Don't follow me

With Aelric and Bronn locked in their never-ending cat-and-mouse game, Theron continued toward the cafeteria alone.

He should have been thinking about food. He should have been wondering what was on the menu today or mentally calculating how many nutritional deficiencies he had accumulated over the past few weeks of isolation. Instead, his thoughts betrayed him.

Because they weren't on food.

They were on Kael.

The very name sent an involuntary shiver down his spine, a warmth curling deep in his stomach—something both thrilling and terrifying.

The moment he stepped into the cafeteria, it was as if his body knew.

The bond hummed to life inside him, a visceral, undeniable pull—an awareness that was both foreign and overwhelming. Every inch of him screamed that his mate was close. Probably here. Just within reach.

His breath hitched, fingers twitching at his sides as his body urged him to move.

To seek.

To find.

It took everything in him to stay rooted to the ground instead of running straight toward Kael like some lovesick fool.

Theron clenched his jaw, forcing his feet forward at a normal pace, even as his pulse pounded in his ears. He hadn't even laid eyes on Kael yet, but his body was already reacting—his skin felt too warm, his heartbeat erratic, and—gods help him—his face was on fire.

He could only hope no one noticed the unmistakable flush creeping up his neck.

Get a grip, Theron.

But how could he? How could he, when every fiber of his being ached for Kael?

It was unnatural. It was terrifying. Theron had spent his entire life as the one in control—of his thoughts, his emotions, his everything. But now? His mind was a storm, an endless loop of Kael, Kael, Kael. His smile. His laugh. The way he ruffled Theron's hair just to annoy him.

He swallowed, gripping his satchel tightly as he entered the cafeteria, scanning the crowd with painful reluctance.

Theron stepped into the cafeteria, still fighting to suppress the bond's pull when his gaze landed on Kael.

And froze.

The lycan prince was surrounded—swarmed—by a flock of females, each one vying for his attention. They leaned in too close, their eyes filled with anticipation, hands reaching out as if desperate to claim him.

Theron's heart slammed against his ribs.

There, in the center of the room, Kael was trapped.

Surrounded by a horde of women, his golden eyes wide, darting frantically for an escape that clearly didn't exist. The prince of werewolves—the ever-confident, cocky, playful Kael—looked absolutely panicked.

The girls, on the other hand, were relentless.

They clung to his arms, leaned too close, spoke in hushed, hopeful voices, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Trying to confirm.

To see if they were the one.

Theron didn't need to guess why.

Kael had just returned from his Rite of Awakening.

And now, every woman who had ever been in his bed—every fleeting fling, every past escapade—was desperate to be the lycan prince's true mate.

A sharp, unpleasant sensation coiled in Theron's chest.

It was irrational, illogical—he knew Kael wasn't entertaining them. He could see the wolf struggling to escape, shifting uncomfortably, trying to push

He knew these women.

Kael's escapades. His one-night stands.

Before, it had never bothered him. Why would it? Kael was just being Kael—free-spirited, reckless, indulgent. Theron had even teased him about it, rolling his eyes every time Kael bragged about some conquest.

But now?

Now it burned.

An ugly, searing heat coiled in his gut, twisting. It was irrational, illogical—but none of that mattered because the sight of these women touching Kael, flirting with him as if they had any right—

Mine.

The thought came unbidden, dark and absolute.

His pulse roared in his ears. His fingers curled into fists. His body moved before his mind caught up, the mate bond seething within him, demanding action.

The chattering around Kael halted when Theron strode forward, his aura shifting.

Subtle at first.

Then suffocating.

The moment his presence hit them, the women flinched. The gnome wasn't physically imposing, but that didn't matter.

Because something in the air changed.

The overwhelming weight of an alpha's claim—of dominance.

Not Kael's.

His.

Theron's voice was calm, controlled, yet it cut through the air like steel.

"Are you all done embarrassing yourselves?"

Silence.

The women exchanged glances, some of them visibly trembling, as if their instincts screamed at them to submit—to run.

Theron lifted his chin, his eyes dark with quiet authority. "You really think you're his mates?" He let out a low, humorless laugh. "Let me save you the trouble—you're not."

A ripple of uncertainty coursed through the group, tension hanging thick in the air. One among them, braver than the rest—Indigo, or at least that was what Theron thought her name was—parted her lips, ready to protest. But before a single word could escape, Theron stepped forward, his presence slicing through the moment like a blade.

And smiled.

It wasn't kind.

The woman paled.

"Get lost." The single word was laced with finality, a command that brooked no argument.

And just like that—

They scattered.

Theron didn't watch them go.

His attention was locked onto Kael.

The lycan prince was still seated, frozen.

Breathing shaky.

Golden eyes blown wide, fixed on him with an intensity that sent a shiver down Theron's spine.

And then—

Kael grinned.

Not his usual, smug smirk.

This was different.

Something fascinated, hungry—hot

"Damn," he muttered, voice low. "That was kinda…" His lips quirked up. "Hot."

Theron's entire brain short-circuited.

His face burned, definitely in anger.

"Shut up," he snapped.

Theron's pulse was still racing. He could feel Kael's eyes on him, burning, amused, pleased.

He hated it.

He hated him.

No.

That wasn't true.

He hated this. The mate bond. The way it made him feel things he didn't want to feel. The way it made him care too much, want too much.

He turned on his heel, intent on leaving, but Kael was faster.

The lycan prince grabbed his wrist, stopping him in place.

"Hey—wait." Kael's grip was firm but gentle.

Theron exhaled sharply. "What, Kael?"

"I just—" Kael hesitated, his usual bravado cracking. "Are you mad at me?"

Theron yanked his wrist free. "No."

"Liar."

Theron scowled. "I don't have time for this."

"You are mad." Kael ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "And I don't get why."

Theron gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "You don't?"

"No!" Kael spread his arms. "What did I do?"

That was the problem.

Kael hadn't done anything.

Not since last night.

But before that?

Theron's stomach twisted. He could still see them—the women who had clung to Kael, the ghosts of his past, of his countless casual flings.

It had never bothered him before.

But now?

Now, the thought of Kael with anyone else made his chest ache, his jaw clench, his stupid mate instincts rage.

Theron hated it. Hated that he cared.

Hated that Kael didn't seem to understand why it hurt.

"It doesn't matter," Theron muttered, brushing past him.

But Kael wasn't letting this go.

He grabbed Theron's satchel, halting him. "No. If you're mad, tell me why."

Theron inhaled sharply. "Let. Go."

"Not until you talk to me."

The bond pulled, an electric tension crackling between them, and Theron knew—knew—Kael felt it too.

But he wouldn't let himself fall for it.

Not when Kael had spent his whole life chasing after meaningless flings.

Not when Theron had to live with the knowledge that, if fate hadn't forced this bond on them, Kael would still be out there—flirting, touching, kissing someone else.

The thought was unbearable.

So Theron yanked his bag free, eyes flashing. "Why do you care?"

Kael flinched.

And for the first time, he looked—hurt.

"Because it's you," he said, voice low. "Because you won't look at me, and it's driving me crazy."

Theron's heart stuttered.

"I don't want this," he admitted before he could stop himself. His voice was quieter now, raw. "I don't want to feel this way."

Kael took a step closer. "But you do."

Theron clenched his fists. "It's not fair."

"I know." Kael swallowed. "I'm sorry."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Kael reached out, hesitated, then rested a hand on Theron's shoulder—gentle, careful.

"I'm not that guy anymore," he murmured. "You know that, right?"

Theron looked away.

"I do," he admitted.

But knowing didn't make it hurt any less.

Theron exhaled sharply, his throat tight. He needed to get out of here.

"Don't follow me," he muttered, turning on his heel.

Kael reached for him instinctively, fingers twitching, but he didn't dare touch him.

Not when Theron's entire body screamed stay away.

Kael's chest clenched painfully as he watched Theron walk away. He wanted to call out, to say something, but the words got caught in his throat.

So he just stood there. Frozen.

Helpless.

His mate was leaving.

And he couldn't do anything about it.

Lirien, who had been watching the exchange from a distance, expression a mix of confusion and concern.

"What the hell just happened?" She asked, glancing between Kael and Theron's retreating figure.