CHAPTER THREE

AUDREY

A triumphant smile spreads across my face as I clutch my new uniform to my chest, the fabric still crisp and pristine. Six months of brutal training, countless tests, and ruthless competition have led to this moment. Every bruise, every sleepless night, every drop of sweat - all worth it knowing Prince Jax would be proud. Though I haven't seen him since that day in his office, surely he'll acknowledge my achievement now that I've secured my position as Prince Knox's personal guard.

I'm heading back to my quarters in the royal palace, eager to change and assume my post, when the morning breeze shifts. A scent hits me - cedar and storm rain - so powerful it stops me mid-stride. It slams into my senses, making my knees weak. Aria immediately goes wild beneath my skin, clawing and howling in recognition. No!

I already feel the word forming on Aria's tongue, the revelation I've been dreading, when a deep baritone voice behind me speaks it into existence.

"Mate." The word caresses down my spine like a physical touch, sending shivers through my entire body.

I spin around, and rage floods my veins like liquid fire as recognition hits. The memories of our first meeting crash over me, as sharp and crystal-clear as if that night were happening all over again.

Two Years Ago - The Royal Masquerade Ball

Rainbow shadows from crystal chandeliers dance across my silk green gown - Jax's gift for tonight. He'd instructed me to attend under a different name, and like always, I didn't question why. My savior deserved my unquestioning obedience. I weave through the crowd of masked nobles, touching the delicate silver mask covering the upper half of my face to ensure its position. This might be my first grand ball, but I couldn't let excitement make me careless. Jax's warning echoes in my mind - no one could recognize me.

I've just taken a flute of champagne from a passing tray when a scent hits me so powerfully I choke on my drink. It draws me like a moth to flame, making me forget the burn in my throat, the coughing fit, everything but that intoxicating pull.

Our eyes lock across the ballroom, and Aria's word makes everything fall into place: "Mate."

He moves toward me with the fluid grace of high werewolf status - I believe royal. His black and gold mask makes his green eyes seem almost luminous against the candlelight. My heart thunders as he bows, extending his hand.

"My lady," he says, voice rich as aged wine. "Might I have this dance?"

The request catches me off guard, and I need a moment to collect myself before nodding. I'd expected him to ask my name, acknowledging our mate bond, but perhaps that conversation would come during our dance.

His warm hand slides across my waist, pulling me close enough to feel his heat. Aria howls in delight at our proximity to our mate. He guides me through the waltz with practiced ease, asking questions about my supposed noble house - the one Jax crafted for tonight. My heart swells with joy that my mate wants to know me, even this false version. Soon, I tell myself, I'll share the truth.

"Tell me of House Blackwood's summer estate," he murmurs, twirling me beneath the sparkling chandeliers. "I hear the gardens are quite spectacular in bloom."

My heart stutters - this wasn't in my prepared responses. "Oh yes, particularly the rose gardens-"

"Curious." His fingers tighten on my waist, just shy of painful. "House Blackwood is famous for their lily fields. Not a single rose grows on their lands."

The music continues, but the air grows thick with tension. His smile remains perfect ,practiced, yet something deadly now lurks in those green eyes. Other couples slowly stop dancing, wolves sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

"You dance beautifully for a noblewoman," he says, voice carrying in the growing silence. His thumb brushes over my palm, finding the calluses I'd failed to hide. "Tell me, Lady Vivian, do all members of House Blackwood have hands roughened by blade work? Or is that particular to impostors?"

The last word echoes through the ballroom. Whispers ripple through the crowd like wind through grass. My mouth goes dry as masked faces turn toward us, jewels glinting like predatory eyes in the candlelight.

"Your grace," I start, but he cuts me off with a laugh that freezes my blood.

"Guards," he calls out, still holding me in that mockery of a dance pose, his grip now a steel trap. "It seems we have an uninvited guest in our midst. One who thought she could fool the crown with pretty lies and a borrowed dress."

Present Day

"Why?" I spit the word at him; my hands clenched so tight my nails bite into my palms. Two years, I've carried the humiliation of that night, never knowing my tormentor was the Crown Prince himself. Now, here he stands - Prince Knox, the very man I'm meant to guard. The bitter irony tastes like ash in my mouth. "You could have had me arrested quietly. Instead, you chose to humiliate me in front of the entire court."

"And why the hell would I do that?" His green eyes flash with barely contained fury, reminding me of storm clouds before lightning strikes. "You were an impostor trying to infiltrate my court. Should I have quietly escorted you out, allowing others to think they could attempt the same without consequences?"

"You didn't have to-"

"Didn't have to what?" He steps closer, his presence flooding my senses, cedar and storm rain threatening to overwhelm me. "Didn't have to protect my people? My crown? Do you have any idea how many assassins and spies try to worm their way into these halls using pretty faces and forged papers?"

The worst part is seeing the genuine conviction burning in his eyes - the unwavering belief that he'd done the right thing. That my public shame had served some greater purpose beyond his own pride.

"I am the Crown Prince," he continues, voice low but intense enough to make my wolf want to bare her throat. "Every decision I make sets a precedent. If word had spread that I'd shown mercy to an impostor..." He shakes his head. "I couldn't risk appearing weak. Not even for my-"

He catches himself, but we both hear the unspoken word hanging between us like a drawn blade. Mate.

I scoff, trying to mask how his words pierce my heart. "Of course, the perfect crown prince would hide behind duty." Venom drips from every syllable as I try to wound him, even just a little. "You probably took pleasure in the humiliation."

"I have already explained myself."

"Yeah, right," I say, rolling my eyes at him. Before I can blink, his hand closes around my arm, pulling me flush against his chest. Even with anger radiating off him in waves, my traitorous body melts into his, the mate bond snapping into place like a lock finding its key.

"Did you fucking roll your eyes at me? The crown prince?" he barks, his fury a tangible thing between us.

I square my shoulders and meet his blazing gaze. "I did, Crown Prince Knox. What are you going to do about it?"

Prince Knox's lips part with what I'm sure would be a scathing reply, but another voice cuts through our tension like a blade.

"You have a mate?" The king's voice makes us both freeze. I turn to find King Alexander and Queen Grace staring at us, shock evident on their faces. "Why didn't you mention her before?" the king demands of Knox.

"If you heard our conversation, you know the answer to that," Prince Knox replies, his jaw tight.

"Even though she must have had her reasons," Queen Grace says with maternal concern, "you should apologize for what you did that day and listen to what she has to say."

Before Knox can respond to his mother, I cut in, "There won't be any need for that, Your Majesty. I would never accept a mate who would humiliate me in front of the entire court."

"As I would never accept a mate who tried to infiltrate my court through deception, regardless of her reasons," Prince Knox fires back.

The king and queen gasp at our mutual rejection - a sound that would be almost comical if it weren't for the gravity of the moment. After all, rejecting the mate bond is nearly unheard of in our world, let alone between a crown prince and his personal guard.