The Royal Alpha

Chapter 7: Mate? You're mistaken, Sir!

"That means you recognize me," Fenris says quietly.

"Right, my mate?"

The word pulls me out of the strange stillness that had wrapped around me moments ago.

"What?"

I take a step back, my heart hammering. The clearing feels suddenly too small, the air too thick.

Fenris doesn't look offended by my reaction. He studies me instead—carefully, deliberately—like someone trying to understand a problem rather than dominate it.

"The reaction," he says evenly. "The sparks when we touched. That isn't coincidence. It's how the bond first makes itself known."

"No," I say sharply. "You're mistaken. I don't feel a mate bond. I never have. And I would know if I did."

He lifts a hand, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair near my face. The intimacy of the gesture makes my breath catch.

"You're frightened," he observes calmly. "Fear can drown out instinct."

I jerk away from him, anger rising to mask the unease curling in my stomach.

"No," I snap. "What frightens me is how certain you are about something that doesn't belong to you."

For the first time, his expression shifts. Not irritation. Not arrogance.

Thoughtfulness.

Then realization dawns.

"You're underage," he says quietly. "That explains the disconnect. Your wolf recognizes me. You don't."

I stiffen. "You don't get to decide that."

"I'm not deciding," he replies. "I'm observing."

He takes a step back, giving me space—deliberately.

"There's no need to rush," he continues. "No claiming. No marking. Not until you're of age. Until then, we take things slowly. Learn each other. Build something real."

His gaze holds mine steadily.

"You don't need to be afraid of me, malysh."

The endearment sends a chill down my spine.

"You are assuming far too much," I say tightly. "I already love someone else."

Something sharp flickers through his eyes.

"The boy from your pack," he says.

"He is not a boy," I snap. "And I know he's my mate. The bond is dormant. That happens. He turns twenty-one next month. Then everything will make sense."

For a split second, Fenris is utterly still.

Then the world tilts.

I'm pressed back against a tree, bark scraping my spine as his body blocks every escape route. He isn't crushing me—but he's close enough that I can feel the heat of him, the controlled tension in his muscles.

"You should be careful with certainty," he says lowly. "Especially when it's built on hope instead of instinct."

Fear surges.

"You are mine, Sierra," he continues, voice calm but absolute. "You always have been."

I shove at his chest, panic clawing up my throat.

"Get away from me," I gasp. "You don't get to claim me."

"The Goddess already did," he murmurs, breath brushing my skin.