Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 76

Ezra's POV

I was losing it. Completely, fucking losing it. Even in my sleep, Isolde haunted me.

Last night's dream was her—those deep blue eyes piercing through me, her chestnut hair spilling over bare shoulders. I woke up with her name on my lips, my first damn thought of the day. And as I sifted through Silver Moon Group reports, her voice echoed in my mind, a phantom distraction.

It was like she was unraveling me piece by piece, tearing down every wall I'd built. She didn't even have to try. She just *was*, and I was wrecked.

*She's your mate, Ezra. Your second chance at a destined bond,* Prime growled in my head, his voice a relentless drumbeat. *This torment is natural. You're fighting what's meant to be. Tell her. Accept her. This madness will ease if you do.*

"Prime, can you find a less annoying way to make your point? Like shutting the hell up for a while?" I snapped internally, rubbing my temples.

*You know damn well if I go silent, you'll lose the edge that keeps you as the Lycan King and ruler of Silver Moon,* Prime retorted, unyielding. *My voice is your strength.*

"You're supposed to support me, not lecture me like I'm some clueless pup," I shot back, irritation clawing at me.

*I'll stop reminding you when you finally make the right choice,* he countered with that infuriating certainty of his.

I sighed heavily, a sound that felt like it dragged from the depths of my chest. "I've had enough of your bullshit for one night. Leave me be."

I shut him out—or tried to—but deep down, I knew he was right. And that pissed me off even more.

Leaning back in my chair, I let out a low groan. This chaos, this ache—it was karma biting me in the ass for refusing to do what was "right."

My body punished me with restless heat, my mind with endless loops of her face, my spirit with a hollow yearning I couldn't shake. I had reasons to keep Isolde away—reasons tied to the mate I lost, to the pain I swore never to feel again. But knowing that didn't stop the torment.

My hand reached for the remote on the table, but paused as my gaze snagged on my phone instead. One call. That's all it would take. Twenty minutes, and Isolde could be here from the Moon Alliance dorms, standing in front of me. The memory of the last time she was here flooded in—how close I came to losing control, how every fiber of me screamed to claim her. No. I needed another night without her to get my shit together.

A sharp knock at the door cut through my thoughts.

"Come in," I said, voice flat and cold.

The door creaked open softly.

"Alpha Ezra," a familiar voice purred, resonating through me like a shockwave.

My head snapped to the right so fast it nearly cracked my neck. Evanthe.

Fucking hell! She stood there, shedding her coat with deliberate slowness until it pooled at her feet.

Beneath it? Nothing. Just bare skin glowing under the dim lights of my penthouse. Her full breasts hung perfectly, nipples hard and pointed in the cool air.

My eyes involuntarily traced down her flat stomach to the neatly trimmed patch between her thighs, her long legs accentuated by the stiletto heels she was still wearing. The body that once drove me wild now displayed like merchandise I no longer wanted to buy.

My expression froze, eyebrows shooting up in sheer disbelief. What in the actual fuck was this?

"Evanthe," I growled, voice low and dangerous. "What is this supposed to mean?"

She didn't answer—just sauntered toward me, her breasts bouncing slightly with each step, aiming to straddle my lap like she owned me. Before she could close the distance, I seized her right arm, halting her mid-step, and pushed her back with controlled force.

"Alpha Ezra," she gasped, stumbling backward, eyes wide with shock. Disbelief painted her face—she couldn't fathom being rejected like this.

"Stop," I bit out through clenched teeth.

Her gaze locked on mine, awestruck and wounded, as if this refusal was unthinkable. And maybe before Isolde, it would've been. But not now.

"Why?" Her voice cracked, raw and broken. "Why are you telling me to stop? You've *never* told me to stop before."

I took a deep breath, shifting in my seat.

Looking at her naked form now felt... transactional. There was no trace of the desire that once burned hot between us.

Her wet, ready pussy that previously would have had me hard in seconds now left me completely unmoved.

Back before Isolde crashed into my world, Evanthe was my favorite distraction—summoned several times a week, her body a reliable escape that ignited me effortlessly. Not anymore. Now, I just wanted distance from her.

"I don't owe you an explanation, Evanthe," I said icily. "When I say I don't want you, you respect that and stay away from me."

Her lips trembled as she challenged, "And if I can't?"

I frowned, pinning her with a look of incredulity. "What?"

"We had something special, Alpha Ezra," she insisted, desperation creeping into her tone.

"We fucked," I corrected bluntly, cutting through her delusion.

"It was *special* fucking," she pressed, clinging to some warped memory.

"I'm done, Evanthe," I stated with finality, fatigue lacing my words. "Leave now before I call security to drag you out and humiliate you." My eyes flashed gold again—a warning backed by raw Alpha power.

She reached out tentatively to touch my face, but I jerked my head away, fixing her with a glare that screamed I was serious—and pissed as hell.

Slowly, silently, she bent down to retrieve her coat from the floor, wrapping it around herself like a shield. Tears streaked down her cheeks, smearing mascara in dark trails as she turned and walked out of my penthouse without another word.

I leaned back against the plush leather sofa, closing my eyes with a heavy sigh. Not even a flicker of guilt stirred in me over this—I didn't have room for it. From day one, I made it crystal clear to Evanthe that whatever we had was casual, physical, nothing more. Her stubbornness, thinking she could force emotions into this arrangement or claim something deeper from me—it was delusional bullshit.

Now that I'd found my true mate, any possibility of revisiting things with her was dead. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next. Never fucking ever! Prime rumbled in agreement within me—a rare moment of alignment between us—and it felt like maybe I was finally starting to face reality.

Another sigh escaped me as I sank deeper into the couch cushions, eyes still shut against the world outside my thoughts. Honestly? I'd rather spend all night tortured by visions of Isolde than waste one more second replaying that encounter with Evanthe just now.

And there it was—the undeniable pull dragging me under despite every attempt to resist: Isolde dominated every corner of my mind whether I fought it or not… Maybe there really was no escaping this bond after all.