When My Alpha Lost Me to the Lycan Prince

The drive down the mountain was a blur of dark trees and blinding snow. I gripped the steering wheel until my hands went numb. My chest felt like an empty, bleeding cavern. The snapped mate bond was a phantom fire, burning me from the inside out. I gasped for air, but my lungs wouldn't fill. I felt like I was suffocating in my own car.

I didn't stop until I hit Denver. The city lights blurred through my tears. I parked outside a dimly lit dive bar. A faint neon sign buzzed in the window, marking it as a wolf-friendly lounge. I pushed through the heavy wooden doors and sank onto a stool at the far end of the bar.

"Tequila," I told the bartender. "Leave the bottle."

I drank. I wanted to drown the agony. I wanted to forget the sound of Rhett's guttural howl. I wanted to wash away the lingering stench of Paris's vanilla perfume. Three shots in, the sharp edges of my grief finally started to blur.

Then, it hit me.

It wasn't a subtle shift. It was an explosion. A scent so rich and intoxicating it cut straight through the stale beer and smoke of the bar. *Dark amber and rain-soaked pine.* It wrapped around me like a heavy, warm blanket. The phantom pain in my chest stopped instantly.

Deep inside my mind, Reya stirred. My wolf had been whimpering in a curled, broken ball since the mountain cabin. Now, she lifted her head. Her ears perked up.

*Mate,* she whispered.

My breath caught. That was impossible. You only got one fated mate. But the scent was pulling me, tugging at my very soul. I turned my head.

He was sitting at a corner booth, watching me. He was younger than me, with messy dark hair and eyes that held the depth of a midnight storm. He wasn't looking at me with pity. He looked at me with absolute, undeniable certainty. Like I was the only person in the room. Like I was a prize he had been waiting his whole life to find.

The alcohol and the grief made me reckless. I slid off my stool. My legs felt heavy, but the scent pulled me forward like a magnet. I stopped right in front of his table. He stood up slowly. He was tall, his chest broad and solid beneath his dark jacket.

I didn't think. I just reached up, grabbed his lapels, and kissed him.

I expected him to push me away. Instead, his large hands immediately found my waist. He pulled me flush against his hard body. He kissed me back with a fierce, breathless reverence. It wasn't a sloppy bar kiss. He held me like I was made of glass, like I was something sacred.

It shattered the last of my walls.

I finally pulled away, my chest heaving. I stared up at him, my lips tingling.

He smiled. It was a soft, boyish smile that made my heart do a strange flip. "Maverick," he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble.

I didn't give him my name. I just let him lead me out of the bar. We stumbled into a hotel a few blocks down. I told myself I would leave before dawn. I would just use his heat to survive the night. But the second I hit the mattress, wrapped in his intoxicating scent, I passed out completely.

Sunlight stabbed my eyes. I groaned, rolling over. My head pounded with a vicious hangover.

I expected the bed to be empty. I expected to be alone with my shame. But when I opened my eyes, Maverick was sitting in a chair by the window. He was fully dressed, watching me with that same intense gaze. On the nightstand sat a tray of room service. Black coffee and a blueberry muffin. My exact order.

Before I could ask how he knew, my phone buzzed on the bed.

The screen flashed. *Rhett.* 24 missed calls.

Panic spiked in my chest. I reached for it, but Maverick was faster. He snatched the phone from the sheets and swiped to answer.

"Give me that!" I hissed.

Maverick held up a finger. He put the phone to his ear. "She's busy," he said.

His voice was casual, almost lazy. But underneath it, there was a heavy, suffocating pressure. It wasn't an Alpha tone. It was something deeper, something that made Reya bare her neck in instant submission.

I could hear Rhett snarling through the speaker. *"Who the hell is this? Put Claire on right now! She is my mate!"*

Maverick chuckled. The sound was dark and possessive. "She's no longer your concern. Stand down."

He spoke like a king dismissing a peasant. Rhett's voice cut out as Maverick calmly ended the call.

"What are you doing?" I snapped, snatching the phone from his hand. My hands were shaking. "You shouldn't have done that. Last night... last night was a mistake. I just broke a bond. I'm a mess."

I scrambled out of bed and grabbed my coat from the floor. I shoved my arms into the sleeves, avoiding his eyes. I expected him to argue. I expected him to use his commanding tone on me to make me stay.

Instead, Maverick just picked up a pen from the desk. He scribbled something on a napkin and held it out to me. It was his phone number.

"I'm not him, Claire," Maverick said softly. His eyes were warm, stripping away all my defenses. "You'll see."

He didn't block the door. He just watched me go. And as I walked out into the cold morning air, his scent followed me, a promise I was terrified to believe.