The Last Aetherwyn: Mated to the Alpha Prince

Chapter 4

Lyna’s eyes lit up—sharp and delighted. Sirens lived for the hunt, for the pleasure of watching the unsuspecting fall.

“Mm, that’s rather tempting,” she purred, her smile turning predatory, pearly-sharp teeth catching the light. “Though I won’t be the one feasting…” Her expression softened into a pout before her gaze narrowed with curiosity. “But I am curious—why use human girls when we sirens, could do it ourselves without even batting an eyelash?”

“I have my reasons,” Isaldora replied with a light shrug. “Besides, I don’t want the prey becoming cautious. Sirens are… intimidating, and I prefer them lulled before the strike.”

A glimmer of something darker flickered in her eyes. “But when the time comes for you to actually feed, you’ll be the first to know.”

Lyna’s lips curled wider at that, unmistakably pleased. “I’ll be waiting.”

“So, that’s an agreement.” Isaldora tilted her head slightly, her tone smooth with the faintest trace of tease. “Should we sign another contract?”

She clearly noticed the change in Lyna’s face which was immediate—her smile vanished, and a sharp hiss slipped past her teeth. “Don’t insult me. You’ve already bound me in blood. There’s no need to twist the blade of distrust.”

Isaldora concealed her smile, she clearly meant to tease the siren and adding to her satisfaction Lyna was clearly oblivious by it.

Sirens were prideful creatures and they lived by it. They would bend the seas before they bent their honor. And Lyna… Lyna had already sworn her loyalty to Isaldora. That much was unshakable. Still she didn’t tend Lyna's pride with an answer. Instead, her smirk deepened—controlled, yet with the faintest thread of acknowledgment hidden within.

She turned away, ready to vanish, but Lyna’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Queen of Aetherwyn,”

The words stopped her mid-step.

The title hung in the air between them like a shard of glass.

“You should know, we sirens don’t break our word.” Lyna said, her voice low but steady, “We can be treacherous, yes— but never to those we’ve sworn ourselves to. Our oaths run deeper than blood… older than the tides themselves.” There was pride in the way she said it.

Isaldora listened to her quietly.

“Betrayal to an enemy is sport. Betrayal to the one we serve…” her voice thinned, almost dangerous, “…is death to us.” Lyna lifted her chin slightly, conviction anchoring every word. “Aetherwyn knew that. And so do you.”

Isaldora glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Lyna’s across the stillness.

“I know,” she said quietly after a moment. The ocean lapped gently at their feet, filling the silence. “But I don’t trust anyone anymore.”

The wind tugged at her silver blonde strands. Her voice dropped, flat and stripped of warmth.

“And I’m no queen.”

The air seemed to shift—then she was gone, swallowed by the night and the sound of the ocean.

Lyna stood in the quiet that followed, her expression impossible to read.

After a moment, she stepped to the water’s edge. Without hesitation, she dove into the water, breaking the surface with barely a ripple. The ocean closed over her, and she vanished into the depths like a shadow sinking out of sight.

——

"Arghhhhhh!" The rogue’s scream ripped through the dungeon, raw and desperate. Silver chains dug into his skin, burning deep. Melted silver hissed as it sank into his veins, making his body jolt and twist. The air was heavy with the smell of blood and burnt flesh.

Across the cell, another rogue sat chained to the wall. His breath came fast and shallow, eyes wide, locked on his partner’s twitching body. His legs trembled so badly the chains rattled. He’d been forced to watch from the start—every second, every sound, every smell sinking into him like poison.

Standing over him was a man whose presence commanded the room. Power rolled off him in waves. His shirt clung just enough to show the hard, carved lines of muscle underneath, built from years of pure, brutal training—like he’d been built for war and sin in equal measure. Every line of muscle looked carved, like someone had taken their time sculpting him just to make the rest of the world feel underwhelming. His jaw was cut sharp, lips set in a line that hinted at both control and cruelty.

Steel-gray eyes locked on the rogue with an unblinking calm, that dangerous kind of calm—like a storm just waiting to break. And yet… there was a heat to him. The kind of heat that burned slow, dangerous, promising either pleasure or pain—your choice, if he allowed it. A few dark strands of hair had fallen across his brow, making him look even more devilishly perfect, straight out of a sinfully good dream.

Kaelith Duskbane. Damn handsome. Devilishly sculpted. A built like he’d been sculpted by something wicked and proud of it. He wasn’t just the Alpha Prince of Duskhowl in title—he was the nightmare you didn’t want chasing you. Ruthless, sharp, and dangerously clever, he had a habit of making enemies wish they’d just dropped dead before ever crossing his path.

He stood there like he owned the place—because, well, he did.

He crouched in front of the writhing rogue, one bloodied hand gripping the man’s jaw and forcing his head up.

“Why were you in my territory?” His voice was calm—too calm.

The rogue’s breath came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping from his temple. “I—I was just passing—”

The chain at his wrist jerked suddenly, tearing deeper into blistered flesh. The man’s back arched, a strangled cry breaking free before it swelled into another piercing scream.

“Try again.” Kaelith didn’t raise his voice, but the coldness in it made the other rogue flinch from across the cell.

“Why were you in my territory? Who sent you?”

The rogue’s jaw clenched, lips pressed tight. No answer.

Kaelith sighed, almost like he was disappointed in a child too stubborn to learn. Then his hand reached for the blade on the table. It gleamed under the moonlight, its silver edge faintly stained with green. Wolfsbane.

Without warning, he slashed the blade sinking it just below the ribs, slicing sideways with cruel precision. The wolfsbane burned instantly, sending a fresh wave of agony ripping through the rogue’s body. His scream broke into hoarse gasps, chains rattling as he thrashed helplessly.

Kaelith withdrew the blade, wiping the edge on the man’s shirt before pressing the tip into another spot—just enough to pierce the skin and let the poison seep in again. The rogue’s body convulsed violently, foam flecking at the corners of his mouth.

From across the cell, the second rogue’s breathing turned into ragged pants. His shoulders were pressed so far back into the wall.

Kaelith shifted his gaze to him for a moment—and it was enough to make the rogue's head drop in terror. Then he looked back at the prisoner in his grip, tilting his head slightly as if listening for the exact pitch of his pain.

“Still nothing?” he asked with a, what looked like a pout, his voice was quiet. Dangerous.

When the rogue kept silent, Kaelith pressed the blade’s edge slowly along his forearm, peeling skin in a controlled line until the man’s head snapped back and his scream scraped raw from his throat.

The second rogue broke. “We were just told to scout!” The words came out in a rush, high and panicked. “That’s all—we didn't mean harm.”

Kaelith’s lips curved into a devilish smirk. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Now was it?” His tone was mockingly light. “Now… who sent you to snoop around?”

The rogue hesitated, his voice shaking. “If I tell you, will you… will you spare us?”

Kaelith gave a lazy shrug, the kind of answer that wasn’t an answer at all.

“We—we never met them,” the rogue stammered. “I don’t know who they really are.”

Kaelith’s expression cooled instantly, his eyes narrowing just enough to make the rogue stumble over himself.

“But—” he blurted, “I can give you the coordinates of our base.”

That earned him a slow, deadly smirk.

Before Kaelith could speak, his gamma stepped into the cell, bowing his head. “Alpha Prince.”

Without looking, Kaelith flicked his fingers toward his enforcer—a silent order to get the location out of the prisoner. Then he turned his attention to the gamma.

“Your father’s waiting for you,” the gamma said. “And Beta Xavier’s returned.”

Kaelith nodded once before glancing at the rogue, whose eyes now clung to him with desperate hope.

His gaze shifted to his enforcer, the look in his eyes making his meaning crystal clear. The enforcer’s answering nod was sharp before he hauled the rogue to his feet.

“You promised!” the man cried out, voice cracking. “Alpha—you said you’d spare us!”

Kaelith turned, his smile devilishly cold. “And this…” His voice dropped into something lethal. “…is me sparing you.”

He didn’t bother to look back, wiping his hands clean with a cloth as he strode out, the rogue’s pleas already fading into the dark.