Chapter 8: Bound by Hatred

Ronan's POV

The cheers and jubilations echoed through the village. Who are they cheering for? I wondered, pacing my room.

"Tsk, who cares!" I signaled for a guard and questioned him.

"Hey, what's with the noises and cheers?"

"Your Majesty, the princess is back!" he replied, fear etched on his face.

"Princess?" I repeated, a confused look spreading across my features.

"Princess Lyra! Alph… Thorn's daughter, Your Majesty!" he stammered.

"Alright…" I drawled, a smirk playing on my lips. "Now, flee from my presence!"

I turned and headed for the throne room, taking my rightful place on the throne. The room was dark, illuminated only by the glow of my eyes. I waited.

After a few minutes the door opened to a slight creak followed by a cheerful gleeful voice.

"Your daughter's homeeee," her voice, sweet and charming, echoed through the room.

I anticipated the moment, eager to see the pathetic look on her face when she sees her father's head.

There it was again—that strange sensation, the prickling and tingling down my spine. I'd experienced this feeling before.

I noticed her confusion as she struggled to identify the stranger on her father's throne.

"Ahhhhhhh," I gasped in ecstasy, anticipating, envisaging the look on her face. A thrill shot through me, making my heart leap with excitement.

She quickly called for the guards to light up the room. Within seconds, the room was shimmering and gleaming once more, displaying its opulence.

"Hey! Who the hell are you?" she barked. I finally got a good look at her face: cherry pink lips, a slightly pointed nose, long, wavy brown hair, and grey eyes. She wasn't bad looking.

I remained still, ignoring her questions and pointless interrogations, maintaining my powerful, devilish pose. I was enjoying every moment of seeing her in distress and misery.

"Get off my Father's Throne! Guards, imprison him now!" she yelled, her face contorted with fury.

I remained motionless, as did the guards. I was savoring every moment, drawing out the drama. Finally, I decided to have some more fun.

"Welcome back home, my loyal maiden!" I greeted, my body still rooted to the throne.

"I see you're searching for your daddy, eh? Well, you're in luck. He's halfway in here with us. Come on, look around… don't be shy!" I continued, a sadistic smile twisting my lips.

She snapped back, demanding I get off the throne.

"The throne should be the least of your worries, buddy!" I retorted. "Aren't you supposed to be looking for your pops?"

She seemed to snap out of her rage and began to look around.

"Yesss! Look for him!" I whispered to myself, barely contained excitement crawling through my veins. "His head is right here."

The anticipation made my heart quicken, a flutter of dark excitement in my chest.

Her eyes finally landed on it—her father's severed head. Her face twisted in a familiar expression, one I knew all too well, the same look I had worn when her father destroyed my pack and took my mother's life.

Finally, karma was on my side. Let's see what your anger can accomplish, little nightshade, I thought.

After a moment of internal struggle, she rose, and I maintained my villainous pose. She lunged at me, transforming into her werewolf form. My eyes widened, not at her movement or transformation, but at the intensifying sensation—the same annoying prickling.

"She can't be… no… it's wrong," I muttered.

Dodging her clumsy attacks was child's play. I vanished, reappearing behind her, gripping her arm, and twisting it behind her back.

"You're too reckless," I goaded as she struggled and finally broke free, repositioning herself.

"And you're dead!" she snarled.

I saw the realization dawn on her face. She felt it too. We were fated. But I wouldn't accept her. I'd enslave her.

After a flurry of ineffective slashes, I grew bored and slammed her down onto the ground. The force of the impact reverted her back to human form.

The tingling had reached its peak. I knew she knew. We were fated.

It was no use fighting it

My inner wolf howled, "Mate! Mate! Mark her! Mark her!" I wasn't interested in the slightest. I returned to my throne, watching her cry and wail in a mixture of frustration, grief, and the bitter realization that her father's murderer was her mate.

She eventually passed out from exhaustion.

"Guards!" I ordered, my voice laced with malice and authority. "Take her and lock her in the dungeon, chained."

"And no one should dare to visit her!" I commanded as I left the room, radiating power and a chilling aura.

LYRA'S POV

I woke to a dry throat, my body bruised and battered, the ache lingering deep within me—mentally, emotionally, and physically.

I tried to move, but the clink of chains told me I was bound. I was in the dungeon. Dimly lit, bugs skittered across the cold, damp stone. It was vicious, a place a princess should never be.

"Dad, I'll avenge you," I whispered, sobbing as the horrific image of his severed head flashed before my eyes.

"Fated to that bastard?!" I raged silently. "No! No no no this isn't real,it can't be. There has to be another way. I won't be his Luna, never!"

Suddenly The heavy dungeon door creaked open. The mate bond intensified again,my inner wolf was delighted

"You! How dare you keep me in here?!" I snarled. "Haven't you done enough already, you imposter!"

My limbs strained against the shackles, the chains preventing me from lunging, from clawing that smug, infuriating smile off his face.

He seemed completely unaffected by my outburst. He entered the cell, crossing his arms, and remained silent.

I strained against the chains, testing my strength, my unresolved anger fueling the futile struggle. My breathing was ragged, exhaustion and exasperation weighing me down.

Ignoring my struggles, he spoke softly, his voice cold and dismissive. "You have two options."

He paused, his gaze unwavering. "Swear your loyalty to me, or rot in this cell."

"Hah!" I hissed, growling and snarling. "What makes you think I'd ever swear loyalty to you? I'll never be your Luna. I'll never bow to you!"

"Good thing this prison is princess-sized," he retorted, a cruel glint in his eyes. "I'll enjoy this. You shall starve."

I watched him turn and head for the door. The distance between us was agonizing. My inner wolf howled in protest. The cursed mate bond wasn't taking it. It demanded his presence. I gritted my teeth in annoyance. Every step he took away seemed to amplify the pain, the mate bond flaring with each inch.

"You feel it too, uh? Good," he said, glancing back, his eyes cold as the arctic. "I guess this bond is stronger than your hate."

"You're wrong!" I replied bluntly.

Days passed, each one a torment. Hunger gnawed at me, I grew more weary, feeble, drained. The bond rebelled, feeling dead and defunct without him. I was experiencing hell firsthand.

Night fell. I was near collapse when a large shadow loomed over my fallen body. The mate bond reawakened as Ronan knelt beside me. Was he feeling the pain too? Did he care for me? My mind was flooded with useless thoughts. I was going crazy.

A jolt of electricity shot through me as his skin brushed against mine. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt whole. It wasn't right. It wasn't right.

"What do you want now?" I asked, my voice barely audible with exhaustion. "Get away from me!"

I heard a gentle thump on the ground—a plate. It was a meal. He'd brought me food. Then, a loud clink—the chains. He'd released me. But why? Surprise was evident all over my face.

He broke the silence with a simple statement, one that made my blood boil, my wolf smile, and my loyalty tested to its very core.

"Be my Luna."