<i>Zephyrine </i>


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    I wake up to his palm on my breasts, my head resting on his arm, my back pressed against his solid chest. The chirping of birds fills the air, apanied by the lively chatter of Lycans going about their day but then I feel a summons, different from all others. Powerful. Familiar.


    I close my eyes to listen, and ites through, steady, confident, respectful, calm, resonating deep into my soul.


    “Zephyr.”


    I flutter my eyelids open and ease off the bed gently. I reach for the Lycannar shirt and put it on, watch it fall over my knees, and walk toward the corridor to stare outside.


    Past the people, beyond the massive gates of the Lycan Kingdom, I see him. Mounted on a powerful white warhorse, I recognize his energy before his face.


    Jurrek Bane.


    For him toe all the way from Ash Pack to here means one thing. It is important.


    Perhaps… has he found something connected to my… brother?


    I step away from the corridor and reach for my dress, fastening the back when Lycannar’s voice calls through.


    “You are not staying for breakfast?”


    I turn to him gently and walk up to sit on the bedside, my lips brushing his softly.


    “I have to go.”


    He searches my eyes and tenderly cups my neck with his palm, drawing me down for another kiss.


    Then he sits up and reaches over the table beside the bed where a small ck box sits. He takes it and extends it to me.


    I stare at it briefly, then back at his face. His pale–gold eyes stare back, unwavering.


    “I was supposed to give it to you yesterday morning, but you left before I could,” he whispers. I take the box gently from him.


    Quietly, I open it, and my heart sinks. It’s a ring carved from the purest gold, like the crown I saw on the day of his coronation. Slowly, I look up at him.


    Is he… proposing?


    “Not yet,” he replies, as though reading my thoughts. He lowers his gaze and says softly, “It’s just a small present.”<fn8c35> For more chapters visit f?i?n?d?n?o?v?e?l?</fn8c35>


    I pull back, awed. Why does he belittle every gift he gives me?


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    “If a ring made from the purest gold is little, then I wonder what is big,” I say softly, my heart tightening. Then I lower my gaze and take the ring from the box, extending it to him.


    “Take it,” I say, and I see his expression falter.


    “Why?” he asks quietly, a trace of sadness in every word. “You don’t like it?”


    My heart nearly bursts at the intensity of his love, adoration, devotion. His obsession. He has never hidden it even once. He makes it so obvious. I am his everything, and he would be lost forever if I left.


    “Take it… and put it on for me,” I tell him. For a long moment, he only stares at me.


    Atst, he obeys. He takes the ring, and I hold out my fingers. Watching him slide it onto my middle finger, I feel the weight of the im. It’s public, undeniable. Lycannar leans in to kiss my palm with reverence afterward, and I reach to run my fingers through his long ck hair.


    He raises his head to kiss me again, then breaks off to hug me tightly.


    N


    “I’m addicted to you, Zephyrine. I’m totally obsessed with you.


    “I know. I know, my love.” I pull back to search his eyes, my heart swelling with joy and relief. “I hate to leave you.”


    “You don’t have to go,” he says, and I swallow hard. But I do have to. I have a life, a pack, a responsibility, an


    enormous one.


    I kiss Lycannar’s lips once more, then slip off the bed and walk out.


    I emerge into the Royal stable in no time. The stableman rushes over to hand me the horse reins, and I reach to caress her mane. As I head toward the exit, Lycannar’s raven flies over to perch on my shoulder. A chill runs down my spine, and Iugh.


    “What’s the asion?” I ask.


    “To bid you goodbye.”


    I stop and look up toward the corridor of the ck Tower. Lycannar stands there in his robe, sunlight bathing him in glory. Grace is <i>too </i>small a word to describe him, yet he dares believe he amounts to nothing? That’s not true.


    I stare at him for several seconds and smile. He doesn’t respond, so I turn fully toward him.


    “You smile back,” I say aloud, forgetting he can hear me even if I whisper.


    The Lycans going about their daily tasks pause, ncing at me and then up to the King they bow to. Lycannar has never smiled in public, I can guess, but at that moment, his eyes fix on me and he smiles.


    Murmurs fill the courtyard, but I am already on my way out, my heart tingling with joy. Ravana flies off my shoulder as I walk beside my white horse and head toward White Pack on foot.


    Immediately I step out of the Lycan Kingdom, the thrill lingers, then fades, reced by the summons again. I stop smiling. My joy twists into something else, urgent.


    I continue walking until the Lycan Kingdom fades behind me, and only then does he appear before me.


    Jurrek Bane, the great loyal Beta of Ash Pack.


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    He stands there, a sealed letter in hand. His stance today is different, and my heart skips a beat when he draws me into a hug.


    My brother’s most loyal and steadfast friend. The Bane lineage has served Ashmere Alphas for generations, each willing toy down life and honor for the pack.


    Jurrek’s father did the same for my own father, both wiped out on the battlefield five years ago.


    Now he stands with me, arms strong around me. He has watched me grow, loved me as a brother, a beta, a protector. His respect is paramount; he rarely calls me by name unless the weight of emotion demands it, and he touches me only when it truly matters.


    “Word came from the border, My Lady,” he says as he pulls back to stare at me. “Words about your brother, my best friend, the Great War Strategist. A letter was delivered by a man iming he knows Varyn’s whereabouts, but he said he will speak only to an Ashmere, an Alpha.”


    Goosebumps crawl over my skin, and I stare at him, wide–eyed.


    “That’s a trick. He’s a false liar,” I murmur, nearly crazed with emotion. “That’s not true.”


    “I also have the same thought when we heard the words,” Jurrek says, handing me the letter. “But here it is, sealed. He ims it is thest written by your brother. No one will dare open it but you. Confirm the truth and return to Ash Pack with feedback, My Lady. Every order you make will be obeyed without hesitation.”


    He kisses my forehead, then mounts his great warhorse and rides into the sunrise, back to Ash Pack.


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