The Royal Alpha

Chapter 26: Confession Time [Part 1]

FENRIS

"Tell us, son," my father says after the last of the meal is cleared away, his tone deceptively casual. "Why this sudden visit? And the presence of a witch here"—his gaze flicks briefly to Alcina—"guarantees that some serious shit is brewing."

Here goes nothing.

My parents sit facing me, close together as they always do, an unspoken unity radiating from them. Alcina remains in the lone chair near the wall, deliberately giving us space, her posture respectful and quiet, as if she understands that whatever I'm about to say belongs first to family.

"I found my mate," I begin.

The words barely leave my mouth before my mother is on her feet.

She crosses the room in two strides, cups my face in her hands, and kisses my forehead with trembling affection, whispering blessings under her breath—how lucky I am, how the goddess favors me, how early this is, how rare. Her joy is unrestrained, pure, and it makes my chest tighten painfully.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

Because I have found my mate.

And lost her before I ever truly had her.

My mother finally pulls back, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Why didn't you bring her with you?" she asks eagerly. "We would have loved to meet our daughter."

She turns to my father for confirmation, and he nods slowly, his eyes glassy, something raw flickering across his face before he schools it away. I've never seen him look like that—so exposed, so unguarded. It unsettles me enough that I meet his gaze, silently questioning him.

He looks away.

"There must be a reason," he says carefully, addressing my mother but watching me closely, "why he didn't bring his mate home."

I draw in a slow breath, bracing myself for what will easily become the most difficult conversation I've ever had with them.

"She didn't accept me," I say.

The hurt and shock flash across their faces, sharp and immediate, but I don't let myself stop there. If I pause, I'll fracture.

"She's young, Dad," I continue, choosing my words with care. "Not even twenty-one. I was the one who recognized her as my mate. She asked for time—until she turns twenty-one—for confirmation before moving forward with the mating."

Even to my own ears, it sounds like a defense.

Like I'm protecting her, even here.

My mother frowns, confusion knitting her brow. "But how can she want confirmation?" she asks. "Didn't you touch? A handshake, even—touch alone should have confirmed the bond."

Heat creeps up my neck at her bluntness.

Touch.

I think of Sierra's skin under my palm. The way my wolf surged at the first contact. The way everything inside me screamed certainty.

If she had accepted me that first time—if she had not turned away—I would have marked her by now. Mated her. Claimed her fully.

The thought twists sharply in my chest.

Pushing it aside, I say evenly, "She knows I'm her mate. She hasn't denied that. But right now, she wants to focus on her training, not on me. I agreed to give her time. I didn't want to overwhelm her by forcing the bond."

My mother nods slowly, relief softening her features. She accepts my explanation—my carefully shaped half-truth—without question.

My father does not.