Crown and Shackles: The Princes Mate (Story Updated)

A Royal Introduction

No. No. No. No. This cannot be happening.
Not only have I just found out that I—me, Ally, professional nobody and certified prince-hater—am the prince’s mate, but the real kicker?
He smiled.
Actually smiled.
Like… genuinely. Teeth and all. That alone should've been a national emergency.

But no, what truly made my world tilt sideways was the fact that my wolf—traitorous little furball—was practically howling with joy.

"Oh my goddess! It’s real—it’s really him! He’s our mate!" she gasped, eyes shining. "Now get that adorable little butt over there—go to him, mate!" she whimpered, her voice full of joy and wonder.

Absolutely not.
Nope.
Hard pass.
I refuse to believe this ridiculous cosmic joke. My mate? Prince Logan? That smug, infuriating, golden-haired devil in royal robes? Although... he's not acting like a jerk right now. His baby blue eyes looked almost soft, like they’d forgotten how to be cruel. And his infamous temper? Nowhere to be seen. In its place... a warm smile aimed only at me.

Was I dreaming? Or just losing my mind?

“I should’ve seen it, the smell that would leave!” he said, his voice soft, almost too soft. “It’s been you all along.”

I blinked. Hard. “No—no, you’re wrong,” I stammered, already feeling the flush of regret crawl up my neck. God, Ally, what are you doing? “I— I have to go.”

“Go? Go where, love?” he asked, brows raised with amused disbelief.

“Back to work,” I snapped, bowing quickly before turning on my heel.

But of course, fate—and his annoyingly fast reflexes—had other plans. He reached out and caught my arm, effortlessly. And the second his fingers touched my skin, that damn electric spark hit me like lightning.

Perfect. Just perfect. As if this day couldn’t get any more deranged.

And then—because apparently he’s on a mission to ruin me—he leaned in and kissed me.

I froze. Eyes wide. Brain offline. My wolf? Practically doing backflips. Me? Yeah, well, I wasn’t entirely mad about it either. But I couldn’t let this happen. I shouldn't want it.

Somehow, I pushed him back. He stepped away... without yelling. Without scowling. Just... staring. Like he couldn’t understand why I rejected him. That alone nearly broke me.

He tried to reach for me again. I stepped back quickly, avoiding his touch like it was fire.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. That was… out of line,” I said, bowing again, cheeks burning with a mix of shame and confusion.

“You didnt do anything. Besides it’s not out of line if it’s with your mate,” he said, flashing that infuriatingly crooked smile.

I straightened, lifting an eyebrow. “No. We’re not mates. I’m not your anything, Your Highness.”

That wiped the smile off his face.
His eyes darkened. He stepped forward and grabbed my forearms—not rough, but firm.

“I am your mate,” Logan said with a twisted laugh, the sound low and rough. “Whether you like it or not. The Fates have made their choice.”

I rolled my eyes, folding my arms tight. “Well, the Fates clearly have a terrible sense of humor,” I snapped. “I’m just a slave, remember? My name is Ally—not mate. And I have work to do.”

Then, he slowly raised his hand.

I tensed, heart pounding, bracing myself—expecting some cruel punishment, some reminder of my place.