Chapter 1
Chapter One: Bacon and eggs.
Mira had never felt more out of place in her entire life—and that was saying something, considering she’d grown up the only human in a pack of werewolves.
The royal castle was too much. Too tall. Too clean. Too quiet. Every step echoed like a drumbeat, even in her fuzzy cow slippers, and the ceilings loomed like they were watching her. Gold trim gleaned on every door frame, and portraits of stern Lycans stared down with an air of permanent disapproval.
She hugged her robe tighter around herself. All she’d wanted was a simple trip to the kitchen. A midnight snack, some greasy bacon, maybe a little quiet time before another day of posturing and polite tension.
Instead, her slippers mooed down every hallway like a low-budget alarm system, reminding her with every step: you don’t belong here.
She gritted her teeth and kept walking.
Mira had lived with wolves all her life. Her mother had passed when she was a child, and her uncle—Beta of the Silverfang Pack—had raised her with pride and love. She’d grown up scrappy, tough, and with a mouth that often got her into trouble. But she was loyal, and smart, and damn it, she was proud to be a part of her pack.
So when they’d asked her to join the cultural delegation visiting the Lycan royals—when she was offered the chance to speak for human rights among werewolves—she’d said yes.
Now, after two days of long meetings, polite nods, and being scrutinized like she was an exotic pet, Mira was starving. She hadn’t eaten dinner because one of the noble Lycans told her that her posture reminded him of a “content dairy cow” and she’d spent the rest of the evening fantasizing about slapping him with a plate of mashed potatoes.
But tonight was going to be different.
She was going to get her bacon. With a side of eggs. Maybe toast if she was lucky. She could eat it in the kitchen like a gremlin in peace.
And then he happened.
—
Prince Kieran of House Nightclaw did not like being summoned. Especially not by his parents. Especially not for this.
“I don’t care who you found,” he said flatly, adjusting the cuff of his suit with mild aggression. “I’m not breeding with anyone.”
His father, a towering Lycan with silvered hair and stern eyes, growled under his breath. “You will consider the women we’ve vetted. You’re the heir to the throne. You have responsibilities.”
“I have no interest in being saddled with a pup and someone I barely know,” Kieran snapped. “Find someone else to carry on the lineage. I’m busy living my life.”
His mother, graceful and sharp as ever, narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been busy. With racing. With drinking. With every female that so much as glances your way. We allowed it, hoping you’d mature.”
“And instead,” his father cut in, “you’ve become reckless. You need stability. A child would—”
Kieran stood so fast his chair scraped loudly against the marble. “No. I’m not a stud horse. And I sure as hell won’t be paraded in front of breeders like I’m picking out a new car.”
“You will do what is best for the bloodline,” his father warned.
Kieran clenched his jaw. “No. I’ll do what’s best for me.”
And with that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the chamber, the heavy doors slamming behind him.
He needed air. Or liquor. Or both.
Striding down the hallway, his polished shoes clicked against the tile in time with the pulse in his temple. He wasn’t some mindless Alpha desperate for a mate. He didn’t need a bond. That entire romanticized concept of “mates” was outdated. In his world, power came from control, from choice—not biology.
He rounded the corner without looking.
And collided with her.
—
The impact was immediate—and jarring. Mira’s whole body smacked into a hard wall of muscle. Her bun came undone in a flurry of tangled dark hair, spilling down her back and into her face. Her slipper let out a distressed moo as she stumbled.
The man didn’t so much as flinch.
He looked down at her like she’d coughed on his food.
“What?” he said, his voice a silk-lined dagger. “Couldn’t wait to sleep with me? Get in line.”
Mira blinked up at him.
Then she saw him.
The suit. The smirk. The absurdly symmetrical face. He was tall, lean, and carved like some ancient statue—but his expression was pure arrogance. Her lips parted in disbelief.
And then, her face twisted into a slow, murderous snarl.
“Excuse me?”
His brows arched, as if she was the one who’d just insulted him.
“You pompous, egotistical, disgusting cesspool in a suit!” she hissed, pushing herself to her feet. Her robe swished dramatically—well, as dramatically as fleece could—and she jabbed her finger into his chest.
“You crash into me, and have the absolute unmitigated gall to act like I was waiting to throw myself at you?” Jab. “What kind of narcissist are you?!” Jab.
The prince just stood there, stunned, his jaw slightly open.
“I wouldn’t sleep with you if you got on your knees and begged. I can’t even walk down a damn hallway to get bacon and eggs without being hit by some overgrown wolf who thinks he owns every square inch of stone under his feet!”
Another jab.
“No sir! I will not stand for it. You owe me an apology!”
The hallway had gone completely silent. Somewhere far off, a guard cleared his throat. Mira’s breathing was ragged, her hair wild around her flushed face.
She stomped her foot.
Moo.
His gaze flicked down. He blinked. She caught it.
“Don’t look at them!” she barked. “You don’t get to look at them.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. No words came.
“You can’t even say sorry—oh, forget it.” She spun on her heel, robe flaring. “You’ve already ruined my morning. I hope you stub your big toe. What an asshole!”
And with that, she stomped off, slippers mooing with every furious step.
Kieran stood in stunned silence.
His chest was tight. His skin felt hot. And his wolf—dormant for months—had stirred the moment she touched him. The moment she looked up at him with those big, raging storm eyes and called him a cesspool in a suit.
“Holy hell,” he muttered.
Behind him, a dry voice chimed in—his valet, Thomas, standing a few feet away, holding his prince’s forgotten tablet.
“Who in the realms was that?”
Kieran swallowed.
His mouth was still dry. His heart was still hammering.
But he knew it. He felt it in his bones. In every fiber of his being.
Mate.
