Mated with a human

chapter 5

Gerald & Cillian – In the Study

Gerald entered the study first, silent and stormy. He didn’t look back, didn’t slow down. He went straight to the small bar in the corner, grabbed the whiskey bottle, and poured himself a glass—ice clinking sharply in the quiet room. His shoulders were rigid, his jaw locked.

Behind him, Cillian slipped inside and closed the door. Tears clung to her lashes, but she tried to breathe, steadying herself.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Gerald cut her off—voice low, controlled, but dangerous.

“Dyran is really tempting me,” he said, still facing the bar. “After all of this… do you still think he’s worth being king after me?”

Cillian froze.

Gerald didn’t give her time to answer.

“That is not how a king behaves. A king listens when he is told something. But your son…” His hand tightened around the glass. “He fails to listen to me as his father. Tell me, Cillian—do you honestly think he will listen to the council? To the elders? Let me answer for you. The answer is a big… no.”

A tear slid down Cillian’s cheek. She swallowed the pain and whispered, voice trembling, “So just because he makes mistakes, you think that gives you the right to kill him? In front of me? In front of his sister? Gerald… since when did you become this ruthless with your own family? Your own blood? Huh?”

Gerald breathed out slowly, shoulders deflating just a little. “You know very well, Cillian, that if I wanted him dead, I wouldn’t wait for you to be there. I could do it anytime.”

Those words stabbed her.

She took a shaky step closer.

“That’s your son,” she said firmly through her tears. “There’s nothing you can do—nothing—that will take him away from me. He has a purpose. He has a future. He is meant to be the next king.”

Gerald scoffed. A short, cold sound. He finally lifted the whiskey to his lips.

“There is no way he’s going to be the next king,” he said. “I can choose someone else.”

Cillian’s brows knitted tightly. Her voice sharpened. “Who is that person?”

Gerald didn’t answer.

His eyes flickered… and his mind drifted away.

---

Flashback

A soft room filled with afternoon light.

A woman sat on a bed, her back against the headboard. Her belly—round and full with pregnancy—rose under her hands. Her face… stunning. Flawless. The kind of beauty that calmed storms.

Gerald lay with his head resting gently on her stomach, listening to the heartbeat inside. A rare, tender smile softened his usually stern features.

“I want our son to be king after me,” he murmured, eyes half-closed.

The woman’s smile faded slightly. She brushed her fingers through his hair.

“To be king… as in rule every wolf?” she asked, uncertainty slipping into her tone.

Gerald looked up at her with a proud smile. “Yes.”

She parted her lips to respond, but—

A voice cut through the memory.

“Gerald… who are you thinking of?”

Cillian’s voice dragged him back to the present.

His expression shifted—guarded, closed off again. He opened his mouth to respond but—

His phone rang.

He exhaled sharply, annoyance flashing in his eyes.

“I’ll take this,” he muttered.

Without waiting for her, he stepped out of the study, lifting the phone to his ear as he disappeared down the hallway.

....

Dyran – POV

I drove.

Fast.

Reckless.

The trees blurred past me like shadows trying to keep up, but nothing could outrun the rage boiling inside me.

My own father…

My king…

He actually tried to kill me today.

And all because of some humans?

Pathetic.

After what felt like hours, the road finally opened up to the private villa—hidden deep outside the city, a place only a few knew about. The guards saw my car and immediately straightened. The gate swung open; they bowed as I drove past.

Good.

At least someone still remembered who I am.

I stepped out, slamming the car door behind me. The anger inside me pulsed harder with each step toward the house. The moment I entered, I found him—Kyeran—leaning against the counter with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

He raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, I snatched the glass from his fingers and downed half of it. The burn wasn’t enough to calm me. I dropped onto the couch, jaw locked so tightly it hurt.

Kyeran stared for two seconds… then burst out laughing.

“Well damn,” he said with a mocking smirk, “who made our next king this furious? You look like you wanna kill someone.”

The word king hit me like a punch.

My head snapped up, eyes cold enough to freeze blood. Kyeran stopped laughing instantly. He lifted both hands in surrender, stepping back slightly.

“Aight, alright… chill,” he muttered, heading to pour himself another drink.

I scoffed, leaning back.

“Not even sure I’m still going to be appointed king after what happened today.”

Kyeran paused mid-pour.

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly. “You’re the only son. Unless…” His eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Unless there’s another son we don’t know about?”

His words hit a strange nerve.

For a split second—just a blink—I questioned it.

My father had been acting… off lately.

But no. Impossible.

I took another long sip and shook my head.

“There’s no son. I’m the only heir.”

Kyeran returned to the couch, this time without the teasing smile. He sat forward, lowering his voice.

“I heard your father found out about that little… game we had with those humans.” He shrugged. “I thought we covered our tracks damn well.”

I snorted.

“If he wants to know something, he’ll dig until he finds it. We can’t outsmart him.”

Kyeran sighed. “Yeah. The king is something else.”

Silence stretched—a cold, heavy one.

Then he suddenly clapped his hands once, loud, changing the energy.

“Anyway,” he said, standing, “there’s a party tonight. You need to blow off some steam, man. Sitting here looking like you wanna murder everyone won’t help you. Come on—let’s go get ready.”

He headed for the stairs.

I stared at his back for a moment… then pushed myself up and followed.

A party wouldn’t fix anything.

But maybe it would distract me long enough to keep me from ripping someone’s throat out.

..

The sky had been clear just moments before, but suddenly the clouds burst open and rain came crashing down like a waterfall.

“Ah! Seriously?!” Jayson shouted, laughing as he grabbed Sofia’s hand.

Sofia burst into a laugh too, the cold rain splashing against her face.

They ran down the road together, sneakers slapping against the wet pavement, dodging puddles and cars, their laughter echoing through the empty street.

At the junction, Jayson pulled her into a quick hug, shouting over the rain:

“Text me when you get home!”

“You too!” she yelled back, waving as they each ran their separate ways.

By the time Sofia reached home, she looked like someone had dumped a whole bucket of water on her.

Her hair dripping.

Her clothes sticking to her skin.

Her shoes squishing with each step.

The front door swung open and her aunt stood there with her hands on her hips.

“Oh my GOD, Sofia!” she exclaimed. “Do you want to catch a cold?! School is tomorrow! You think you’ll bunk? Never! Where are you even coming from? Didn’t you say you were preparing for school today?!”

Sofia groaned, brushing her wet hair off her face.

“Aunty, I just took a walk. The house was suffocating,” she said breathlessly as she ran upstairs, leaving wet footprints on the tiles.

Her aunt sighed loudly.

“Oh gosh… teenagers…” she muttered, before heading to the kitchen.

Upstairs, Sofia entered her room and immediately stripped off the wet clothes, heading into the bathroom. The hot water hit her skin, steam rising instantly. She closed her eyes, relaxing as the warmth soaked into her muscles.

Within seconds she was singing.

Loudly.

Dramatically.

Then dancing under the shower spray like she was performing on stage. As usual, she took forever—singing, rinsing, singing again, repeating the chorus twice just because she felt like it.

For that moment, everything in her world felt simple again.

---

On the other side , Luke had already reached home long before the rain started. He had been reading on his bed when the sudden thunder made him look up.

He walked to the window and pushed the curtain aside.

The rain was falling heavily—thick, fast, and loud.

The world outside blurred into soft silver lines.

Luke loved it.

He always had.

The night he was born had been exactly like this—rain pouring so heavily that the hospital lights flickered, nurses running around with towels and blankets. He only knew the story through family tales… but he held onto it like a core memory.

His mother had gone through so much pain to bring him into the world.

And she never got to stay.

His chest tightened softly as he watched the water stream down the glass.

He wondered, not for the first time, what she would look like now.

Would she have long hair like his?

Would she laugh loudly or quietly?

Would she be strict, or gentle?

His hand lifted slowly to the pendant resting against his chest.

A tiny silver raindrop.

He touched it gently, fingers tracing its smooth surface.

He smiled faintly.

“She’s always with me,” he whispered to himself.

The rain continued falling, as if agreeing.