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PROLOGUE
Quinley, aged sixteen
There he is.
Her pulse racing with nerves, Quinley slipped out of the shadows at the side of the guest lodge. Zaire’s step faltered at the sight of her, and his brows briefly knitted. It sucked that her own mate looked at her with zero recognition despite her having been in his periphery for years.
Her Alpha male Harlan was close friends with Zaire’s father, Rodrick—an Alpha of another pride. Whenever Rodrick came to visit, he often brought his son along. And so Zaire had become friends with Harlan’s children.
Quinley’s pride was huge, as was its territory. The more important you were to the Alphas, the further inland you were situated. Her family was unranked and lived near the border, so she didn’t move in the same social circles as the children of her Alpha pair, unlike Zaire. As such, she’d never had cause to officially meet him.
It was only two years ago, when he’d saved her from a tricky situation, that she’d been up close to him for the first time. As she’d looked directly into his eyes and taken his scent into her lungs, something deep and primitive had stirred inside both Quinley and her inner cat. They’d felt that he was theirs. When all he’d gifted her with was a blank, disinterested look, her stomach had roiled.
He doesn’t sense it, she’d thought back then. It had been clear that something was jamming the frequency of the true-mate bond on his end.
She’d raced back home and told her sisters what had happened. They’d advised her not to approach him about it, saying it was best to give him time to sense the truth for himself. So Quinley had done exactly that, trusting that he’d eventually come to realize they were predestined mates.
But … he so far hadn’t. Which was a special brand of torture. And after what she’d heard tonight, she couldn’t stay silent any longer. She’d otherwise risk losing him for good.
Zaire gave her a severe glare. “You shouldn’t be here.” It was spoken with the authority of someone who actually ruled her pride.
Bold.
“I wanted to talk to you.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Quinley, by the way.”
He didn’t react whatsoever. It was obvious that her name meant nothing to him and didn’t poke at his memories. Sweet.
“You once intervened when I was surrounded by a group of my peers,” she reminded him. Again, zero recognition. “In the woods,” she added, but the words garnered no reaction. “Like, two years ago.”
He continued to stare at her blankly.
Disappointment flooded her, but she flicked a blasé hand. “You don’t remember. It’s fine.” Lie.
He sighed. “What do you want?”
She blinked at his rude tone. Okay. It didn’t do much for her confidence, but she wasn’t going to make her excuses and leave. This was too important.
She pulled in a preparatory breath and drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t anything close to tall. She parted her lips to speak, but the words got trapped in her throat. Say it. Just say it. “We’re mates,” she blurted out.
He stiffened from head to toe, his expression going tight. Not good. But still, there was relief in having finally spoken those words aloud. She’d held them in for what felt like way too long.
Zaire scratched his nape, looking uncomfortable. “Fuck,” he muttered beneath his breath.
“I wasn’t going to say anything. I was waiting for you to sense it for yourself. But you haven’t, and then tonight I heard… I heard that you and Nazra plan to mate one day and run this pride together.” Panic had squeezed her lungs so tight she’d struggled to breathe.
He dropped his arm back to his side. “Look—”
“I know there’s a good chance my Alpha will make you sign a mating agreement even now. You can’t, Zaire.”
It wouldn’t matter that he might not claim Nazra for many years to come. If he put his signature on those papers, it would be hard for him to back out without causing major insult to her Alphas—and it would break something in Quinley.
“You can’t sign yourself away like that,” she pressed. “I’m the one you’re supposed to claim.”
He pulled a face. “This is—”
“I’m no daughter of an Alpha, I’m not dominant, and my family as a whole is unranked, so mating me will get you nothing—I know that. But we’re fated, Zaire. That has to count for something.”
“It would. If we were. But we’re not.”
