Lyra Wilder, a female alpha, had just shattered a champagne flute across Victor Holloway’s smug face in front of half the shifter nobility. He deserved it. He had just announced, publicly, that he intended to keep his mistress after their mating, and when she’d dared to question him, he’d sneered that he didn’t want to raise a bastard child. She had come to this engagement party ready to secure her pack’s future.
She was a rare female alpha, dominant and strong, but their world demanded she take a mate within six months or face a succession challenge. With the deadline looming, her council had practically shoved Victor down her throat. He was a wealthy beta, an alliance on paper, but clearly a fool in practice. Storming away from the wreckage of her engagement, she collided with a tall figure, and a glass of expensive red wine bloomed across the gray silk of her dress.
The man, infuriatingly handsome, apologized with a smirk, and the voice of her soon-to-be-former fiancé hissed at her to apologize to his alpha. It was only then that she realized who she had insulted. This was Derek Westwood, the powerful alpha who controlled half the eastern territory. Watching Victor stumble over his apologies, Lyra snapped that the engagement was off.
Derek watched the exchange with amused eyes. When she turned to leave, he followed, offering to help. He told her she needed a new dress and a new mate, and he had the perfect one in mind for both. Leaning in, he declared that she could have him.
In a private dressing room, surrounded by expensive gowns, Derek laid out his proposal. He needed a mate to secure a seat on the National Council, a position he’d been denied three times for his playboy reputation. She needed one for legitimacy. His idea was simple: a temporary mating.
They’d stay bonded for one year, fulfill his council requirements and her pack’s traditions, and then break the bond and divorce. As a show of good faith, he pledged to keep her pack under his protection permanently, even after they parted ways. Believing she had nothing to lose, Lyra agreed. She was wrong.
The wedding was a spectacle. Thousands of guests filled the Westwood gardens. Her brother, Flynn, was wary, reminding her that a mating bond couldn’t be reversed without consequence. She dismissed his concerns.
Derek himself arrived late, his tie askew and his scent holding an odd, metallic tang. She tried to ignore it, just as she tried to ignore the gloves he wore even during the ceremony. The claiming was more intense than she’d imagined. When he sank his teeth into her neck, the bond ignited with molten heat.
She felt a surge of his emotions—a strange mix of restraint, desire, and profound loneliness. She returned the bite, and the bond exploded wide open. Afterwards, he wished her a good night and abruptly left, leaving her breathless and confused. That night, she woke to find herself wrapped in his arms.
When she demanded to know why he was in her bed, he had no memory of coming there. Then she saw it: a deep, raw gash on his hand that hadn’t healed. She asked if he’d hurt himself. He muttered, “It didn’t work,” and a surge of pure terror pulsed through their bond before he slammed his mental walls shut.
He jumped out of bed and ran down the hall, slamming doors in frustration as if he were trying to reach a destination that kept moving. When he finally opened a door and looked relieved, he stepped through, closing it behind him. By the time she yanked it open, he was gone, leaving her alone to wonder what had just happened. Derek was not gone far.
He was at a bookshop, speaking to a magician named Adrien and his assistant, Iris. Desperate, he explained his situation. A family curse meant that if he didn’t find a mate, one who truly loved him, before his 30th birthday, he would lose his wolf entirely and become human. His power was already fading.
He’d assumed a mating bond, signed in contract, would be enough to break it. Adrien dropped his head into his hands. The curse wasn’t about contracts. It was about emotion.
A mating born of convenience wouldn’t satisfy the condition, which demanded sincerity. The more Derek protested that Lyra wasn’t a stranger but a business partner, the more obvious it became to everyone but him that he was in trouble. Lyra, meanwhile, was determined to get answers. She confronted Derek, who was suddenly trying to win her over with gifts and affection, confusing her further.
Demanding honesty, he finally broke. His hand was still injured, a sign he was slowly becoming human. The curse, he admitted, required true love. Their contractual bond wasn’t enough.
He needed her to fall in love with him, for real. And he begged her to give him a chance. One date, she agreed. He told her he was turning human.
The reason, he explained, was a curse from an offended witch in his family’s past. He had been desperate to find a mate before turning thirty, and hadn’t realized love was a requirement. She wanted to be furious at his manipulation, but through the bond, she felt his genuine guilt and fear. That evening, he was vulnerable, and she cared for him while he was sick, feeling a connection she hadn’t expected.
But the next morning, she told him they should break the bond. He deserved to find someone who could love him for real. He couldn’t do that while legally tethered to her for a business deal. Hurt but resigned, Derek agreed, hiding his feelings behind a wall.
Weeks passed. Lyra tried to focus on her pack. When Derek sent his beta, Victor, to a border meeting, she was disappointed. Victor, seeing an opportunity, cruelly implied Derek had already replaced her with someone else, claiming he was “seeing someone seriously.
” When she called Derek to confront him, he confirmed it, saying he was spending time with someone who could potentially break the curse. The confirmation felt physical, but she simply agreed that breaking their bond might be a good idea and hung up. On the night of his 30th birthday, Derek hosted a lavish party. He knew his time was up.
His attempts to feel a connection with Isabelle, the woman he’d been seeing, had failed. She was beautiful and ambitious, but she saw a merger, not a mate. When she pushed him, he stumbled, injuring his wrist in a way that wouldn’t heal. At one twenty to midnight, unable to face the charade, he walked away from the whole thing—his party, his pack, his life—and drove to a secluded cabin.
Lyra, tipped off by his friend Ryder that Derek had vanished, felt a jolt of alarm. The curse would become permanent at midnight. She raced to find him, shifting into her wolf form and running through the forest, following their bond. She reached the mountain cabin minutes too late.
The clock read seven minutes past midnight. “You’re too late,” Derek said without turning. “It’s done. ”
He was human.
He tried to send her away, insisting they had no future. He couldn’t protect her pack. He was weak, and he wouldn’t drag her down. As he tried to release her, to end their bond, Lyra realized he was trying to protect her.
She didn’t run. Instead, she knelt beside him and kissed him. She told him she chose him, regardless of what he was. When he tried to dismiss her feelings as a trick of the bond, she looked him in the eye and confessed that she loved him.
She loved him—not his power or his wealth, but who he was. His resistance crumbled. “Of course I love you,” he finally admitted, his voice breaking. He said he had to let her go because she deserved better than what he was now.
She kissed him again, and as she did, he gasped. He was looking at his wrist. The swelling was receding, the purple bruising fading into nothing before their eyes. The curse, it seemed, wasn’t about a deadline after all.
It was about a truth that had already been there. Her love, freely given, was the only magic that could break it. “Happy birthday, Derek,” she whispered.
“Best one yet,” he murmured, his arms tightening around her.
