Lycan Prey, chapter one

• Aubrey • The chill of the morning hasn’t quite lifted, despite the sun being high in the sky, I navigate through the crowded sidewalk, my boots click against the concrete as I stare down at my phone. The sharp scent of car exhaust, the warm aroma of street vendor food and coffee fill the air. Any other day it would comfort me.

Today, however, the city’s pulsing life is just background noise to my own racing thoughts. Rhett’s words from last night echo in my head, each one laden with a weight that presses coldly against my chest. “You think it’s so easy to just cut someone out of your life? Bianca and I have a past; we were together for years, Aubrey!”

“As my fiancé, yes! How can you not see she still has feelings for you?”

I yelled back at him. He just laughed, which made me feel even smaller than I had moments before. I still can’t believe Rhett said that to me, clearly forgetting I cut everyone out of my life for him.

I gave up my position as the next Alpha of my father’s pack to be with him, and he couldn’t even give up his ex for his mate. What he had said still stings. “Look, I didn’t ask for this bond any more than you did. Bianca and I built something real over the years. You can’t just step in and expect to replace all that history. You need to get over this jealousy, Aubrey. I’m not going to fire her just because you feel threatened. That’s not fair to her or to me.”

He apologized later, the apology was empty, devoid of warmth. It’s just another reminder that things between us are fracturing, the bond we disintegrating because he refuses to acknowledge that Bianca is the root of all our issues. There is still hope, though, isn’t there?

A part of me clings to that possibility like a lifeline—a thin, fraying thread I’m terrified to let go of. The idea of fixing what has been broken seems like a distant dream, nevertheless I have to try for the sake of our mate bond. It has to work out because I have nothing left to go home to since my father declared me rogue if I chose him.

How can I not? He is my mate; mate bonds are sacred, though mine is like a curse with how much we fight. There has to still be hope; he wouldn’t have asked me to meet him today if there wasn’t.

So, my heart races with both excitement and fear; excited about the opportunity to see my mate, and fear of why he asked me to meet him at work in the first place. Especially after our argument last night when he forbade me from coming here after I had an argument with Bianca, his secretary. As I pause at the intersection, waiting to cross, the hum of the city seems to quiet just a fraction, allowing the past to play out vividly in my mind’s eye.

Rhett’s smile, once so easy and genuine, now seems forced at the best of times. His touch, which had once sparked fires within me, has turned cold lately. I glance down at his message on my phone and can’t help my smile.

Come have lunch with me at work. “Maybe today,”

I whisper to myself, the words barely audible over the sound of honking horns and chattering pedestrians. Perhaps today, we can clear the air and start fresh. Hopefully, today, I can gaze into those piercing blue eyes and see a glimmer of the man I once knew—the Alpha who had declared me his.

Yes, a fresh start would be good. We are due to wed in a couple of weeks, and I’d rather not go into a marriage with all this drama hanging over our heads. A deep breath fills my lungs as I wait for the light to turn green at the pedestrian crossing.

Tucking my phone in my handbag, I double-check I have everything, like the venue contract for the wedding and the seating arrangements, which I need his help with since I don’t know any of these people and no one from my side will be attending. A commotion breaks out behind me. “Stop him!”

The urgency in the shout cuts through my reverie, making me jump. My gaze snaps away from the traffic light, and I twist around, searching for the source of the disruption. A young boy, no more than six, is barreling through the crowd, his small frame a darting shadow against the city’s concrete jungle.

Desperation and defiance are etched into the boy’s features as he runs from the men chasing him. As the child nears the curb, a cold spike of fear pierces me. His feet are not stopping as he heads straight for the bustling street.

The boy being cut off by another man in a suit has him darting left, straight onto the road. “Watch out!”

My voice is lost in the screeching of tires and city sounds. Time seems to decelerate; each second slows, and then it seems to stop altogether. A sleek black sedan makes its turn, tires biting into the asphalt.

Horror constricts my throat as the vehicle veers; the driver’s eyes are locked on everything but the boy who has stepped into the road. “Max!” another cry rings out, tinged with a familiar terror that resonates within me.

It echoes the same primal panic that surges through my veins, having lost my little sister similarly when I was twelve. She was only eleven years old when she was run over by a drunk driver while we were riding our bikes at my grandmother’s place. I don’t think; I react out of pure panic.

My feet are pounding against the concrete like paws thundering through the underbrush on a full moon. “Hey!”

My voice is a commanding bark, slicing through the noise of the city as I shove past pedestrians to get to him. With a lunge born of desperation, I reach the boy, my hands finding the fabric of his shirt in a vice grip. I hurl him back toward the sidewalk.

The momentum, however, betrays me. My world tilts violently as I stumble forward, my body careening into the path of the oncoming vehicle. Tires screech as metal meets flesh.

Searing pain erupts up my side as I’m thrown through the air. I hit the ground hard, the impact stealing the breath from my lungs as I slide across the asphalt. The rough ground tears at my exposed skin as I stop.

The ground bites into my palms as I push myself up, needing to ensure the child’s okay, not knowing if I was quick enough. When my gaze finds him, he is a crumpled figure on his knees on the sidewalk. I stumble over to him while the shouts of men racing toward us resonate through the air, and someone’s aura ripples out violently.

“Are you okay?”

I panic, hoping he hasn’t hit his head on the gutter, just as the car tears off down the road, not bothering to stop to see if I’m okay. I grip his face, checking him over, before realizing we have gathered a crowd. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

His little voice cracks with the weight of the chaos he has unwittingly unleashed. Tears carve clean paths down his dirt-smudged face, his innocence bare in the sun’s harsh light. “Shh, it’s okay,”

I rasp out, my throat tight having had the air smashed from my lungs and my skin still burning violently. He has a scraped knee, other than that, he looks to be okay. “Are you hurt?”

I manage to ask, though my body screams in protest. The pain is sharp, consuming almost, my wolf will heal me in no time, though. This little man, however, is too young to have a wolf yet.

His small head shakes, sending droplets of tears flying. I let out a breath of relief and stand when I hear the crowd’s murmurs. A shout rings out loudly and the crowd of people parts, making way for someone.

I haven’t even regained my footing when he appears, shoving people out of the way; he is chaos personified in a tailored suit. “Max!” he stammers, closing the distance in heartbeats, sweeping the child into his arms.

My eyes take in the man before me; he is huge beside my five foot three frame. He’s tall and muscular, towering over me as his dark hair and five o’clock shadow give him a rugged yet handsome appearance. His tailored suit only adds to his commanding presence.

Even having a mate, I must admit the man is gorgeous and would be any lady’s wet dream. Though his aura is another thing entirely. Everyone scatters to get away from him as it ripples out violently.

My knees shake slightly as I fight not to submit to him and fall at his feet. My gaze moves to Max; he resembles his father—a smaller, younger version, with the same piercing blue eyes. His small head is crowned with dark, messy hair, and his cheeks glisten with tears.

The child’s tiny frame shakes in his father’s arms, his small hands gripping onto the fabric of his shirt. My own body trembles at the intensity of the man’s aura, a strong force emanating from him in waves, and a growl rips out of him when people edge closer. The sound is a deep menacing thrumming, warning those close to back away.

It has goosebumps lacing my skin instantly, and my neck prickles with the urge to submit to him, which speaks volumes; I may be rogue right now, however I do have Alpha blood. I stare at him, stunned, wondering where this Alpha came from. I’m certain his aura is potent, dangerous, and exceeds that of Rhett’s.

It also makes me wonder who he is. Men clad in tailored suits suddenly surround us; he is clearly someone of importance to warrant this much security. Hearing me whimper under the weight of it, he drops his aura, and I suck in a shaky breath, as his dazzling eyes that match his son’s flick to me.

The man’s gaze locks on me, and the intensity of his presence washes over me. The surrounding air thickens with tension, yet his smile comes slow, warm, and reassuring. “It’s alright, sorry I didn’t mean to,” he says; his voice deep and rich, a perfect counterpoint to the fearsome aura that had just moments before left me trembling.

He steps closer so his aura doesn’t affect me as much as those around us, like I’m suddenly shielded by it. It’s a weird sensation as it ripples over me, and the overwhelming urge to submit to him fades. He must be a powerful Alpha to be capable of controlling his aura like this.

Perhaps an Alpha of Alphas? A hint of cologne, strong and manly, lingers in the air around the man as his aura radiates dominance and danger. I catch the scent of sweat and adrenaline from the crowd as they scatter away from him.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, his large hands still clutching his son tightly.

I nod, trying to catch my breath. He pulls back, taking in his son’s face. “Max! Oh, Max, you scared me to death,” his voice deep, each word laced with an intoxicating blend of fear and overwhelming relief.

His arms, strong and sure, crush the trembling boy against his chest, holding on to him like he’s afraid the boy will vanish if he doesn’t. My knees wobble beneath me, protesting the sudden shift from adrenaline-fueled action to stillness. “He’s okay, just a scraped knee,”

I manage, my voice sounding foreign to my ears—roughened by strain. I attempt a smile, only it falters, morphing instead into a grimace as pain radiates through my bruised body. Shakily, I straighten my jacket, attempting to compose myself, though the fabric now bears the asphalt’s unforgiving kiss.

My racing heart refuses to settle as it thumps erratically. “Thank you!” the man says, and I nod.

I don’t need his thanks; the intensity in his gaze, the way he holds his son like a lifeline, it tells me everything. The man’s eyes, a stormy blue that mirrors the sea, hold mine with an intensity that threatens to unravel the last threads of my control. “You saved him. Thank you, truly,” he repeats earnestly, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the chaos.

“I can’t thank you enough. Are you alright?”

The concern etched in his features is a balm to the sting of asphalt against my skin. “I’ll be fine,”

I assure him, even as pain lances through my leg, sharp and unwelcome. I wince a mere flicker of discomfort but quickly mask it with a tight-lipped smile. “Just a few scrapes.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, his hand reaching toward my face. A shudder runs through me when he grabs my chin, his thumb brushing over my jaw gently. “Please, let someone look at that,” he presses, and I wince, feeling the gravel burn where his thumb touches.

Despite the pain, warmth floods my cheeks. Rhett is never gentle like this. Instinctively, I lean into his scent, which is just as enticing as his touch.

“Boss,” someone says behind him, and he clears his throat, stepping back.

The man before me exudes a more powerful presence than any alpha I’ve ever encountered. Despite his apparent concern for his son, he radiates an aura of authority. His guard motions toward the paramedics, and he sighs, a sound carrying a weight of responsibility I can’t comprehend.

“Really, it’s nothing,”

I lie, my voice steadier than I feel. I need to go meet my mate, and I’m already late. Rhett hates having to wait for anyone.

“Thank you,” he repeats.

The gentle expression carves itself into the space between us. I brush away the discomfort nagging at my limbs, trying to mask the pain as he reaches out a steadying hand. I pick up my discarded handbag.

His touch is light but firm as he grips my arm, waiting for me to steady myself as I sway slightly. “Soren,” he says, his name rolling off his tongue with a slight accent I can’t place.

Why does that name sound familiar, like I’ve heard it before? The men who had been in pursuit now stand back, making me glance around nervously. The crowd is now gone, and only men in suits stand in a circle around us.

My skin prickles with unease, wondering who this man is, that he has this many security guards following him, and to think one small child escaped the lot of them; I try not to snicker at the thought. Soren turns to tell the paramedics they aren’t needed before returning to me. Soren’s gaze holds mine with an intensity that makes me pause.

“Let me take you to get checked out,” he insists gently.

I’m about to decline again when he adds, “Or, at the very least, let me buy you a coffee; there’s a café just around the corner.”

I’m torn. On one hand, I don’t want to impose on him or make him feel obligated to help me. And on the other hand, I’m curious about who he is, and I can’t deny a cup of coffee sounds good right now.

I hesitate, keenly aware of the time slipping away. I’m supposed to meet Rhett for lunch and don’t want to be late. “I really should be going. I’m meeting a friend,”

I say, the lie feeling awkward as it tumbles out. This man doesn’t need to know about my complicated mate bond, and no one wants to admit they are the unwanted mate of an Alpha; how embarrassing. He’d probably think there is something wrong with me.

“Please,”

Soren urges, his voice filled with genuine concern. “It’s the least I can do.”

Despite knowing I should decline, I find myself agreeing. His concern is rare in a pack where I often feel unwanted. As we make our way through the crowd, Soren places his hand gently on the small of my back, guiding me.

He smiles, pushes the door open, and sets Max down. He rushes off toward a nearby booth. I follow the boy only to see his security remain outside.

Once again, I try to recall where I’ve heard the name Soren before, my heart fluttering with a mix of curiosity and unease.