Isla's POV
"Do you need help, little one?"
The voice slid into the night like velvet, smooth, calm and almost too gentle to belong in this world that had only ever bitten me raw.
My knees gave out and I crumpled onto the damp grass near the border. My chest still burned from the run, my skin was torn from brambles and my hands were streaked with blood and dirt. I pressed my palms to the ground, trying to breathe, but the ache inside me wasn't from the cuts or the exhaustion.
It was from the bond.
Logan's rejection still clawed through my ribs like a curse that refused to leave and Kyree... Goddess, even thinking of him sent heat rushing through me, confusion tangling with despair. How could I have felt that spark again, only to be shoved aside, mocked and left in the shadows?
I had nothing left, no pack, no home and no future.
So when I looked up at the figure stepping from the trees, my blurred vision caught the glow of lanterns from a mansion in the distance and the man standing before me was tall and broad, his posture straight as a blade. His eyes caught the moonlight like polished steel, unreadable but sharp. His dark hair framed his face, smooth and perfect, like the sculpted portraits I'd seen hanging in Ivory Moon's hall and his smile was so soft and practiced, the kind of smile that promised safety.
I swallowed hard, my throat raw. "I..."
He knelt before me, his coat brushing against the wet grass, as his hand slipped under my chin, lifting my face with care so unlike the rough grip I'd known all my life.
"You're bleeding," he murmured. "You shouldn't be out here alone."
"I… I don't have anywhere else to go." The words slipped out before I could stop them, shame burning my cheeks.
His eyes softened just enough to make me believe him. "Then you'll come with me."
I should've resisted and I should've known better, but his voice was warm, his hand steady and I was so tired of fighting battles I never won.
"Who… who are you?" I whispered.
He smiled again, gentle and reassuring. "Drake... Drake Nightshade."
The name struck me like lightning. I had heard it before, the rival Alpha heir whispered of in war councils, the bloodline that had always threatened Ivory Moon's rule. He was supposed to be ruthless, ambitious and dangerous, but here, his voice was soft, his touch careful and I was too broken to run.
The Nightshade mansion rose before me like something out of a dream. White stone walls stretched high, windows glowing golden with warmth, pillars carved with wolves and moons. The scent of polished wood, burning cedar and fresh bread curled from the open doors, wrapping me in comfort I hadn't known since I was a child.
Drake guided me inside; his hand was steady at my back. Immediately, his servants froze when they saw me, their eyes widening and whispers darting through the hall, but none dared speak against him. He waved them off, while his gaze fixed only on me.
"Bring food," he ordered one. "And hot water. She needs to be cleaned and warmed."
I stood awkwardly, my torn dress sticking to my skin, as my knees were shaking at the same time. My body screamed for rest, but my heart screamed louder: Don't trust him... Don't trust anyone.
But then Drake turned to me, his voice low. "Sit." He gestured to a chair before the fire.
The flames crackled, heat washing over me as I sank into the chair. My arms wrapped around myself, holding in the ache. A servant brought bread and broth, placing it on the low table before me. I reached out hesitantly, as my fingers were trembling. Drake's eyes followed every movement, sharp but unreadable.
"Eat," he said softly.
I obeyed, the broth scalding but rich, the bread soft on my tongue. My stomach clenched, then loosened as warmth spread through me. Tears burned my eyes at the simple kindness.
Drake crouched beside me, his gaze steady on me. "Better?" I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. That was when it happened; our eyes met fully for the first time and the world shattered.
Heat tore through my chest, sparks flooding my veins, so sudden and fierce I gasped aloud. My wolf, Ava, howled inside me, breaking free from her silence, screaming one word:
"Mate."
The bread slipped from my fingers as my breath stuttered and my eyes widened as I stared into his.
Drake froze, his jaw clenched and his body stiffening like a man struck by lightning. His hand, which had been steady until now, trembled against his knee. His eyes flickered, golden light sparking for just a second before he caught it, crushing it behind cold steel again.
"No," he muttered under his breath. "Impossible."
My chest heaved. My wolf howled louder, clawing at me. Mate... Ours... Ours.
Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. No, not again and not another impossible bond.
Drake reached for my hand slowly, as if he was testing himself. His fingers closed around mine, warm, strong, grounding and then, to my shock, he lifted my hand to his lips.
His kiss was soft and lingering, like a promise I didn't understand, but when he lowered my hand, his eyes were no longer warm. They were cold and calculated.
"Take her upstairs," he told the servants without looking at me.
"What...?" I started, panic rising.
"You'll rest in a proper room." His tone was smooth and calm but final.
Two servants guided me gently up the grand staircase, my body too weak to resist. The hallways glittered with chandeliers, every door carved with golden wolves. They led me to a room larger than anything I had ever known. The walls were painted ivory, the bed was piled with silk sheets and the windows were draped with velvet curtains.
It was beautiful, too beautiful to be true. The door shut behind me with a heavy click.
I spun, rushing to it, but when I pressed the handle, it didn't budge. I rattled it and pounded on it; my chest was so tight with panic.
"Open it! Please, open it!" But there was no answer.
My fists thudded against the door until my arms ached. I stumbled back, while breathing hard, my tears hot and bitter.
He'd kissed my hand, he'd smiled at me and then he'd locked me away like a prisoner.
His words from downstairs echoed in my skull, though I hadn't realized they weren't meant for me at first, until now.
"A mate can be a weapon." My knees gave out and I sank to the floor, my palms pressed against the polished wood. My voice cracked, low and broken.
"Why would the Goddess give me a mate who would sell me?" What's more dangerous than being unloved or being desired for the wrong reasons?