, pressuring kind of way. He was Ethan. Patient. Infuriatingly considerate. But Seraphina could see it in the way his eyes lingered on her lips, in the tension of his jaw when she curled into him at night. He never said it outright, but he didn’t have to.

He wanted intimacy.

And that terrified her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want it. She did. But the concept of being with someone in that way was so foreign, so utterly beyond her experience, that she didn’t know where to start. She knew how it worked, of course. The pack was never shy about those kinds of things. But it had never been explained to her with kindness, with gentleness. It had always been power dynamics, control, ownership.

Not connection.

So, she did what anyone hopelessly lost in the human world would do.

She asked the internet.

It was supposed to be a simple search, a casual inquiry. But one search turned into ten, which spiraled into a rabbit hole of articles, videos, and forums that made her eyes bug out and her mouth gape open in horror. People actually did those things? With each other? Willingly?

She was so engrossed, so utterly mortified by the absurd amount of information, that she didn’t notice Ethan had come home.

“Enjoying yourself, Mystery Girl?” His voice was a wicked purr behind her.

Seraphina yelped, slamming the laptop shut and nearly toppling off the couch. Her face was on fire, ears burning as she fumbled for words.

“I—I wasn’t—I mean, yes, I was looking, but not like that! I was just—trying to figure it out!” She gestured wildly, frustrated and embarrassed. “I know the basics. I’ve heard people talk. But I’ve never—I’ve never actually—I don’t know how to do it, Ethan.”

The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered.

“I’ve never been with anyone. Ever. The times we’ve kissed are the only times I’ve ever been kissed. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

For a moment, Ethan just stared at her. Then, slowly, he approached.

His hand brushed against her cheek, fingers tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear with a tenderness that made her chest ache.

“We don’t have to rush,” he said softly, his voice dipping into something sincere and deep. “But I need you to know something, Seraphina. I am undeniably attached to you. And your body.”

Her breath caught.

“Every night you sleep next to me,” he continued, “I have to control every physical urge I have. It’s not easy. But I’m not going to push you into anything you’re not ready for.”

His lips curved into a small, wry smile. “Though, if you keep watching those videos, you’re not exactly helping my self-control.”

She wanted to sink into the floor.

But instead, she laughed. For once, she didn’t feel embarrassed by her inexperience. With Ethan, it wasn’t a flaw. It wasn’t a weakness to be exploited. It was simply part of her. And he accepted it.

The tension between them built slowly, day after day, until it became a living thing. A pulse that beat beneath every glance, every accidental brush of skin. It coiled around them in the quiet moments, filling the space between whispered jokes and shared silences.

Ethan never pushed. Never crossed the lines Seraphina wasn’t ready to move. But she saw it. Felt it. The restraint. The way his breath hitched when she leaned against him. The subtle clench of his fists when she curled into his side at night.

It was her choice. Always her choice.

And tonight with Ethan's sister away at college and no one to come around… she wanted it, she wanted him.

The decision came not with fireworks or dramatic declarations, but in the soft press of her hand against his chest as he passed her on his way to the kitchen. The way she didn’t let him go. The way she looked up, caught his gaze, and didn’t look away.

Ethan froze, eyes searching hers.

“Seraphina?” His voice was careful, reverent.

She swallowed. Her heart was a drumbeat in her throat, but her hand didn’t waver. “I want you.”

The weight of those words settled between them, heavy and fragile.

He reached out, fingers ghosting along her jaw, his touch so light it made her shiver. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her answer was barely a breath, but it carried every ounce of her resolve. She was tired of being afraid of things she didn’t understand. Tired of watching life happen from the sidelines.

Ethan kissed her like he’d been holding his breath for a year. His hands framed her face, steady and patient, but his body was taut with restraint. She could feel it, the way he reined himself in, giving her time, space, even now.

But she didn’t want space.

Her fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer until their bodies met in a collision of heat and need. Ethan’s hands found her waist, guiding her down as he sank into the couch, settling her over his lap.

“Seraphina…” he murmured, his voice frayed with restraint.

But she silenced him with a kiss, her lips insistent, desperate. His hands roamed her back, slow at first, then bolder, as if each touch reassured him she wouldn’t vanish. Slowly he work his hands in position and removed her shirt.

His lips trailed down her neck, warm and lingering, making her shiver as he reached the swell of her breasts. She let her head fall back, a soft moan escaping as his mouth found her skin, worshipping each new inch.

She arched into him, pressing closer, feeling his heartbeat pound against hers. The world shrank until it was only this, their breath, their touch, the reckless rhythm of wanting.

He slid her skirt up revealing simple black cotton. As he brushed aside her panties, her gasp was sharp. His fingers traced the delicate folds of her core, exploring with reverence, testing her reactions.

Seraphina’s hands trembled as she pushed at his shoulders, not to stop him, but to anchor herself, to see him. Ethan paused, searching her face, his breath ragged, pupils blown wide with lust.

She answered him with a smile that was half challenge, half invitation.

Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head. She took a moment, letting her hands roam over his chest, memorizing the way his breath hitched beneath her touch.

Ethan’s hands worked at the button of his jeans, his hips lifting just enough to shimmy them down along with his boxers until he was free, his c**k pressing hard along her inner thighs. The heat of him was maddening, a pulse throbbed against her core, soaking her with need.

Ethan grabbed her hips, lifting her slightly, repositioning, aligning them with a care that made her heart ache. His breath was ragged, his restraint fragile as he searched her face one last time.

But the moment their bodies aligned, poised on the edge of no return—

Seraphina’s hands shot to Ethan’s chest, stopping him before he pushed inside her. Her palms pressed flat against his skin, pushing him back with a strength that startled them both. The air shifted, the tension snapping like a frayed wire.

Ethan froze, his eyes wide with confusion and concern. “Seraphina?”

But her heart was pounding out of control, breath shuddering, every nerve alight with a different kind of urgency.

She scrambled off his lap, tugging her skirt down, nearly tripping over her own feet as she backed away from the couch.

“Seraphina?” Ethan’s voice cracked, panic lacing the edge of his words. “I’m sorry—I didn’t, I wasn’t… You stopped. We can stop. Please—don’t run.”

But she couldn’t answer.

The scent had found her.

Not Ethan’s. Not the familiar warmth of sweat and soap.

This was something else. Raw. Wild. Untamed. Earth. Fire. It wrapped around her, coiling through her veins, flooding her senses, making her vision blur as the world tilted beneath her.

Mate.

The word wasn’t a thought. It was a scream.

Amelia surged beneath her skin, clawing, desperate. But Seraphina didn’t want to go to it. She wanted to run from it.

The scent was a beacon, magnetic and merciless, but the fog that had always muffled Amelia’s voice remained. It gave Seraphina a fragile grip on control, kept her feet planted when instinct begged her to surrender.

“I—I’m sorry, Ethan.” Her voice cracked, barely audible, as she stumbled backward. Her body trembled, breath shaking. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t explain. Couldn’t feel without unraveling.

Ethan sat up, shirtless and worried, his face tight with fear. “Seraphina, wait—what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“I can’t.”

She grabbed her shirt, then turned towards the door to run.