Betrayed and Saved by Love

Chapter Three: Bastian: My Life

!Mature content!

Bastian’s POV

The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light over the vast expanse of my family’s kingdom. The Royal Pack stretched across miles of rugged wilderness—ancient forests, jagged cliffs, and rivers that carved their way through the land. It was a kingdom built on strength, a legacy passed down through generations of Alpha Kings.

And one day, it will be mine.

I leaned against the stone balcony of my private floor, the crisp Montana air biting against my bare chest. Below, the distant glow of lights from the pack village flickered like stars, wolves moving through the streets, living their lives under my father’s rule.

Alpha King Aaron Prescott. A name that carried weight. Power. A legacy.

And I, Bastian Louis Prescott, was next in line.

I was born and raised to be the perfect heir. Trained in combat since I could walk, taught diplomacy before I could fully grasp its meaning, burdened with expectations that never allowed room for failure. At 21, I had already proven myself on the battlefield, fought beside my father, commanded warriors, and won.

But there was one battle I had never been able to fight. One thing I have never been able to find.

My mate.

Three years. It had been three years since I turned 18 and met my wolf, Ares—a massive beast cloaked in black fur, his eyes burning like molten gold. We had searched for her. Traveled across packs, attended gatherings, waited for the moment her scent would wrap around us and pull us in.

But she had never come. I had stopped hoping. I had stopped believing.

Tonight, I would take what the Moon Goddess had denied me.

I turned from the balcony and walked back into my room, the scent of soft vanilla and jasmine curling in the air. Stacy, a she-wolf from the pack, sitting on my bed, her body adorned in nothing but pink lace.

She looked at me with hunger.

“I was waiting for you, my Prince,” she whispered, her voice a sweet temptation. “Come here.”

I exhaled sharply, raking a hand through my hair.

I wasn’t a saint. I wasn’t pure.

But I waited. Waited for something real—for the bond that was supposed to define my existence.

And yet, nothing. No whispers of fate. No pull of destiny. Nothing but a void where my mate should have been.

So tonight, I will fill it.

“Don’t do this, you bastard,” Ares growled in my head, his voice a low snarl. “This is a mistake. Don’t do this to our mate! You will regret it.”

I scoffed. "Mate? What mate? She's not coming, Ares. If the Moon Goddess wanted me to have one, I would have found her by now."

He growled but didn’t argue. And so, I let myself forget.

I crossed the room, my hands already moving to remove my shirt, the anticipation burning in Stacy’s eyes.

She smiled, reaching for me.

"Lay down." My voice was low, edged with something dark. Something restless.

Stacy obeyed immediately, sinking into the mattress beneath her, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. The hunger in her eyes was evident, her body already flushed with heat. She wanted me. She thought this was about her.

She was wrong.

I climbed over her, my hands bracing on either side of her head, my muscles tight with tension I couldn’t quite shake. Her scent was thick in the air—sweet, inviting—but it didn’t soothe me. Nothing did.

I kissed her, hard and unyielding, demanding her submission. She gasped against my lips, her fingers gripping my shoulders, but I wasn’t gentle. My hand slid to her throat, not squeezing, just holding, just feeling the rapid pulse that drummed beneath my palm.

This wasn’t about love. It was about control. About forgetting.

Her body arched as I kissed down her neck, my teeth grazing over her sensitive skin. My hands moved without thought, roaming, claiming, possessing. She moaned beneath me, eager, desperate, but none of it reached me. None of it settled the storm raging inside my chest.

I pulled away just long enough to rid us of the remaining barriers between us. Stacy spread her legs, already trembling with anticipation, her lips parting to plead for me.

I silenced her with my mouth, devouring her, taking what I wanted—what I needed—without hesitation. She writhed against me, her cries sharp and breathless, her body offering itself without resistance.

“My Prince,” she moaned, fingers clutching at my hair. “Please—”

“Not yet,” I muttered, my voice hoarse.

I dragged my lips up the inside of her thigh, savoring the way she trembled. My fingers traced the slick heat of her, teasing, testing. She whimpered, hips rolling up to meet me.

She was ready.

I reached for the foil packet on my nightstand, tearing it open with my teeth. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes, a satisfied smirk on her lips like she thought this meant something. Like she thought she meant something.

I rolled the condom over my length, positioning myself between her thighs. She bit her lip, her hands trailing up my chest, her breath coming faster.

"Now," she whispered. "Please."

I plunged into her without hesitation, burying myself deep in one swift, unforgiving thrust.

She gasped, her nails digging into my back. I didn’t give her time to adjust. I took what I needed, moving with relentless force, my grip bruising against her hips.

She moaned, wrapping her legs around my waist, meeting me stroke for stroke. But this wasn’t for her.

It was for me.

To silence the noise in my head. To forget the fact that my mate wasn’t out there. To erase the gnawing emptiness that had become my shadow since the day I turned eighteen.

I drove into her harder, chasing the high, chasing the relief I knew would be temporary at best. Sweat slicked our bodies, the room filled with the sharp sounds of skin meeting skin, the ragged breaths, the mindless pleas tumbling from her lips.

Her walls tightened around me, her cries breaking into incoherent gasps as she came undone beneath me. But I didn’t slow.

I chased my own release like a starved man, my pace turning punishing, ruthless. My muscles burned, the pressure building, tightening—until I let go, spilling into the condom with a low, guttural groan.

For a long moment, I hovered over her, my breaths ragged, my body still trembling with the aftermath.

And then it was gone.

The frustration. The restlessness. The need.

Gone.

I pulled out, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling as I caught my breath. Stacy curled into my side, running her nails lazily over my chest.

I moved away.

“I have training in the morning,” I muttered, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

She hesitated, watching me. “I could stay,” she offered softly, her voice hopeful.

I almost laughed.

Instead, I grabbed my sweatpants, pulling them on before turning to her with a pointed look. “You should go.”

She flinched—just barely—but I caught it.

A flicker of pain crossed her face before she masked it with a tight smile. “Of course, my Prince,” she said smoothly, gathering her things.

I watched as she dressed, waiting until the door clicked shut behind her before letting out a heavy breath.

The room was quiet now. Too empty.

I ran a hand over my face, my frustration still simmering beneath my skin. The release had been temporary, fleeting. It always was.

Because no matter how many women I took to my bed, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself I didn’t need her—

I was still waiting for a mate who would never come.

I woke up the next morning alone. Stacy was gone, just as I had told her to be.

She looked hurt when I asked her to leave, but I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She wasn’t my fated mate, and she would never be my Chosen Mate, never be my Queen. One night did not entitle her to more, and I refused to let her believe otherwise.

I exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down my face before rolling out of bed. The air was crisp, the morning light filtering through my windows, illuminating the room in golden streaks. The sheets still carried the faint scent of her perfume—sweet, floral, but already fading.

It meant nothing.

I strode into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Steam curled around me, the hot water washing away the remnants of the night before. But no amount of cleansing could rid me of the emptiness curling in my chest.

It was time for breakfast.

The moment I stepped into the grand dining hall, the scent of freshly baked bread, roasted meats, and brewed coffee enveloped me. The warmth of the hearth crackled in the background, casting a soft amber glow across the long mahogany table where my family sat.

Laughter filled the air. My mother, Queen Melissa, elegant as ever, sipped her tea with a knowing smile. My father, the Alpha King, sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding as always, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine the moment I entered.

And just like that, the laughter stopped.

The conversation hushed, my siblings exchanging glances.

I exhaled. “Good morning.” I leaned down, pressing a kiss to my mother’s head before taking my seat.

My father cleared his throat, his deep voice breaking through. “I know what you did last night.”

My entire body tensed.

“I won’t scold you for it, Bastian,” he continued, his expression unreadable. “But I hope you were careful. The last thing you need is a situation you can’t control.”

Shame burned through me. Not because of what I had done.

But because a part of me had wanted it to mean something.

And it hadn’t. It never would.

My mother set down her cup, her lips twitching in amusement. “Don’t be too hard on him, my love. I recall a certain Alpha King who wasn’t exactly an innocent saint before he met me.”

My father coughed into his drink.

My younger brother, Malcolm Louis, let out a loud cackle, nearly choking on his toast. At only fourteen, he was already nearly my height, built broad and strong, his black hair as unruly as my own, his piercing blue eyes filled with mischief.

Léna Mary, my eighteen-year-old sister, rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her juice. She had always taken after our mother—petite, blonde, with a deceptively sweet face hiding a razor-sharp wit. “You’re such an i***t,” she muttered.

On the opposite side of the table, Olivia Mary and Phillip Louis, my eight-year-old twin siblings, blinked in confusion, their matching blue eyes darting between our parents. Olivia, delicate and blonde like our mother, wrinkled her nose, while Phillip, who shared my dark hair, merely grinned, clearly enjoying the moment.

My mother arched a perfectly shaped brow toward me. “I certainly hope you washed yourself properly, Bastian.”

Heat crawled up my neck.

“If you didn’t and had the audacity to kiss me this morning,” she continued, smirking, “I swear I will chop off your lips.”

Malcolm snorted. Léna smirked, shaking her head. Olivia and Phillip just looked even more confused.

A sigh slipped past my lips as I reached for a piece of toast, desperate to move on from the topic.

And then—

My father dropped the bomb.

“Bastian, we received an invitation to the Silver Moon Pack for Liliana Knight’s 18th birthday.”

I stilled.

“The daughter of Alpha Luca,” my father continued. “Her first shift will be that night, and he has personally invited our family to attend. Unfortunately, I have a meeting with the Elders that I cannot reschedule. So, you and your mother will attend in my place.”

I frowned. Silver Moon Pack. Alpha Luca.

I met him once, years ago. My father had told me the story—how Alpha Luca and his warriors had fought alongside him, helping him reclaim his throne after my uncle tried to overthrow him.

Without them, my father wouldn’t be here. Without them, I wouldn’t be here.

“Her birthday is next month,” my father added. “You’ll stay for the weekend.”

I nodded slowly. That was fine. I didn’t mind.

But then—

Something shifted.

Deep inside me, Ares stirred.

His ears perked up, his golden eyes flashing behind my own. “Liliana,” he murmured, his voice thick with intrigue. “Liliana Knight. I like that name.”

A strange feeling curled in my gut.

No.

I saw her before—once.

Four years ago. I had just turned eighteen, and she was still just a child. Her scent should have lingered, should have pulled at me even then if she was mine.

But it hadn’t. She wasn’t my mate. She couldn’t be. Right?

Ares huffed but didn’t respond.

My father’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Your mother has already chosen a gift for her—a set of diamond jewelry. If you want to add something more personal, you should.”

I barely heard him. All I could think about was her name.

Liliana.

Why did it feel so… important?

I swallowed hard.

For the first time in years, my heart pounded for something other than battle.

I didn’t know why.

But I was suddenly counting down the days.