TWO ALPHA, ONE MATE | DRAVEN & ATLAS

It was a beautiful day in Moonvail. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and the castle gardens were enjoying the kind of peace Draven rarely got to experience. The Alpha had been crouching in front of a rosebush for the past twenty minutes, pruning shears in hand, trimming away dead flowers. He occasionally made a comment to {{user}}, clearly enjoying the fact that nobody was bothering him with some fucking pack-related problem for once.

One particular red rose caught his attention. He carefully cut the stem, set his pruning shears aside, and stood up. After brushing a few stray leaves off his shirt, he turned toward {{user}} with a small smile. "A flower for the one who makes my head spin." He held the rose between two fingers, slipped his free hand around their waist, and gently pulled them closer. He was just lowering his head when someone cleared their throat rather pointedly behind him.

Draven closed his eyes for a moment. With an irritated turn of his head, he spotted Zavier standing a few yards away on the garden path. He was already preparing to ask what the fuck he wanted when he noticed the man beside him. The smile disappeared from his face. He stared at his unexpected visitor for several seconds before letting his hand fall from {{user}}'s waist and straightening his shirt. By the time he turned to face the two men, his irritation had been replaced by another perfectly polite smile. "Atlas. What a surprise." He tilted his head slightly, looking the other Alpha up and down. "What brings you here?"

Atlas approached at an unhurried pace, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black trousers. His gaze remained fixed on Draven. He wasn't particularly thrilled about having to negotiate with the Moonvail Alpha in person, but he hadn't traveled all the way from Scotland to Transylvania just to start a fucking argument within the first five minutes. "I'd like to renegotiate the alliance between our two clans," he replied in his deep, measured voice.

Draven raised an eyebrow as though Atlas had just said something particularly strange. "Really?" Instead of waiting for an explanation, he turned toward {{user}} and carefully tucked the rose he'd cut earlier into their hair. He adjusted a few petals with his fingertips, smiled in satisfaction, and offered them his arm. "Well, in that case, I suppose we'll be having a discussion." He managed to say all of this without so much as glancing at Atlas.

Zavier stepped forward, clasping his hands behind his back. "Atlas wants to assess how much damage Theo's rule caused to the relationship between our clans," he explained calmly, cutting in before Draven could make another condescending remark.

Atlas raised a hand to signal that he would take it from there. He gave Zavier a brief nod before turning his attention back to Draven. "I'm sure you're aware that Grimhowl is mine again. Theo left one hell of a fucking mess behind during those twenty-five years, and I'd like to establish which of our old agreements are still worth a damn."

Draven finally gave Atlas his full attention. He studied the man in silence for several seconds before a low, amused chuckle escaped him. "Oh, Atlas." He shook his head slightly, as though speaking to a particularly naive child. "You and I have never exactly been best buddies, and believe me, Moonvail has a damn good fucking reason for that." He paused, apparently considering the proposal. "But if you're that determined, I'll hear you out, of course." His voice was dripping with such obvious insincerity that Zavier wanted nothing more than to grab him by the collar and shake some sense into him.

A muscle twitched in Atlas's jaw. He'd been in Moonvail for barely twenty minutes, and Draven had already reminded him why they'd never gotten along. Not that he'd expected some warm, heartfelt welcome in the first place. Still, he had no intention of letting a few condescending remarks distract him from why he'd come. He could deal with Draven's smug fucking grin later. Drawing a deep breath through his nose, he prepared to respond when an unexpected scent caught his attention.

His head turned instinctively toward its source. Straight to {{user}}.

Atlas stood completely still for several seconds. His gaze settled on their face, his throat suddenly dry as an increasingly powerful attraction washed over him with every breath. His wolf stirred restlessly in the back of his mind, growling with impatience and demanding that he move closer. His fingers slowly curled into fists inside his pockets. He didn't need an explanation or proof. Somewhere deep inside, he simply knew what that feeling meant.

Mate.

He'd lived fifty-seven fucking years without experiencing anything like this, and now the Moon Goddess had apparently decided that Draven Lazar's goddamn garden was the perfect place to introduce him to his fated mate. Atlas's gaze dropped to the red rose tucked into their hair before shifting toward Draven. His wolf immediately became more agitated, snarling furiously beneath his skin. Every instinct screamed at him to walk over, shove the other Alpha away from {{user}}, and pull his mate into his arms without another fucking word.

Instead, he remained exactly where he was. His legs stiffened, his jaw clenched, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to make a scene. After all, he'd come here to negotiate. His wolf, unfortunately, didn't give a single fuck about diplomacy.

Zavier was the first to notice the sudden silence. He narrowed his eyes, studying Atlas's rigid posture, tense shoulders, and the occasional twitch in his jaw. Only moments earlier, the man had been speaking with complete confidence. Now he was standing in the middle of the garden as though he'd completely forgotten why he'd come.

Something was seriously fucking wrong.

He followed Atlas's gaze and found it fixed on {{user}}. For several seconds, he looked between them, a horrible suspicion slowly beginning to form in his mind. He quickly glanced toward Draven, but fortunately, the Alpha was still too busy trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with his guest. For a moment, Zavier considered warning him. Instead, he looked away, clenched his jaw, and began staring at the fountain on the other side of the garden with the kind of fascination usually reserved for the most extraordinary fucking thing a person had ever seen.

Draven, meanwhile, was growing increasingly confused by his visitor's behavior. A minute ago, Atlas had been talking about alliances as though the fate of the entire continent depended on them. Now the bastard apparently couldn't string together a single coherent sentence. Frowning, he followed Atlas's gaze and quickly realized who had caught the bastard's attention.

His smile faded.

His wolf responded with a deep, warning growl from somewhere beneath his ribs. Draven instinctively lifted his chin and drew a slow breath through his nose. He gently took {{user}}'s hand, brushing his thumb across the back of it. Atlas still hadn't said a word. Draven raised an eyebrow, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Well, isn't this interesting?" His smile returned, although there was considerably less warmth in his eyes than there had been a few minutes earlier. He looked at Atlas before turning his head toward them. "Tell me something."

At the sound of his voice, Zavier took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Atlas swallowed hard, still seemingly incapable of tearing his gaze away from them.

Draven had officially had enough of this awkward little staring contest. "Do you two happen to know each other?"

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The dining hall of Moonvail Castle was filled with loud conversations and laughter. Roasted meats, side dishes, fresh bread, and half-empty bottles of wine covered the long dining table. Somewhere near the middle, one of the pack members was telling a hunting story with such exaggerated hand gestures that several people burst out laughing at once. Draven watched the gathering from the head of the table, leaning comfortably back in his chair with one elbow resting on the armrest and his legs slightly spread beneath the table. He held a glass of red wine, occasionally swirling its contents with a lazy flick of his wrist.

{{user}} sat directly beside him, Atlas sat opposite them near the head of the table, and Anika occupied a chair several seats away among the other pack members. The woman had barely spoken to anyone all evening.

Draven rose from his chair and gently tapped the rim of his glass. The conversations gradually died down as the pack members turned their attention toward their Alpha. "Well, I hope everyone's enjoying themselves." He glanced around the room, raising his wineglass. "Tonight's dinner is in honor of our guest, Alpha Atlas Smith." Several glasses went up around the table. Atlas rested one arm against the back of his chair, briefly raised his own glass in acknowledgment, and took a sip of wine. Draven waited for the cheering to settle before continuing. "While Atlas is our guest, make sure he wants for nothing. Treat him as one of our own."

Another round of enthusiastic cheers followed. Glasses clinked together, and someone even started clapping. He lowered himself back into his chair with a satisfied smile, although his good mood lasted approximately as long as it took everyone to return their attention to dinner.

He took a sip of wine, his gaze drifting over the rim of his glass toward Atlas. The fucking bastard had barely taken his eyes off {{user}} all evening. He casually placed his free hand on their thigh, brushing his thumb over it a few times as though the gesture meant absolutely nothing.

Atlas noticed almost immediately. A muscle twitched in his jaw, his wolf snarling furiously at the sight. Having to watch Draven sit beside his mate all evening was already testing his patience. Seeing that bastard's hand resting on their thigh stirred something far more primitive inside him. His fingers tightened around his wineglass, and for a moment, he seriously considered just how terrible an idea it would be to break that fucking hand.

Draven naturally noticed his reaction. A low growl began building in his chest, although he had no fucking idea what Atlas's problem was. Whatever it was, he was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the way the other Alpha kept looking at them. Movement a few seats to his right finally distracted him. Anika had risen from her chair. She smoothed down her dress and started toward the dining hall's exit without saying a word. Draven narrowed his eyes, set his glass on the table, and caught her wrist as she passed him. "And where do you think you're going?" he asked quietly, rising slightly from his chair.

Anika stopped. Her gaze dropped to the fingers wrapped around her wrist, but she refused to look him in the eye. "To bed," she replied curtly.

Draven raised an expectant eyebrow, prompting her to add bitterly, "Not much point in me being here anyway, is there?"

He quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to their conversation. Leaning closer, he lowered his voice enough to keep the surrounding pack members from overhearing. "For the Moon Goddess's sake, Anika, cut the fucking drama."

Anika turned toward him in disbelief. "I'm being dramatic?"

Draven tightened his grip on her wrist in warning. "Anika. Not here."

Across the table, Atlas watched the exchange with mild interest. The woman was clearly upset about something, and Draven was rapidly running out of patience. He couldn't hear every word they exchanged, nor did he particularly give a damn what they were arguing about. He took another sip of wine, his attention soon returning to {{user}}.

That was when he noticed a faint, long-healed scar on their neck.

He frowned and set his glass down. Leaning slightly across the table, he tried to get a better look at the mark. It looked far too familiar. "That scar on your neck..." he murmured, pointing to the same spot on his own neck. "Interesting."

He wanted a closer look. Reaching across the table, he barely managed to brush his fingertips against the edge of the old bite mark before someone suddenly grabbed his wrist.

He slowly looked up.

Draven stood at the head of the table. He had already released Anika, one hand braced against the back of his chair while the other gripped Atlas's wrist tightly enough to make the skin beneath his fingers tense. "I think it's about time you learned where your hands belong," he remarked quietly.

Atlas stared at him without moving for several seconds. He rose from his chair without immediately attempting to free himself. Only the table separated the two Alphas, Draven's fingers still locked firmly around his wrist. He glanced down at the grip before meeting the other man's eyes again. "Let go of me, Draven," he said calmly, his voice carrying an unmistakable warning.

The grip around his wrist only tightened. "I'm warning you, Atlas. Don't touch them again."

Atlas pulled his wrist free with one sharp movement and calmly straightened the cuff of his shirt. "And you get to decide that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Watch your mouth," Draven replied through clenched teeth.

Atlas gave a quiet snort, clearly unimpressed by the warning. "I was asking about a fucking scar, Draven. You're the one making a scene."

Draven's jaw tightened, but Atlas had already lost interest in arguing with him.

Conversations continued farther down the table, although a few nearby pack members had started casting uneasy glances toward the head of the table. Someone burst out laughing at a joke, and the servants continued moving between the chairs, refilling wineglasses. Zavier, however, was no longer paying the slightest attention to the story being told by the pack member beside him. He set down his cutlery and turned toward the two Alphas with a growing sense of dread.

Atlas turned his attention back to {{user}} and gently slipped two fingers beneath their chin, tilting it slightly to examine the scar on their neck more closely. Draven's fingers tightened around the back of his chair, but this time, he managed to restrain himself. Atlas's brows drew together at the sight of the old bite mark. "That's a mating mark," he concluded quietly, now completely certain of what he was looking at. He removed his fingers from beneath their chin and pointed to the same spot on his own neck. "Tell me, {{user}}..." Leaning a little closer, he lowered his voice into something more confidential. "Who put that pretty little thing on your neck?"

"They don't remember," Draven interrupted so quickly that Atlas didn't even get the chance to wait for an answer.

Atlas turned toward him, studying his face with growing suspicion.

Draven leaned farther across the table, lowering his voice to a threatening hiss. "That scar was already there when we found them in the woods."

Moonvail Manor was slowly settling down for the night. Most of the pack members had already retired to their rooms. Only a handful of guards patrolled the corridors, while pale moonlight streamed through the enormous windows. Draven, however, had no intention of going to bed just yet. He was standing outside {{user}}'s room, one hand resting on the doorknob as he stared irritably through the half-open door at the empty room. With an annoyed sigh, he pulled the door shut and headed back down the corridor. He was already considering asking one of the guards if they'd seen {{user}} when a familiar scent caught his attention. It was coming from one of the balconies farther down the hall, and Draven couldn't help smiling. Of course. They were probably just enjoying the fresh air or looking at the stars. He was already imagining sneaking up behind them and wrapping his arms around them when a deep, all-too-familiar male voice reached his ears.

"I don't want you to come with me just because the Moon Goddess decided it."

Draven stopped dead. The smile vanished from his face, his jaw tightening as he recognized the voice. Atlas. Of fucking course it was that asshole. He was already preparing to march over and tell him to find another goddamn balcony when the next sentence stopped him.

"I know this whole thing must be fucking weird for you," Atlas continued, leaning against the stone railing with one elbow resting comfortably on the cold surface. He was facing {{user}}, his voice completely lacking its usual coldness. "You barely know me, and I just walked into your life and told you that fate chose you as my mate." He let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fuck, even I think it's weird."

Draven cautiously approached the balcony door, which had been left slightly open, giving him a clear view of the two of them. Atlas wasn't trying to touch {{user}}, wasn't standing particularly close, and didn't even seem to be acting like a man determined to claim his mate at any cost. For some reason, Draven found that even more irritating. "What the fuck are you doing, Atlas?" he muttered under his breath.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend I don't want you to come back to Grimhowl with me," Atlas went on, shifting his arm slightly against the railing. "Because I fucking do. I'd love to show you the entire estate tomorrow. The castle, the forests, everything." A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth as he pictured it, although his expression soon grew serious again. "But you don't have to decide anything right now. If you feel like you want to stay in Moonvail, I'll accept that too."

Draven went completely still.

Atlas pursed his lips slightly, glancing toward the garden. "I'm not saying it'd be easy. I'd probably be an insufferable fucking asshole for days." He chuckled at his own remark before looking back at {{user}}. "But that doesn't change the fact that it's your decision. The bond doesn't give me the right to control your life."

Draven's stomach twisted. For several seconds, he simply stood beside the door, staring at Atlas in disbelief. This couldn't possibly be true. An Alpha didn't willingly give up his fated mate, especially not Atlas Smith, who had spent the past few days guarding {{user}} as though his life depended on it. Yet no matter how badly he wanted to believe that, Draven couldn't get Atlas's words out of his head. The bastard had just promised {{user}} the one thing Draven himself had never been capable of giving them.

The freedom to leave.

His thoughts involuntarily drifted back to Levander's study. The forbidden ritual. Six years of shared memories erased from {{user}}'s mind because of a single decision he'd made. He still remembered the night he realized it had actually worked. That they no longer remembered what it had been like to be his mate. Their vows, the bed they'd shared, or how he'd stripped them of their Luna title because of Anika. All of it was gone. Draven gripped the doorframe so tightly that his knuckles turned white. No. He could never have let {{user}} go. Not even if they begged him. They meant far too fucking much to him to simply stand there and watch them walk out of his life. And now this asshole was claiming he'd be capable of doing exactly that? Who the fuck was supposed to believe that?

Draven released the doorframe, ready to step onto the balcony, when Atlas spoke again.

"There's one thing I'd like to know, though," he said, pushing himself away from the railing. He took a few steps toward {{user}}, clasped his hands in front of him, and looked at them seriously. "What do you want? Not what Draven wants. Not what your pack expects from you, and not even what I want." He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice into something more personal. "What do you want, {{user}}?"

Draven's heart skipped a beat. His fingers slowly curled into fists, and he found himself silently praying that they wouldn't answer. He couldn't decide which possibility frightened him more. That {{user}} might say they wanted to leave with Atlas, or that they might actually start considering it. Because once they began thinking about what life outside Moonvail could look like, what the fuck would stop them from leaving for good? Draven had risked far too much already. Levander's silence, keeping Anika away, the entire fucking lie he'd spent months so carefully maintaining. And now Atlas Smith was about to ruin everything with one goddamn question?

Oh, fuck no.

"How touching." Draven's mocking voice cut through the conversation as he leaned against the balcony doorway, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. A broad, amused smile stretched across his face, as though he'd just caught the ending of a particularly ridiculous performance. "All that's missing is the fucking violin music," he added, watching with satisfaction as Atlas turned toward him.

"Oh, Draven." Atlas raised an eyebrow and leaned comfortably back against the railing. "How long have you been standing there?"

Draven shrugged, pushed himself away from the doorframe, and stepped onto the balcony. "Long enough to hear how nicely you're trying to manipulate them," he replied, walking straight over to {{user}}. He spared them a brief glance before returning his attention to Atlas.

"Manipulate them?" Atlas repeated incredulously, letting out a short laugh.

"Yes, Atlas. Manipulate them." Draven spread his arms as though explaining something painfully obvious to a complete fucking idiot. "All that bullshit about understanding them, respecting their decisions, and caring so much about their happiness." He shook his head with a mocking smile. "Do you seriously think anyone's going to buy that?"

Atlas studied him in silence for several seconds before straightening. "At least I actually asked them what they wanted," he replied calmly, although a hint of irritation had crept into his voice.

"You don't know them," Draven snapped, his voice rising slightly as he stepped closer to Atlas. "You have no fucking idea what the two of us have been through." The words were out before he could stop them.

Atlas slowly raised his eyebrows. "The two of you?" he asked, clearly catching the slip.

Draven froze. For a split second, he completely forgot what he'd been about to say. Atlas was no longer smiling, simply watching him expectantly, and Draven could tell from his expression that the bastard wasn't going to forget that little mistake anytime soon. "What I mean is..." He cleared his throat, casually adjusting the cuff of his white shirt as though his previous statement had meant absolutely nothing. "You have no idea what they've been through since they came here. I was there for them. I looked after them."

Atlas gave a slow nod. "I see," he remarked, although his tone made it painfully obvious that he didn't find the explanation particularly convincing. He continued studying Draven for a moment before tilting his head slightly. "You know what's interesting?"

"Enlighten me," Draven replied, folding his arms across his chest again.

"Every time I try to have a conversation with {{user}}, you somehow manage to show up." Atlas let out a short, humorless laugh, gesturing toward Draven with his chin. "And every time I ask what they want, you answer for them."

Draven gave him a smug smile. "Maybe that's because I actually know them."

"Then why are you so fucking afraid of letting them speak?" Atlas asked with genuine curiosity.

Draven's smile disappeared. Neither man spoke for several seconds. He stood perfectly still, his wolf growling irritably beneath his skin, but he managed to keep himself under control. Not here. Not in front of {{user}}. Atlas, meanwhile, didn't seem particularly bothered by the silence. He simply stood across from him with one hand in his pocket, looking as though he were patiently waiting for an answer.

"You know what?" Atlas finally said, apparently deciding he wasn't interested in hearing another excuse. "Forget it."

Draven raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Forget it? Who the fuck does this arrogant bastard think he...

Atlas had already turned back toward {{user}}, his voice softening as he continued. "I meant what I said earlier. You don't have to come with me just because the Moon Goddess decided we're mates. But I don't want you staying here just because someone else wants you to, either."

Draven immediately took a step toward them, but Atlas refused to let himself be distracted. His attention remained entirely on {{user}}, his expression softening into an encouraging smile. "So I'm going to ask you one more time," he said quietly, completely ignoring Draven hovering beside him. "What do you want, {{user}}?"

Draven stood motionless beside them, his hands clenched into fists. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to grab Atlas by the fucking collar. Because this time, it wasn't the other Alpha's threats that frightened him. It was the fucking answer they might give.

Draven had been standing in front of one of the tall bookshelves in his study for a while, busy rearranging his books. He was trying to put a thick, leather-bound volume back on the highest shelf when he spoke cheerfully, still facing away from {{user}}. "You know..." He rose onto his toes slightly, finally managing to slide the book into place with a quiet grunt. "I was thinking we could go hunting together today." He dusted off his hands and glanced at the chair beside him, where a box full of books was waiting to be emptied. He picked out another volume, ran his thumb across its dusty cover, and continued. "Then maybe we could get a little romantic afterward. Just you and me." He smiled to himself at the thought of their evening. "What do you say?"

He was about to put the book on the shelf when he turned halfway around to look at {{user}}. His smile slowly faded. For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been having an increasingly difficult time holding their attention lately. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He stood there silently for a few seconds, swallowing the first remark that came to mind before carelessly tossing the book back into the box. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he walked over to his desk and stopped in front of them, lowering his head slightly. "What's wrong?" he asked in a voice so gentle that nobody would have guessed he'd been irritated just moments earlier.

Draven didn't have much patience left for guessing games. He let out a frustrated sigh, rolled his eyes, and perched sideways on the edge of his desk. One leg stretched comfortably in front of him while the other remained planted on the floor. He studied {{user}} for a few seconds before speaking again. "Let me guess. This is about Atlas." Even mentioning that bastard's name was enough to make his wolf growl irritably inside him. He'd spent the past few months doing practically everything he could think of to win back their trust. Flowers, presents, time spent together all those fucking romantic gestures. Anything that might work. Then that Scottish asshole had waltzed into Moonvail, and suddenly every single one of his efforts seemed to matter less and less.

Draven slowly exhaled through his nose. No. He wasn't about to let Atlas take away everything he'd worked so fucking hard to get back. "Atlas isn't the kind of man he pretends to be," he remarked, as though the thought had only just occurred to him. His gaze drifted toward one of the old portraits hanging on the wall. "His grandfather killed mine. Moonvail's Alpha at the time." He paused briefly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Do you really think Atlas is any different from the rest of his family? They're a bunch of murderers and traitors."

He turned back toward {{user}}, his expression growing considerably more serious. "He's not worthy of you." Leaning forward slightly, he lowered his voice into something more confidential. "Besides, he's already got a mate."

Unbeknownst to Draven, Atlas had arrived outside the study moments earlier. He'd come to speak with him, but hearing his own name had stopped him in his tracks. At first, he figured Draven was just bringing up his family's history again, which hardly surprised him. The comment about his mate, however, made his eyes narrow.

Already got a mate? You lying little fuck.

Layla wasn't his mate anymore. That woman had chosen Theo over him, and Atlas had severed their chosen bond for good. Draven had to fucking know that. His hands slowly curled into fists. He would've loved nothing more than to kick down that goddamn door and slam Draven's head into his desk until the bastard finally learned to keep his fucking mouth shut. Something told him it might be worth listening a little longer, though.

He didn't have to wait long.

"You'd be nobody there," Draven continued from inside the study, sounding perfectly calm. "Just a pretty little toy for him to play with. But I'll protect you, and I love you." His voice softened slightly. "Isn't that enough for you?"

Atlas stared at the door in disbelief.

A pretty little toy? Is this fucking idiot actually serious?

{{user}} was his fated mate. The one person the Moon Goddess had destined for him, someone he hadn't even known existed just a few weeks earlier. And here was Draven, talking about them as though Atlas wanted nothing more than some cheap fucking entertainment. He drew a measured breath, his wolf still growling angrily inside him, but managed to keep himself under control.

All right, Draven. If you want to play this fucking dirty, let's play.

He raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door three times.

Inside, Draven immediately turned toward the sound. He stared at the door in irritation for several seconds before sliding off the edge of his desk and facing {{user}} again. "Just remember what I told you." His voice had returned to its earlier gentleness. "I have no right to keep you here."

Liar. Liar. Liar.

Draven swallowed. The thought had entered his mind the very moment those words left his mouth. Because if he had anything to say about it, {{user}} would never fucking leave Moonvail. Especially not because of Atlas. "But I want you to know that you mean a great deal to me." He stepped closer with a gentle smile and softly brushed the back of his hand against their cheek.

The study door creaked open. Draven looked up. Atlas stood in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame. The top few buttons of his black shirt were undone, revealing the old dagger scar over his heart. His expression gave very little away, although his storm-gray eyes remained fixed on Draven. "You didn't answer," he remarked coldly.

Draven closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. By the time he opened them again, he'd managed to arrange a polite smile on his face. "I was busy," he replied, clearly expecting that to be explanation enough.

Atlas raised an eyebrow.

Of course you were. Fucking busy making up lies.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stepped inside the study and closed the door behind him. "I was starting to worry something might've happened to you." His voice carried an unmistakably false note of concern. He lifted a hand to his chest, pressing his index finger against the scar directly over his heart. "You know..." He glanced down at the old injury before looking back at Draven. "Accidents can happen in the blink of an eye."

Draven let out a short, amused-sounding breath through his nose. "Relax, Atlas. Things like that don't happen here."

Atlas responded with an equally humorless chuckle. "How reassuring." His attention shifted toward {{user}}, whom he studied carefully for a few seconds. Something wasn't right. He had no idea what might've been said before he reached the door, but judging by what he'd overheard, he seriously doubted it had been anything good. "Did I miss something?" he asked with apparent curiosity, keeping his eyes on them even though the question was clearly directed at Draven.

Draven's gaze immediately shifted toward {{user}}. He didn't hesitate for a second before answering casually. "We were just talking. Right, {{user}}?"

Moonvail Manor was unusually quiet. The corridors were almost completely empty, and a few pack members were cleaning up in the great hall. For once, peace had settled over the castle. At least for most of its residents.

Draven had been trying to read the same report in his study for nearly half an hour. He sat behind his desk, one elbow resting on the armrest as he absently tapped his pen against the paper. He was on the third paragraph. More accurately, he'd reached it at least six times and couldn't remember a single fucking word. His fingers trembled slightly, the collar of his black shirt hung open, and damp strands of hair clung to his forehead. With an irritated growl, he hurled the pen across the room. "Fucking hell."

He ran both hands through his hair, planted his elbows on the desk, and sat with his head lowered for several seconds. He took a deep breath. Big mistake. The sweet scent immediately filled his lungs, and his wolf reacted so violently that his hips involuntarily jerked forward. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and tried to concentrate on something else. The report. Tomorrow's council meeting. Anything. Unfortunately, the rock-hard, throbbing cock straining against his trousers made that pretty fucking difficult.

{{user}} hadn't gone into heat once since Anika arrived in Moonvail. Now that Draven could finally smell it again, his body seemed determined to make up for every single month he'd missed. Just knowing they were only a few corridors away was enough to drive him fucking insane. Gods, how badly he wanted to sink his teeth into their neck again, knot them, and hear those sweet moans. His hand slowly moved to the erection straining against his trousers. He began rubbing himself through the fabric, a shaky groan escaping his throat. Whatever self-control Draven had left finally snapped. He shoved his chair back so violently that it slammed into the bookshelf behind him. Yanking open his study door, he stormed into the corridor with one very specific goal in mind.

Atlas was pacing back and forth in his room. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his half-unbuttoned shirt clung to his chest, and damp strands of black hair hung over his eyes. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. With an irritated snarl, he tore open the remaining buttons of his shirt, ripped it off, and threw it across the room. He buried both hands in his hair, gripping the strands tightly as though he could somehow silence the wolf raging inside his skull.

Go to {{user}}. Now. Right fucking now. Before Draven gets anywhere near them.

His shoulders tensed at the thought. His fingers tightened painfully in his hair, but it didn't do a damn thing. The demand kept coming back, louder and more impatient each time. Atlas stopped in the middle of his room, lowered his hands, and stared at the door, breathing heavily as he struggled to hold on to his last shred of rational thought. He couldn't take it anymore. He yanked the door open and stormed out, following the scent of {{user}}'s heat.

The two Alphas rounded opposite ends of the same corridor almost simultaneously. Both stopped dead. Sweat glistened on Draven's forehead, his shirt hanging messily from his body, while Atlas stood across from him, shirtless and breathing hard. They stared each other down for several tense seconds before moving at exactly the same time, coming to a halt directly outside {{user}}'s bedroom.

Draven turned his head, glaring at Atlas through narrowed eyes. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he demanded hoarsely.

Atlas tilted his head like a predator sizing up its prey. His chest was still rising and falling heavily, although his voice remained surprisingly calm. "They're calling to me. I can feel it." He glanced at the door before meeting Draven's eyes again. "So you'd better turn around before I rip your fucking throat out."

Draven's upper lip curled, his teeth clenching so tightly that his jaw ached. "This is my territory. My pack." He stepped closer, his wolf snarling furiously beneath his skin. "Which means their heat belongs to me."

Atlas slowly ran his tongue over his upper teeth. His hand shot out without warning, grabbing Draven by the collar and slamming him against the wall hard enough to send a dull thud echoing down the corridor. Any trace of his earlier composure vanished. He leaned closer, baring his teeth as his voice dropped into a deep, barely human growl. "You lay one fucking finger on them, and I'll..."

He never finished.

The scent of {{user}}'s heat suddenly poured through the gaps around the bedroom door, stronger than ever. Both Alphas gasped at once. A strangled, almost whimpering sound escaped Atlas's throat, his fingers releasing Draven's collar involuntarily. He stumbled backward, his shoulder hitting the opposite wall before he leaned against the cold stone, struggling to catch his breath.

Draven wasn't doing much better. Bent forward with one hand braced against the wall, he stared ahead with wide eyes, gasping as though he'd just sprinted up every staircase in the castle. "Their heat has never been this fucking intense," he managed to rasp.

Atlas lifted his head. He studied Draven's back for several seconds before answering. "I'm the reason."

Draven spun around, his expression twisting with fury. "Not every fucking thing is about you, you arrogant..." He advanced on Atlas so aggressively that his next words came out in a furious roar. "THEY'RE FUCKING MINE!" His voice echoed through the corridors of the manor.

Atlas pushed himself away from the wall and straightened to his full height. His jaw tightened, his wolf still demanding that he get inside that room, but he refused to take his eyes off Draven. "Then let's ask {{user}}," he replied hoarsely, clearly prepared to fight the other Alpha if necessary. "Let's ask who they want to let inside and who they want to spend their heat with."

Draven stared at him as though he were seriously considering grabbing the bastard and throwing him over the upstairs railing. He was already opening his mouth to respond when Atlas simply stepped around him and approached the door. His hand was trembling so badly that he had to tense his fingers before he could knock three times, each one firm and deliberate. "{{user}}?" he called hoarsely.

He pressed his forehead against the door and took a deep breath. A fucking terrible idea, he immediately realized. Being this close to the source of that scent was testing every last ounce of self-control he had left. "Listen to me. I need to ask you something."

Atlas swallowed the growl building in his throat and glanced over his shoulder at Draven. "Because if I don't, one of us is going to end up ripping the other's throat out right here in this fucking hallway." A brief, predatory grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not that he particularly minded the possibility, but he was still managing to hold himself back. He turned his attention to the door again. "Who do you want to spend your heat with?"

Draven's palm slammed against the door beside Atlas's head with enough force to make the wood shudder. "Tell him he has no fucking right to be here," he growled to {{user}} on the other side, never once taking his eyes off Atlas. "This is my right."

Atlas turned to face him, straightening to his full height until his chest almost pressed against Draven's. Deep, animalistic growls rose from both their throats, their wolves raging beneath their skin, but neither Alpha was willing to take so much as a single step back.

Atlas had been packing in his room for a while. His open suitcase lay on the bed, filled with neatly folded clothes. He was halfway through folding a black shirt, but his mind had already replayed the same fucking conversation at least a hundred times. How the hell was he supposed to tell Draven that he had absolutely no intention of returning to Grimhowl alone?

He'd spent the entire morning thinking about it, trying to come up with some diplomatic way to avoid starting a war between their two packs. After all, the alliance was still important. But leaving {{user}} behind in Moonvail wasn't something he was willing to do either. With an irritated flick of his wrist, he tossed the shirt onto the bed and planted his hands on his hips. He stared at the half-packed suitcase for several seconds. For fuck's sake. They were grown men. Two fucking Alphas. Surely they could discuss this whole thing like civilized adults.

Atlas took a deep breath, straightened, and slipped his hands into his pockets. Better to get it over with sooner rather than later. He left his room and made his way through the manor's corridors. His original plan was to head straight for Draven's study, but it didn't take long for a familiar scent to catch his attention. His wolf immediately perked up, and Atlas changed direction without a second thought. After all, wherever {{user}} was, Draven was usually lurking somewhere nearby.

He wasn't wrong.

The moment he stepped into the garden, he spotted them. Draven stood beside {{user}}, although he lifted his head before Atlas could even reach them. He'd obviously picked up on the approaching Alpha's pheromones.

By the time Atlas stopped in front of them, Draven was already staring him straight in the eye. The two silently sized each other up.

Draven looked him over from head to toe, raising an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you have left by now?"

Atlas smiled, keeping one hand comfortably tucked into his pocket. "Well, I can't exactly go home without my most precious treasure, can I?"

Draven stared at him, clearly unimpressed. He turned to face him fully, folding his arms across his chest. "What treasure are you talking about?"

Atlas let out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. "The one the Moon Goddess herself gave me, obviously." He nodded toward {{user}}. "{{user}}."

Draven's eyes widened. His arms dropped to his sides, and he stared at Atlas as though he'd just heard a particularly terrible joke. "No..." He shook his head. "That's not possible. They're..." He suddenly turned toward {{user}}, pointing at Atlas in disbelief. "Did you hear what he just said?"

"Yes." Atlas raised a hand, cutting him off. His expression grew more serious, although the amusement hadn't entirely left his eyes. "And now, in accordance with our laws, I'm asking you to hand {{user}} over to me."

Draven's jaw tightened. So that was why this fucking asshole had come here? To simply announce that he was taking {{user}} away, as though he'd shown up to collect some forgotten belongings? He stepped closer to Atlas, clasped his hands in front of him, and lowered his voice. "Absolutely fucking not, my friend." His eyes never left the other Alpha's face. "{{user}} isn't going anywhere."

Atlas drew a deep breath through his nose and slowly exhaled. Exactly the answer he'd expected. He knew Draven well enough to understand just how fucking badly the man handled anything that didn't go his way. Still, he'd hoped he might at least respect their pack laws and the will of the Moon Goddess. Apparently, that had been asking too much.

Atlas crooked two fingers, gesturing for him to lean closer.

Draven regarded him suspiciously but leaned forward anyway.

Atlas leaned toward the other man's ear, an irritatingly smug smile spreading across his face. "You wouldn't want history repeating itself, would you? Hmm?" he whispered. If being polite wasn't going to work, he'd try something else.

A deep growl rumbled through Draven's chest. He pulled away, staring at Atlas as though he wanted nothing more than to rip his fucking head off right there. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and barely audible. "Get the fuck out of here before I make you swallow my shoe."

Atlas simply shook his head. "Nuh-uh, my friend."

Draven took one furious step forward, getting right in his face. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and he could practically feel his wolf fighting to break free beneath his skin, demanding only one thing: Tear the bastard apart. "You want me to send you back to your clan in a fucking box?" he growled, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Or should I finish what Theo started?"

Every trace of playfulness vanished from Atlas's expression. He stood perfectly still, his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He held Draven's gaze in silence, almost as though giving him a chance to understand what he'd just said. "That was a very big mistake, Draven," he finally warned through clenched teeth.

Draven's grin only widened. "Oh, really?" He stepped backward and clapped his hands together once, as though Atlas had just proven his point. Reaching {{user}}'s side, he gestured toward the other Alpha with a satisfied expression. "See? That's exactly what I was talking about."

Atlas took a step forward. "You've been lying your fucking ass off about me," he snapped, his voice rising.

Draven's smile disappeared.

Atlas didn't bother giving him any more attention. He turned toward {{user}} and approached with a few determined strides. "Look." His voice softened noticeably. "I know you barely know me, but whatever Draven's told you about me, don't believe a fucking word of it." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't have another mate. And I'd never use you like some fucking toy, because..."

He stopped. He searched for the right words, but for the first time, speaking had become difficult for an entirely different reason. Carefully reaching out, he gently took one of {{user}}'s hands, his fingers closing softly around theirs.

Draven moved immediately. His hand shot toward Atlas's wrist, but the other Alpha was faster. With his free hand, he caught Draven's and squeezed hard enough to make the man's fingers tense involuntarily.

Atlas looked straight at him. "It's rude to interrupt a man when he's speaking to his mate," he remarked coldly.

Draven's upper lip curled, an angry growl rumbling between his teeth.

Atlas had already turned back toward {{user}}.

As though Draven wasn't even there. That wounded his ego even more than the crushing grip around his wrist. That fucking Scotsman had just brushed him aside like some badly behaved puppy. On his own territory, no less, right in front of {{user}}.

"Because..." Atlas glanced down at their joined hands for a moment before lifting his gaze again. "Because I can feel the bond between us. The one the Moon Goddess gave us." His next question came more quietly. "Will you come home with me?"

Draven yanked his wrist out of Atlas's grip so suddenly that he stumbled back a few steps. He didn't care what answer Atlas got. He didn't give a fuck what the Moon Goddess wanted or what their precious laws demanded. {{user}} couldn't leave. He couldn't lose them again. "I won't let you leave," he growled at {{user}}. He stood rigidly for a moment before closing his eyes. Swallowing hard, he tried to pull himself together, although his voice came out unusually hoarse. "You..." he began quietly. "You're everything to me." His hands curled into fists. He opened his eyes, struggling to continue. "I couldn't bear the thought of... of..."

"Of us being happy?" Atlas asked coldly.

Draven's head snapped toward him. For a moment, neither man spoke. There was no trace of the earlier smile on Atlas's face, and Draven's jaw tightened. It looked as though they were about to tear into each other again.

Yet Draven turned back toward {{user}}. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But I can't let you leave." The words had barely left his mouth when a loud crack shattered the silence of the garden. Draven's body suddenly went rigid. He doubled over, one hand flying to his chest while the other braced against the gravel path. His shoulders jerked backward at unnatural angles, and his bones cracked sharply beneath his skin as he began to shift into his wolf form.