CHAPTER TWO

"Done!" I exclaim into the wall of my room, grinning at my phone while letting my feet dangle in the air as I lie on my stomach. I've just finished the latest book in the Lord series by Shantel Tessier. When I came up to my room, I received a notification about its release and couldn't resist taking a peek, only to end up reading the whole thing.

Checking the time on the clock on my nightstand, my eyes widen. I didn't realize so much time had passed while I was engrossed in the story. Hastily, I shoot out of bed, heading to my closet to change. I hope the party isn't already over.

I slip into a colorful flowing line of embroidery, a strapless pink tulle dress with a twisted, draped bust. Stepping out of the closet, I check my phone for any missed calls from my family, and to my utmost surprise, there are none. I've been gone for a while, so I'm a little shocked they haven't called asking where I was. I try Caleb's cell to ask him how the party is going, but it goes straight to voicemail. Attempting a mind-link, I get no response. Maybe he's busy with his mate or something and has closed his link, not wanting to be disturbed. I quickly put on my shoes and head to the ballroom, praying that Dad and Mom won't have my head for disappearing for so long.

As I make my way to the ballroom, an intoxicating scent assaults my senses, a potent blend of earthy notes that transport me to the heart of the rainforest. It's unlike anything I've ever smelt, so much so that it immediately triggers Marie, my wolf, to open our connection.

“Oh heavens, it’s happening,” she exclaims, her excitement mirroring my own.

"Do you truly believe he's here?" I inquire, a surge of anticipation pulsating through my veins, urging me to hasten my steps. The prospect of discovering his identity sparks my curiosity – is he the son of an Alpha, or could he be an Alpha himself? The excitement building within me threatens to overflow.

"Yes, it's becoming more potent, Amelia. Pick up the pace," Marie urges, seizing control and guiding me forward.

"Finally," I breathe with a mixture of relief and excitement as I swing the door open to the ballroom.

A guttural scream tears through me the moment I swing the door open. Time stands still as I freeze, my gaze fixated on the floor transformed into a morbid canvas of crimson. The edge of my dress swiftly becomes saturated, the sheer volume of blood evident everywhere. Oh, Heavens! What in the world is happening? The shock courses through me, a surreal disconnection between the blissful anticipation of finding my mate and the horrifying reality before my eyes.

I can't fathom how I missed the smell of blood on my way over. But how could I have? My senses were ensnared by the alluring fragrance of my mate, leaving me oblivious to the pervasive stench of blood saturating the ballroom.

"Amelia, run, get out of here!" Dad's desperate scream forces my gaze upward. The scene that unfolds is a nightmare etched in crimson – a sea of lycans with their bodies adorned with the damning evidence of blood. My heart sinks as I hazard a guess that some of that blood belongs to the werewolves strewn across the floor. Yet, that is only the surface of the horror.

A lycan, distinguishable among the blood-soaked crowd, drives his claws into Dad's chest with lethal intent, aiming for his heart. But this isn't just any lycan; it's my...

"Mate," Marie and I utter in unison, our eyes widening at the shocking truth. The weight of the revelation hangs heavily in the air. 

"Run, Amelia, run," Dad pleads once more, his voice a desperate echo. 

My mate turns away from my father, his eyes lock onto mine. The anger in his gaze is unlike anything I've ever witnessed, sending a shiver down my spine. My hair stands on end as he leisurely digs his claws deeper, savoring the gruesome act of extracting my father's heart. 

My own heart clenches in my chest, disbelief and horror intertwining within me. This can't be happening – my mate is killing my father, the very person I've been yearning for all these years. In this harrowing moment, the belief that I am cursed takes root within me. Tears well up, blurring my vision, but now is not the time for despair.

I shake my head, pushing the tears back. This is the moment to act, to save my father, even if it means confronting and hurting the very mate I've been longing for. Ignore the conflicting emotions within me, and with a steely mind, I take decisive action.

“No!” Marie's agonized scream echoes through my head as I swiftly transform into my white wolf, leaping through the air and charging at my mate. In a sudden, jarring halt, I crash to the ground, creating a deep dent in the marble floor of the ballroom, whimpering in searing pain. I don't need to be told to realize that a witch must be manipulating my fate, halting the flow of my blood to my heart.

Without a moment's hesitation, I revert to my human form, disregarding the vulnerability of my nakedness in the presence of lycans. The urgency to save my father eclipses any concern for modesty. My instincts kick in, and I snatch a nearby tablecloth, sending cups and plates crashing to the ground as I hastily wrap it around my body.

I pant, facing my mate, chest heaving with rapid breaths. Tremors course through my body as I lock eyes with him. The weight of the impending actions I am about to take hangs heavily in the air, but there's no choice – I'm outnumbered, and saving my father demands drastic measures.

With a determined resolve, I prepare myself for the unthinkable, knowing it's the only recourse to save my father in this dire moment. 

"Please, stop!" I cry out, collapsing to my knees. The gasp that ripples through the room is ignored; nothing eclipses the urgency of saving my father, not even my pride and honor as a princess.  

"I command you to stand this minute, Amelia! Never kneel for the enemy!" Dad yells, but I remain steadfast, ignoring him.

"Please," I beg again, bowing my head in submission. I clench my fists, forcing my body to hold its position. My own claws dig into my skin, blood trickling down to the floor. In that moment, I notice severed heads around me and a vast pool of blood beneath my knees – hearts ripped out of chests, some drained pale. The gruesome sight overwhelms me, and I can't hold back the wave of nausea that rises, expelling my dinner onto the blood-decorated floor. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, lifting my head to meet the gaze of my mate. I wish I hadn't, for in the blink of an eye, I'm lifted off the ground, the back of my head colliding with a wall as my mate presses me into it, hands tightening around my neck.

My eyes widen in terror as the stark reality sets in – he's choking me. Unbelievably, my own mate is laying hands on me, attempting to end my life. The struggle for breath intensifies, and panic takes hold as I grapple with the realization that the one I had longed for has turned into a threat, and I am fighting for my own survival.

With adrenaline surging through me, I hastily position my hand above his, attempting to pry his fingers away as my legs kick desperately in the air. I feel sparks as our skin touches, but I couldn't care less because, in a matter of seconds, he would choke me to death. 

"Another one," he snarls in a thick British accent, his eyes ablaze with hatred. My heart clenches at the realization that it must have been one of my people, or worse, my mother, lying unconscious beside my brother. The weight of the loss crashes over me, and my lower lip quivers as I begin to sob. I can't comprehend that they are gone too.

I tear my eyes away from the gruesome scene around me, the pressure around my neck escalating. Desperation fuels my struggle to free myself, nails digging into his hands in a futile attempt to loosen the grip, even if it means drawing blood. His hands remain unyielding, a vise around my throat. With each passing second, my access to air diminishes, and my lungs plead for oxygen. The struggle for breath is becoming more desperate by the moment.

Determined to find a way out, I decide to appeal to the mate bond. Locking eyes with him, I plead silently, hoping the connection between us will stir some compassion. Instead, the opposite occurs. I feel my soul slowly slipping away, the veins on my face threatening to burst at any moment.

“You could have looked like anyone else,” he seethes, tightening his grip with knuckles whitening further. “Any fucking one.” The pressure intensifies, my face growing paler. It's unfathomable that my mate, the one bound to me by fate, is on the brink of taking my life. “Why the fuck did it have to be you with this face?” he roars, releasing his grip abruptly, flinging me across the room.

My body collides with chairs and tables, the impact shattering them in my chaotic descent. A thud resonates as I finally land, every inch of my body aching and blistered from the force of the throw. Blood fills my lungs, and I involuntarily spit it out, coughing violently over the blood-stained floor. Gasping for air, I wipe my mouth clean and glance up, only to see him approaching with an unrestrained fury that causes the ground to vibrate beneath his forceful strides. The sight sends a shiver down my spine. The rattling of chairs and tables echoes the intensity of his rage. Panic sets in, and my survival instincts kick in. I scramble to find anything that could serve as a makeshift weapon, fully aware that I can't shift and unmasking my scent would jeopardize my safety. In this moment of dire vulnerability, I cling to the hope that a weapon will provide the defense I need.

With great effort, I spot a plank of wood nearby and start to crawl toward it, the blood-slicked floor making every movement challenging. Despite the difficulty, I inch forward, determined to reach the potential makeshift weapon. However, before I can grasp it, Nickolas intercepts me. My fingers barely brush the plank as he seizes me by the back of my neck, lifting me off the ground. Panic sets in, and I struggle in his grip, screaming for him to release me.

The desperate pleas pause as the unmistakable sounds of crashing waves fill the air. A sudden realization strikes – a witch is teleporting here.

My mate releases his grip, and I plummet to the ground with a resounding thud. Agony courses through my body as I bite down on my bottom lip, attempting to stifle the pain. Amid the suffering, a chilling realization seizes me, draining all color from my face. Only one witch could be teleporting right now.

"Go back!" I scream desperately at Alissa, Caleb's mate and my best friend, a half-witch and werewolf. She must have felt the anguish of her mate's death and rushed to our location. However, my plea comes too late, and Alissa materializes.

"Caleb!" she screams, rushing to his side on the ground. I catch a glimpse from my peripheral vision of my mate sprinting towards them, and I unleash the loudest scream of my life. 

"Alissa, shield now!" The urgency in my voice resonates through the room, my throat burning as the words echo loudly. Confusion etches Alissa's face as her eyes dart to me, but she reacts swiftly upon seeing my mate dangerously close to grabbing her. Instantly, she erects a transparent shield around herself, my brother, and my parents. The impact sends my mate hurtling backward, crashing into chairs and tables with each contact. The room vibrates with the force of the collision.

A breath of relief escapes my lips, imagining the catastrophic outcome if Alissa hadn't reacted swiftly enough to shield herself from my mate. The haunting thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I forcefully shake it away, unwilling to dwell on the grim possibilities.

“What’s going on?” Alissa asks, her horrified eyes scanning the gruesome scene around her.

“It appears the lycan lied to us. They never wanted peace between our kinds. They just needed a way to enter the castle without being stopped. You need to leave now! Please leave,” It didn't take me long to put two and two together.

“I can’t leave you,” she responds, her voice laden with emotion, as my mate relentlessly pounds on the shield surrounding her.

“I will be fine. He’s my mate,” I assure her, only to be interrupted by a sudden fit of coughing that expels blood, my ribs aching in pain.

Alissa's eyes widen in terror. “No!”

“I will be fine. Don’t worry.”

“He looks like he will kill you, Amelia. Come closer so we can go together.”

“I can’t. Once you take down that shield, we both know what’s gonna happen. Leave now before he breaks the shield. You’re not strong enough to hold on for long. Leave!” I scream, witnessing the shield around her rattle as my mate continues to assault it relentlessly.

“I will come back for you, Amelia. Wait for me,” Alissa says, tears streaming down her face. She creates a portal and pulls my brother through it, returning for my father and mother. Returning one last time, she says, “Wait for me,” and then closes the portal.

An earth-shattering growl, unimaginable for a lycan, erupts through the room, almost cracking the walls. I press my palm into the ground to steady myself. Lifting my eyes, I lock them with those of my mate, the source of the primal growl. He stares at me, panting hard, his eyes burning into my very soul. I don't dare to test if the mate bond could quell his rage, and I begin to crawl away, holding my stomach, knowing escape is my only chance at survival.

My escape attempt fails miserably as my mate seizes me by the hair, his fingers tight and unyielding as he lifts me off the ground. Pain shoots through my scalp as he turns me to face him, his grip intensifying. I flinch at the overwhelming rage emanating from him. In this proximity, I can take in his features without the threat of imminent danger.

His emerald-colored eyes, filled with fury, captivate me, revealing a breathtaking beauty beneath the rage. Long, full lashes fan his face. His features are meticulously shaped – a straight nose full and perfectly arched brows. He appears to be in his late thirties or early forties. Despite the fury and brutality, there's no denying the undeniable truth – he is the most handsome man I had ever laid my eyes on.

“You will pay for that, bitch,” he seethes.

"I'm not sorry," I defiantly spit out.

"You will be," he vows, and with a sudden, brutal twist, he snaps my neck, sending me into unconsciousness.