Crown and Shackles: The Princes Mate (Story Updated)

The Wolf's Wrath

Oh, honey, it took me nearly an hour-and I was still hurting like a hot mess. But did I have a choice? Nope. I had to drag myself right back to work. So, off I went to finish cleaning the so-called "Royal" room.

And girl, when I swung that door open? Jaw. On. The. Floor. Then bam-rage hit me like a freight train, boiling blood and all. How dare HE?

The room was an absolute disaster zone. Blankets shredded and tossed everywhere like confetti at a bad party. Curtains and drapes, ripped clean off their hooks, just lying there like sad little casualties-Wolf bites marking the last scraps like a wild beast had thrown a tantrum.

Drawers? Dent city. Cracked and battered like someone threw a punch. The bathroom door? Smashed clean off its hinges. The bed? Flipped upside down like it was auditioning for a wrestling match. It looked like a toddler went nuclear times ten.

This is gonna take hours to fix, and yeah, I'm definitely gonna need backup. Everything's a write-off. What in the actual hell was this dude doing? PMSing through a hurricane or what?

************ Later *******

So, it took me over three freakin' hours-and a little help from Sam and Troy, because, duh-I was finally done and dead tired. I glanced around the room, hunting for any signs of my slip-ups. That's when he showed up. Yeah, the one and only-let's call him 'Jerk, The Destroyer.' Looking just as pissed off as last time, like he's auditioning for the drama queen Olympics.

It took every ounce of willpower not to shift into my wolf right then and there. Seriously, I bust my butt to keep this place spotless, thank you very much. But guess what? My wolf? Oh no, she wasn't mad. She was thrilled-like, full-on serenading me to go chase after her mate.

I'm like, "oh, honey, we don't even know who this man is!"

I bolted out of the room before I could lose my damn cool. But as soon as the door slammed shut behind me? Smash. Crash. Total wreckage symphony. Oh hell no! How dare he? I JUST finished fixing that disaster zone! Now I'm stuck cleaning it up all over again.

Okay, okay-breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

*****5 days later***

Oh my God, seriously-when was that jerk planning to come home? It'd been five whole days, and all I'd done was clean and fix his damn disaster of a room. Every time I showed up, ready to tidy up, I'd find the place even worse than before. Honestly, it was like he had a personal vendetta against cleanliness. So, of course, I had to rope in two other poor souls just to get the room back to some sort of livable state.

I was beyond fed up with this lazy excuse for a man. For the first time in my life, I actually entertained the thought of offing someoneand spoiler alert, it was him. My wolf wasn't making things any easier, either. She'd completely lost it, going nuts, begging me nonstop to go find my mate. If she wasn't whining about him, she was straight-up babbling nonstop. I fought tooth and nail to block her out, but every now and then, she'd hijack control. And wouldn't you know it, Sam, Troy, or even Henry would stroll in just in time to catch me singing like a lunatic

I finally had to say it-there was no more dodging it. I'd found my mate.

Cue the fireworks.

Sam and Henry practically exploded with excitement, squealing and hopping like over-caffeinated fangirls at a boyband concert. I half expected glitter to shoot from their ears. "Oh my God! Who is it? When did it happen? Are they hot?" They were jumping around like toddlers on a sugar high, and I just stood there thinking, This is my life now.

Meanwhile, Troy?

Yeah, not so thrilled.

He looked like someone had kicked his puppy, then set his house on fire. I guess the part where my mate happened to be an Alpha didn't sit well with him. Boo-hoo. As if I had any say in who the Moon Goddess decided to tether my soul to for all eternity. Please.

He didn't say a word, but suddenly he was hissing at people like a feral cat and stomping around like he'd stubbed all ten toes. He even stopped helping me clean Jerk's room. Which, of course, meant I was stuck scrubbing it by myself for the millionth time.

Lucky me.

Sam and Henry tried to be helpful, bless their weak little arms, but let's be real-they're built more for gossip and making out in broom closets than actual labor. Every five minutes it was "Did you see what Logan was wearing today?" or "You think he loves you more?" I had to yell at them like a frustrated babysitter until they finally remembered they had real jobs and left.

Honestly? I was relieved. If I had to hear one more whisper about "who kissed who longer," I might've grabbed the nearest silver blade and ended the madness.

Which brings us to now-me, alone, cleaning Jerk's room for the fifth-or was it sixth?-time this week, and about ready to light the entire building on fire.

And then... he walked in.

Of course he did. Because the universe hates me.

Prince Logan, a.k.a. 'Jerk Supreme,' strutted in like he owned not just the room but the whole damn world. And the very first thing he did? He kicked the drawers. The drawers I had JUST fixed.

Oh, that was it.

I dropped the last fragments of his shredded pillow and screamed, loud and raw. "OH MY GOD. I just fixed that!"

He froze.

"This is the fifth-or maybe sixth-time I've cleaned this wreck of a room! Can you stop destroying everything like a toddler with anger issues?!"

And just like that, I knew I had screwed up.

Because the last time I raised my voice to him, I got a set of lovely souvenirs on my back. Scars that still burned if I moved too fast. I really didn't want a matching set.

His head turned toward me, slow and deliberate-like a predator locking eyes with its next meal.

His hair, jet black and just messy enough to scream "I spent two hours styling this disaster," framed his stupidly perfect face. Tight gray shirt, ridiculous abs, long legs in dark jeans-yeah, he looked like a walking thirst trap. Too bad he had the personality of a soggy boot.

But none of that mattered.

Because then I looked into his eyes.

Baby blue. Sharp. Tired. Haunted. And staring straight into mine like they knew something I didn't.

And suddenly, everything froze.

No. No. Nope. Absolutely not.

He can't be...

He CAN'T be my mate.

But then he stepped forward, voice soft, almost tender-completely ruining my will to live-and said:

"I have finally found you."

Great. Just freaking perfect.

Kill me now...