Chapter 2

Saint's body had been in a slumber for over a decade. No access to food or water had turned him into a weak shell. His pride and muscles were gone, and he needed water and sex to recover his strength. 

He drew his knees to his bare, dirty chest for warmth with a sigh. Even though Saint didn't age, he felt like a ghost inside this cell. Lost. Forgotten. Never to be seen by the world again.

The life of a prisoner didn't suit him. 

Saint had once been a powerful ruler who made women fall like flies right by his feet. He had been beautiful. Seductive and deceiving—someone you couldn't trust with your life.

He had also been a conquerer. That's why the werewolves had locked him up in the first place. 

At first, Saint had laughed at being locked up. He thought someone would come to save him. But years passed, and no one ever came.

Eventually, the lack of food had made Saint's body enter an eternal slumber. Now, he was perplexed about his awakening.

That woman who had talked to him earlier... 

Her presence had somehow called out to Saint's soul. Was the woman his mate? It would be crazy. She had carried the scent of a werewolf, which probably meant that she was alpha Jensen's daughter.

Saint frowned. Fate had a sick sense of humor if alpha Jensen's daughter was his mate. The woman was his enemy.

But maybe...

No.

Anger churned within him, and Saint lifted his nose into the air. Who was he kidding? Saint didn't need a mate. Settling for one woman sounded like a nightmare since his kind usually enjoyed many women at once.

Women fell victim to their sexual desire by simply looking at Saint... Or they had—Saint needed to regain his strength for it to happen again. He was also in dire need of a shave. He could barely see through the bangs and the horrendous beard covering his face.

Sighing, Saint continued staring out into the emptiness until the woman's presence could be felt on the other side of the door. 

"Are you back to save me?" Saint's voice was dripping with sarcasm. There was no way the woman would set him free.

"I couldn't sleep... I've been rolling around in my bed for over an hour and decided to come here..."

This was new, Saint thought. Apparently, it was nighttime, and the woman had come to find him—why?

Saint licked his lips. He wasn't talkative, but he hadn't spoken with another person in what he deemed forever. It wouldn't kill him to talk to the werewolf woman. It wouldn't surprise him if another ten years passed before someone approached him again.

"And why is that?" Saint asked.

"Well..." There was a deep breath. "Uh... I'm supposed to marry a man who isn't my true mate."

Saint's lips quirked. "Ah, so my role tonight is playing relationship counselor? How interesting."

His words actually earned him a soft laugh from the female. It surprised him how his heart squeezed in return. A real alien emotion indeed. Saint only cared about himself, but he liked this woman's laugh.

"Yeah, I could need a relationship counselor right about now. Do you mind? Talking to me, I mean."

Saint froze. He didn't want the woman to be sad, which shocked him. It made no sense for him to care about a stranger, yet he intended to try cheering her up with his dry sense of humor.

"Normally, people book their session with me beforehand, but would you look at that? My schedule seems to be open tonight."

The woman giggled. "You're funny… For being a demon."

Saint's eye twitched. "I'm not a demon."

His new friend ignored his irritation." I think I came here because… It's easy to talk to someone when you don't have to see their reaction or face… And nobody will ever know about our little chat..."

"You don't think your father will be angry with you?"

Hesitation. "My father won't find out... We had a fight..."

"And you're confident to tell me that?"

There was more silence. "I don't have anyone else to talk to... Not inside the castle, at least..."

Saint narrowed his eyes and stared at his naked feet in the dark. He had always been good at reading people: the woman felt lonely and had no one to talk to—Saint recognized the unhappiness in her voice. 

Odd.

Saint never cared or talked to anyone in the past. It came as a shock when he started missing social interactions. The woman's loneliness reminded him of himself.

Saint's desolate heart yearned for someone to talk with, even though it would kill the man to ever admit it out loud. Talking about feelings was a hobby for women.

Yet Saint forced himself to chat. "So you don't have any friends?"

The woman gasped at his words, offended by Saint's assumption. "I have plenty of friends! I'm rather popular, but all my friends are humans. They wouldn't understand my situation... They live in the other realm."

A ghost of a smile touched Saint's lips. "I see... You're not like me then. I don't have anyone."

"Are you trying to guilt-trip me for keeping you imprisoned?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

The woman was quiet for a while. "My name is Harper."

Ah, there it was. The confirmation Saint had been waiting for. The woman was indeed alpha Jensen's daughter.

But... 

Perhaps Harper wasn't as sharp as her father?

"My name is Saint," his lips curled into a wicked smile. "Say, Harper, how about you let me out from here?"

Harper snorted. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Because I've been locked up for over a decade. I've learned my lesson. Besides, you're the future alpha, are you not? I'm sure you're powerful enough to defend yourself against me. Not that I plan on attacking you."

Of course, Saint was lying. 

He was already planning to use his entire arsenal to escape the second he was out of this basement. If it meant attacking Harper, then Saint would do it. He couldn't stand being locked up anymore.

Harper stared at the door. Her father had warned her about the prisoner, but he was wrong in many other aspects. He had called her mother weak, useless, and ultimately a whore.

And Harper's mother was none of that. So, perhaps her father was wrong about the prisoner too? Lying and spitting nonsense didn't seem beyond her father's capabilities.

Besides, something inside Harper's soul told her to open the door. There was a pull in her chest, like a whisper of the heart. It spread heat over her skin until she burned like the morning star.

Silence fell, and the only sound was the rhythm of her heart. 

Harper stood there, hesitating until a wind of fate blew through her. Her eyes widened in realization. Somehow she knew the moon goddess herself wanted her to open the door.

Harper braced herself with a deep breath. "Alright, I will let you out."

Saint couldn't believe his ears. Was Harper mad? Why was she so easily persuaded to let him outside of the basement? 

Suspicion clouded Saint's senses. 

Maybe Harper was playing a sick game and wouldn't let Saint free. Harper might be planning to simply look at Saint's sad frame and laugh at him. It indeed sounded like something Harper's father would do.

Was Harper as heartless as alpha Jensen?

Regardless, Saint sat on pins and needles when the werewolf woman yanked open the door to the basement. He could hear her walking down the staircase, step by step, until her scent hit his nose. 

Not a minute later, his entire being shook with recognition. My mate, Saint thought, skeptical. He had found his mate?

His nostrils flared as he breathed in her scent again. Immediately, recognition settled over him like a blanket. His every cell awakened at the sweet fragrance clinging to her skin. Hell, every organ in his body responded to her.

Slowly, Saint lifted his chin and gasped. Harper became the center of his world with her angelic face, glowing cheeks, and cute nose. Saint's eyes widened when he realized there would never be another woman in his life. 

Not that Saint would ever need another. Harper was gorgeous. Her eyes were big and blue. Her body was curvy in all the right places, and Saint had never seen skin as pale and smooth as hers, not even on a vampire. In his eyes, his mate was ethereal.

Was she even real?

Saint tilted his head and studied the approaching werewolf. 

Harper was the daughter of Saint's enemy, and she was a werewolf—logic told him not to fall victim to the mate-bond. Harper's identity made Saint angry, but beneath that boiling emotion, there was possessive starvation he couldn't deny.

He wanted to devour this woman, and that was a first. 

Saint had been pleasured by many women. Usually, he never had to lift a finger because of his abilities. 

Now that was about to change. Saint wanted to deliver pleasure to his mate instead of letting her worship him. Already his body was heating with unquenchable fire, and his lips parted. Mine. Everything within him tensed. Mine.

Obviously, Harper hadn't yet recognized Saint as her mate. In fact, she was observing him like he was a pest on the wall. Too young, Saint inwardly scoffed. Harper had yet to hit her eighteenth birthday.

"Wow," Harper blurted out. "You need to shower and eat something."

Saint paused, Harper's words echoing through his mind. Was that sympathy in her voice? Saint curled his lips. 

A plan was already forming inside Saint's head. Would his mate care for him if he pretended to be more feeble than he was?

It was worth a try.

Saint let his head roll to his side. "Please... I need food and water... Please help me..." 

Saint coughed two times, hoping his acting skills would fool Harper and win her over.

And Saint hit the jackpot.

Immediately, concern washed over Harper's features. She bent down and bit her lip at Saint's current state. Her eyes filled with tears seeing the chains holding up his weak body, and she held back a whimper.

Harper didn't like to see people suffer.

"Oh my... You're in worse shape than I thought..." Harper whispered in a voice filled with worry. Her soft hands stroked Saint's boney shoulders. There wasn't any muscle left on his sad frame. "But don't worry. I will care for you..."

Saint had to hide his smile, though it wasn't very hard with his new beard and mustache. He knew he probably looked like a savage, but it worked in his favor at this time. 

His mate felt sorry for him, which meant that Saint would finally be free once more. 

Checkmate, Jensen.