Crowned by Fate Chapter 139

Adrian's POV

The moment Skye fled from my room, the haze of rage clouding my mind began to clear.

I stared down at my hands, the same hands that had just torn her dress, that had gripped her too roughly, that had tried to claim her against her will.

What the fuck had I just done?

I'd never been this aggressive with anyone I cared about, especially not Skye. The look of betrayal in her eyes cut deeper than any physical wound could.

But the image of Leon kissing her, his tongue pushing into her mouth, kept replaying in my mind like a nightmare I couldn't escape.

I wanted to rip that bastard's tongue out by the root. The very thought of him touching what was mine made my wolf howl with territorial fury.

Mine. Protect. Claim.

I pushed my wolf down, disgusted with myself. Skye wasn't property. She wasn't something to be claimed or marked out of jealousy.

But Leon was her true mate.

As long as their mate bond remained intact, I couldn't shake the feeling that he could take her from me at any moment. The pull between mates ran deeper than logic or choice; I knew this better than most.

Had Skye truly resisted his kiss?

I couldn't bear to think too deeply about it. I knew how powerful a mate bond could be, how it could override every other consideration.

***

Falshback

It had been a rainy day four years ago when my life changed forever. The skies had opened up, pelting our territory with sheets of water that seemed to mirror the grief that would soon engulf us.

My father's Beta and several warriors carried his body back to our compound. Their faces were grim, clothes soaked with rain and blood.

In my mind, my father had always been the strongest person in the world: indestructible, powerful, eternal. I had never imagined a day would come when he would fall.

As they laid his body down in our ceremonial hall, I rushed forward. The scent of death clung to him, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the earthy smell of the forest where he had fallen.

His once strong body was now a canvas of deep gashes and savage wounds. His throat had been torn open, the killing blow from whatever enemy had finally bested him.

Looking at his body covered in wounds, I broke down sobbing, my knees giving way beneath me. My claws extended involuntarily, digging into the wooden floor as I howled. But as the Alpha heir of the Stormhowl Pack, I forced myself to regain composure quickly. Our people needed strength, not tears.

According to our ancient werewolf tradition, we kept vigil over the deceased for seven days.

We placed exactly seven white candles in a perfect circle around the coffin, which had to remain lit for the entire period. The elders taught us that the light guided the spirit, preventing the departed from falling into darkness and helping them find their way to paradise instead.

The circle represented eternal protection; our pack bonds transcending even death.

For the first two nights, my mother insisted on watching over my father's body alone.

By the third night, I worried about her exhaustion and decided to take her place, giving her time to rest.

When I approached the mourning hall, strange sounds reached my enhanced hearing.

Low moans, a man and woman's intertwined sighs of pleasure, cut through the silence of the night with disturbing clarity. Along with these obscene noises came that unmistakable scent: sex, sweat, and the musky aroma of arousal.

The scents were so strong they nearly masked the ceremonial incense burning around my father's body.

Who would be so disrespectful as to defile my father's mourning hall this way?

I decided to catch them and banish them from the pack immediately. My wolf rose close to the surface, rage building with each step I took.

As I moved closer, however, I heard a familiar voice that stopped me cold.

"I love you, Lillian. I've always loved you."

Lillian, my mother's name.

I froze as I heard my uncle Maxwell repeating her name over and over, his voice thick with passion.

I could hear their movements against the wooden floor of the adjacent prayer room, the rustling of clothes, the quickening of breath.

"We can be together now," he whispered. "It's our time."

I turned and silently walked away, bile rising in my throat.

That night, I didn't sleep.

I shifted and ran along the beach until dawn, the cold wind and pounding surf failing to wash away what I'd discovered. My paws dug deep into the wet sand, my howls lost in the crash of waves against the shore.

The next day, I gathered my courage and confronted my mother. Her scent still carried traces of my uncle, making my stomach turn.

"Why would you betray Father like this?" I asked, my voice barely controlled.

A flash of panic crossed her eyes before her expression smoothed into practiced calm. She sat down at her vanity, fingers nervously tracing the edge of my father's photograph.

"Your father and I were a political match, Adrian," she explained softly. "I was never his true mate. After I married him, I discovered Maxwell was my actual mate." Her eyes took on a faraway look, her fingers now absently touching her neck where a mate mark would be placed. "But by then, I was already pregnant with you. I had to reject Maxwell and stay with your father."

I didn't know how to process this revelation.

I had intended to defend my father's honor, but I couldn't deny the love I saw in my mother's eyes when she spoke of Maxwell.

The way her voice softened, how her scent changed; it wasn't the behavior of someone driven purely by lust or disrespect.

Was this the power of the mate bond? Strong enough to overcome loyalty, vows, even basic decency?

***

Now, sitting alone in my hotel room , I wondered what Leon truly meant to her.

 If the connection between mates was as powerful as what I'd witnessed between my mother and uncle, how long could Skye really resist it?

My wolf whined, anxious and confused. We had nearly marked her tonight, an act that would have bound her to us forever. But a mark given in anger and possession rather than love would have been unforgivable.

I needed to make this right, but first, I needed to understand what I was truly afraid of.

Was it losing Skye?

Or was it becoming like my father, a man who married a woman whose heart secretly belonged to someone else?

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to block out the memories, but they persisted.

My mother's voice echoed in my mind: "I was never his true mate."

What if, despite everything Skye said about choosing me, the mate bond eventually pulled her back to Leon?

The questions tormented me as the night grew deeper, and Skye's absence from my bed felt like a physical wound that wouldn't heal.