Mates

Celine POV

16th Birthday

The grip on my wrist tightens as my mother drags me forward, her pace relentless. I struggle to keep up, my legs stumbling over themselves as I try to match her determined strides.

“Mum!” I cry out, tugging against her hold, desperation in my voice.

“Keep moving, Celine!” she snaps, her voice low and feral. I catch a glimpse of her hand as it morphs, the fingers elongating into claws, fur sprouting along the knuckles. Her wolf is surfacing, her strength overpowering.

“I don’t have a wolf!” I plead, my voice trembling. My chest burns as I push myself to keep up, but my body betrays me, and I collapse to the ground. She growls in frustration, her grip never faltering as she yanks me upright with ease. Her disdain cuts deeper than her claws ever could. She knows I can’t move as fast as her—knows I’m not like her. Yet here we are.

We stop abruptly in front of a tall, foreboding building, its silhouette cutting sharply against the evening sky. The structure looms, its walls made of dark, weathered stone, ivy crawling up like veins. Iron sconces line the sides, their faint flickering lights casting eerie shadows on the entrance—a massive, arched door reinforced with thick metal bands.

The door creaks open, revealing a man standing on the threshold. His eyes lock onto mine briefly before softening as they land on my mother. He pulls her into a tight embrace, his lips grazing her ear.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with affection. His lips find hers, and they share a kiss far too intimate for my liking. I shift uncomfortably, my presence clearly forgotten.

“Come in. We’ll introduce her to the boys,” he says smoothly, stepping aside to make room. My mother’s hand grips mine, dragging me into the dimly lit foyer.

The air inside is heavy, a mix of old wood, leather, and something distinctly masculine. The entrance opens into a grand hall with high, vaulted ceilings supported by dark wooden beams. A chandelier hangs above, its flickering candlelight casting shadows that dance on the polished marble floors. The walls are lined with portraits of men with piercing eyes and sharp features, their expressions cold and commanding. A spiral staircase winds upward, its bannister carved with intricate wolves running in a pack. The space is both beautiful and suffocating.

The man turns to me, extending his hand with a tight smile. “Celine, I’m Richard.” As I take his hand, a sudden flood of images rushes into my mind—him and my mother entangled in passion, their bodies moving together in ways I don’t want to imagine. I yank my hand back, my stomach twisting in disgust.

“Hi,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper.

Unbothered, Richard gestures to the three figures emerging from an adjacent room. “These are my sons—Wes, Dolton, and Alex.” He steps aside and disappears down the hall with my mother, leaving me alone with them.

The brothers stare at me, their gazes intense and predatory. Their eyes glimmer unnaturally, shifting between hues of gold and silver as their wolves surface. I take a step back, my instincts screaming to run, but they advance.

“I’m Wes,” the first one says, his voice low and smooth. He reaches out, pulling me into a hug without warning. His arms are firm around me, and I feel his chest expand as he inhales deeply. His wolf growls low, and images flash in my mind—his teeth sinking into my neck, marking me as his. My stomach churns, and I push against him, my strength no match for his. After a moment, he releases me, his eyes dark with something I don’t want to name.

Before I can catch my breath, Dolton steps forward. His arms wrap around me, and I freeze as another wave of images overtakes me—his hands roaming my body, peeling away my clothes piece by piece. My cheeks burn as I shove him away, panic rising in my chest. These aren’t my thoughts—they’re his... His fantasies.

“Stop,” I whisper, but Alex is already closing in. His hands settle on my shoulders as he pulls me flush against his body. “Welcome, little sis,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my neck. His touch sends a shiver through me, and my mind is assaulted with images of him above me, my body restrained, his hand gripping my throat.

I wrench free, trembling as I back away. “Don’t touch me,” I manage, my voice shaky.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Wes’s voice cuts through the haze. He looks to his brothers, and they nod, a silent agreement passing between them.

“I can feel the bond,” Dolton says, circling me like a predator stalking prey.

“She’s ours,” Alex declares, his eyes dark and hungry.

“No!” I shout, panic lacing my voice. “You’re wrong. I’m not—”

“You’re our mate,” Wes interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact, as if my opinion doesn’t matter. My breath catches in my throat. Mate? No, that’s impossible.

“Father won’t like this,” Dolton says with a smirk, though his tone suggests he doesn’t care.

“Then we won’t tell him,” Alex replies. He steps closer, his hand wrapping around my neck, his thumb brushing against my pulse. “She’s here for us. To serve us. To be kept restrained and hidden,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

“To serve you?” My voice cracks as I stagger back, my back hitting the cold stone wall. They laugh softly, their towering forms closing in on me. The walls seem to close in, the air thick with their overwhelming presence. I shake my head, panic clawing at my chest.

I am not theirs. I am not here to serve anyone. But as their eyes glow and their wolves stir, I realize they don’t care what I think. To them, I am already claimed.