Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 11

**Ezra's POV**

 

I couldn't stop thinking about the girl who walked into me and Evanthe at the beauty center.

 

Now I stood at the window of my private office, staring out at the silver moonlight bathing the grounds of Silver Moon Headquarters. The night was peaceful, but my mind was anything but.

 

Name is Isolde, they told me.

 

Even her name felt like a forbidden incantation on my tongue. Her image haunted me ceaselessly—those deep blue eyes that seemed to look right through me, the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her chestnut curls cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves. Those long, elegant legs that moved with the grace of a dancer despite her warrior's strength.

 

She was fucking perfect. Everything I could have dreamed of in a mate.

 

*We should claim her, Prime,* my wolf urged within me. *She's ours. Our second chance.*

 

"Silence," I growled aloud, my hands gripping the windowsill until my knuckles turned white.

 

Second chance. The words echoed painfully in my chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen—finding another mate so unexpectedly. The universe had a sick sense of humor, offering me this gift now when I had no desire to accept it.

 

And why her? A common werewolf from Emerald Valley, not even a pureblooded Lycan. Protecting her would be even more difficult. My enemies would see her as an easy target, a weakness they could exploit.

 

I closed my eyes, memories of my first mate flooding back, bringing with them the familiar wave of anguish. The hollowness that had carved itself into my soul when she died had never fully healed. Could I really risk that again? Open myself to that kind of devastating loss?

 

No. The answer was clear. I would ignore this bond. Keep it secret. I was the fucking Alpha—I answered to no one, not even fate itself.

 

Yet something puzzled me. If Isolde truly was my mate, why hadn't she said anything? Did she feel the connection as I did? Or was she completely unaware? The uncertainty gnawed at me, feeding my frustration.

 

The soft click of my office door interrupted my thoughts. A familiar scent—jasmine and vanilla, too strong, too calculated—filled the room.

 

Evanthe stood in the doorway.

 

"We were interrupted, " she purred, reaching out to touch my chest. "I'm here to finish that..."

 

Once, this would have been exactly what I needed. After losing my mate, my sexual urges had become nearly uncontrollable—a desperate attempt by Prime to find some comfort, some escape from the pain of our broken bond. For years, I'd sought release in the willing bodies of different women, using sex to temporarily numb the constant agony.

 

My size alone had been a challenge; few could accommodate me comfortably. Evanthe had been one of the few who could handle what I gave her, who didn't shy away from my massive cock and aggressive needs. She'd been a regular in my bed.

 

But now, looking at her, I felt... nothing. No desire. No need. Only mild irritation.

 

"Evanthe, stop." I turned my face away when she tried to kiss me. "Step back," I commanded, my voice laced with authority.

 

She immediately obeyed—she knew better than to defy a direct order—but confusion and displeasure flashed across her perfect features.

 

"What's wrong?" she asked, running her hands down her body. "Don't you like what I'm wearing tonight? Should I change something?"

 

"No," I replied coldly, fixing her with a hard stare. "I didn't summon you, so I don't know why you're here. I don't want to spend time with you tonight. Leave."

 

Her eyes widened in shock. "But... why? Is it because of that girl who walked in on us today? That nosy bitch?"

 

My temper flared instantly at her words. "Are you questioning my decisions?" My voice thundered through the room, my eyes flashing danger. She backed away, her face paling with fear.

 

"No... of course not. I would never. I'm sorry, my Alpha," she stammered, lowering her gaze submissively.

 

"Get out of my sight. Now."

 

When the door closed behind her, I exhaled heavily, running a hand through my hair. Even through the wooden door, I could sense her rage, carefully contained but visceral.

 

I returned to the window, my thoughts circling back to Isolde like a predator stalking its prey.

 

*She is our mate,* Prime insisted again. *You cannot deny it.*

 

I couldn't. The way my wolf had reacted to her scent, to her presence—there was no mistaking it. And now, after just one day of knowing she existed, I had lost all interest in Evanthe and the other women who used to satisfy me.

 

Yet I didn't want this. I didn't want another mate. I didn't want the vulnerability, the responsibility, the inevitable pain that would come.

 

*We need time,* I thought, trying to appease Prime's restlessness. The wolf within me was growing increasingly agitated by my refusal to acknowledge what we both knew to be true.

 

Time. That's what I needed. Time to process this unwelcome twist of fate. Time to figure out how to continue ignoring this bond that threatened to upend everything I'd built.

 

For now, I would keep my distance. I would not tell Isolde or anyone else the truth. The last thing I needed was to open my heart again, only to have it ripped out once more.

 

I would not put myself through that hell again—not even for those captivating blue eyes and the promise of completion they held.

 

---

 

The next morning, I sat in my executive office reviewing quarterly financial reports when Nathaniel knocked on my door.

 

"Enter," I called without looking up.

 

"Good morning, Alpha," he greeted formally. "I have the files on the new Alliance Program recruits you requested."

 

I finally raised my eyes, fighting to keep my expression neutral. "Just leave them on the desk."

 

"There's something else." I hesitated. "The girl, what happed to her?"

 

"Isolde Blackwood?"

 

I leaned back in my chair, feigning casual. "Yes."

 

"She's been punished. And she'll spend a day in solitary confinement."

 

"How do you think of her?"

 

"She's quite remarkable, actually. Top of her class in academics. Multiple championship titles in martial arts. According to her father, she's never been defeated in single combat by anyone in her age group."

 

The information pleased me. Of course my mate would be exceptional. But I couldn't let Nathaniel see my interest.

 

"And the sister?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

 

"Less impressive. Social media influencer type. No combat skills to speak of. But politically connected through her mother."

 

I nodded dismissively. "That will be all, Nathaniel."

 

After he left, I reached for the file labeled "Isolde Blackwood" and opened it.