Only One

"Lira, enough." 

She crept closer, her heart pounding as she peered through the dense trees. The clearing came into view, dimly lit by the last remnants of dawn's glow, and there—standing too close, much too close—were Adrain and Lira.

His hands were on her arms, holding her steady. Lira, unsteady on her feet, swayed slightly, her usually sharp gaze hazy.

"Let me go, please," Lira muttered, pushing at his chest weakly. "I don't need your help."

"You drank too much last night," Adrain's voice was taut, concerned. "You're barely standing, and you're in no condition to leave by yourself."

Lira let out a breathy, exasperated laugh. "I'm fine, Alpha."

"You're not," he countered, firm but not harsh. "You need rest, and I'm making sure you get back safely."

Nyma's hands curled into fists. A dark, possessive growl rumbled deep in her chest, the presence of her she-wolf thrashing against the confines of her control. Why was he acting like this? Like she mattered? But still a tiny part of her rationale countered that Adrain was Alpha and Lira was their packs guest, so it natural to help her fi she needed. With that thought, Nyma walked a little to be that help for Lira when she saw the woman shift in her stance and manner of speech. 

"Adrain," Lira said with a sharp edge, her amusement slipping. "I don't need a damn escort. Go back to your wife." The word was spat out like a curse.

Nyma's body stiffened, her nails biting into her palms. She clearly felt the loathing for her in Lira's voice. She didn't what exactly but she looked at her mate husband with expectant eyes. 

While Adrain just sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Nyma's leaving today. I have to see her before she goes. But I'll take you to your room first."

Lira let out a sharp, humorless laugh, her jealousy barely veiled. "Of course. Nyma, Nyma, Nyma. It's always about her, isn't it?"

She swayed, unsteady, but Adrain caught her before she could fall. His hands tightened around her arms, and the woman had the audacity to wrap her arms around his waist.

"Lira," he warned, his voice low, edged with exhaustion. "Don't do this."

"Why not?" she shot back, eyes blazing. "Why should I keep pretending it doesn't tear me apart? That she gets to claim you in front of everyone? You're fine when she's not around, but the moment she steps into the picture, you change. It's like your whole being moves to her rhythm—whatever she says, you never object. And the way you look at her…" Her voice wavered, raw with hurt. "Your eyes light up like she's your whole damn world." 

Nyma inhaled sharply, the words hitting like a hot and cold blade to her ribs. But it wasn't just Lira's bitterness that shook her—it was Adrain's silence. The way he stood there, as if he'd heard it all before. As if he didn't feel the need to stop Lira from speaking about his wife like this.

Something twisted deep inside her.

Nyma's fingers curled into fists, her mating bond aching with the absence of Adrain's outrage. He should be furious. He should shut this down.

But Adrain just… stilled.

A flicker of something—understanding? Guilt?—passed over his face, and Nyma's stomach turned to ice.

She understood jealousy. She understood pain. But where were the boundaries? Adrain wasn't just her fated mate—he was a married man, soon to be a father in mere weeks.

"Nyma's my fated mate," he reminded her, voice calmer now. "You know that."

"And I was your first love," Lira countered, her voice dipping into a sultry whisper. "Before her. Before you became this devoted husband, this 'loyal mate.' Before your whole world revolved around her. You were mine, and I was yours…"

She pressed closer, her fingers trailing up his chest, slow and deliberate. Adrain's breath hitched—his body betraying him. The touch was too familiar. Too easy.

Nyma saw it—the way his muscles tensed, not to push her away, but to stop himself from leaning in. The way Adrain recognized her touch, remembered it.

Nyma's wolf snarled, restless, pacing inside her. The bond between her and Adrain should have been enough—should have kept him from another woman's touch. But he wasn't pulling away.

The mating bond should have been a leash, a brand, searing him at the mere thought of another's hands on him. Was their mate bond truly this weak?

Nyma waited but Adrain didn't move. Didn't recoil.

Just stood there, his pulse hammering under Lira's fingertips—letting her carve her claim into his skin all over again.

And Nyma—

Nyma ached. Not with rage. Not yet. But with something far worse: doubt.

Should she defend her mate? Protect what was hers, or let this moment speak for itself?

"Lira—stop be..."

"You don't have to pretend with me," she murmured, her lips inched closer, a breath away from his. "I know what we were, Adrain. What we could still be."

He exhaled sharply, his fingers flexing against her arms as if he were holding himself back.

"Don't," he warned.

Lira's smile was all predator, her canines glinting in the low light as she tilted her head—a challenge, a dare.

"Why not?" Her fingers traced the hem of his trousers, nails scraping the sensitive skin just beneath. "Because you're married? Because your precious Luna is carrying your pup?" A low, throaty laugh. "Since when do Lycans bind themselves to just one?"

Adrain's breath stuttered—not in protest, but in recognition. The old ways. The legacy their kind had practice and passed down for centuries.

Nyma's entire body went rigid.

The bond between them screamed, flooding her with the heat of his skin, the hitch in his pulse—not rejection, but response.

Lira pressed closer, her lips brushing his jaw as she murmured, "You weren't made for chains, Adrain. Not even hers."

And the worst part? He didn't deny it. Nor did he defend his promise made to Nyma. 

Lira leaned in, her voice a purr. "You should stop pretending like a mutt, you're royal lycan, Adrain. You and I both know Lycans don't settle for only one."

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

"I—"

Lira kissed him.

Nyma saw the moment their lips met—saw the way Lira melted into him, the way Adrain tensed but didn't shove her away immediately. His fingers curled against her waist. 

Nyma saw red all over and she began to march towards them when Adrain growled.

A ragged breath left him, like he was at war with himself. Then, with another growl, he grabbed her arms and tore his lips away.

"Enough," he panted, voice rough, strained. "I said enough."