“We are made for each other and that means you will be a perfect Alpha-Mate. That I know. But,” Seath started toward his front door, “you are right, we need to talk.”
Without letting go of Lycan, he found the food that was left to them, and maneuvered it to the low table in front of the couch in his living room.
Lycan was in his lap, a place he found he preferred for his mate, and as Seath fed him they picked through the protein-rich fare.
“I want you to know that I will always take your concerns seriously, Lycan. Always. But, I need you to see this from my perspective.” Lycan nodded, his distress almost gone by being next to Seath. It was the best calming drug in the world, the scent of Seath.
“When I was younger, I took an oath to be betrothed to my fated mate. Do you know the ceremony?”
Lycan did know it. But those were easily identified, thorny memories and he didn’t want to think about them right now or explain where they lived in his brain, so he just nodded, but gestured to his head and the still locked pieces of himself that he couldn’t access.
“I can’t think too hard on it.”
Seath kissed Lycan’s forehead in response. “Ah. I understand. It’s not something every pack, every country even recognizes. Some would have you believe fated mates are a story, a legend. But, I always believed. So, when I was of age, I completed the ceremony that would bind me to my fated mate. I’m not saying I didn’t date others, but everyone knew it wouldn’t be serious. Once you do the ceremony, it becomes part of your scent, part of who you are, waiting for your mate to arrive. My parents were fated, and although they aren’t with me now, I can remember what it was like to grow up in a house so full of love.”
“Your father was the Pack Alpha?” Lycan asked, wiggling to get comfortable.
“No, love. My father was a simple farmer. My omega dad was a school teacher. We don’t choose Pack Alphas by something as inconsequential as blood or genetics.”
“Oh, I guess that’s for humans and monarchs.” Lycan mused, and Seath tucked back the assumption Lycan made about succession as something to tell Caine. He would see what the vamp thought of it, since he now fancied himself a detective of Lycan’s origins. And, to be fair, the reliance on magic and who was best-suited over other ways such things were done was a unique feature of most shifter governments.
“Or democracies, even,” Seath agreed. “I’ve seen a few that cared about legacy beyond good sense. But, for us, this pack and most shifters, we never assume that parentage means much in leadership. The magic picks the leader based on what is needed for the good of the pack. Old rituals are called upon. Many could be the Pack Alpha. There is a ceremony on what we call the Raising Day, where the next Alpha is chosen. Partly by the people, but guided by the magic.”
“Even so,” Seath continued. “I always believed in those old ways, the old magic. And that magic chose you and me for each other, sweetheart. The Fates have had their say. You will make me the Alpha this pack needs, Lycan. The man I need to be. And in turn, I will help you be the Alpha-Mate this pack needs. The man you need to be.”
Lycan stared at his hands for a long time. It was different from what he had been told about Alphas and omegas and their roles. He liked this version much better than the one that prioritized him for things beyond his control. For example, he could remember for some reason that he had been led to believe that omegas should be able to sing well. He could not, but it was one of those qualities people valued in omegas. Like beauty or gentleness. And knowing that somehow wasn’t a thorny memory.
“I want that. I want you,” Lycan whispered. “I want—” Lycan tapped his chest, a movement Seath knew meant his wolf was close. “I want to be that for you. I just don’t know how.”
Seath nuzzled Lycan at the beautiful mating mark on his neck. “You have me. And I want you to be that for yourself.”
“But . . .you are betrothed. Jason told me. Everyone knows it’s not me. It’s to a human omega. A prince.”
Seath felt even more like finding the panther shifter and giving him a piece of his mind.
“The ceremony I spoke of was guided by magic to who my fated mate would be. My fate was read and I agreed to a sort of contract with my mate without knowing who that was. The betrothal to Fate is magical. Then, years later, an astrologer told me who the astrologer saw as my fated. The agreement with the person they named was more political in nature, not magical. Do you know Prince Donovan of Taured?”
Lycan searched his mind, but any trace of this prince was on the other side of strong steel walls and the sharpest of the mental barbed wire magic had given him. A sharpness rose when he even tried to think around it, threatening to ruin such a wonderful few days, so he left it alone, as he had been instructed by Luke and the coven.
He gave an exasperated huff, and again gestured to his head. “I can’t get to it.”
It was strange, the way that topic felt in his mind, different from the other sharp memories. But he was safe and in Seath’s arms and that was a worry for another day.
“Well, he was to be my fated, according to the astrologer. But don’t you worry. The binding was an agreement between myself and him. And Donovan has barely been responsive of late. He might want to end the bond, call the astrologer mistaken. There are lots of questions, but I will straighten it all out. The important thing to know is that everything in me,” Seath felt the push of the threshold, almost a kindly slap upside the head, “and outside of me,” he clarified, “says unequivocally that you are my fated mate, baby. Just you.”
Lycan sighed into Seath. It would be easy to question things. To question this feeling, but he just couldn’t when he was nestled close to Seath like this. It was too right, too close to the core. Lycan knew what it felt like to have false senses, things kept from his knowledge, and this was the opposite of that in every way.
“But . . .” Lycan took a deep breath. “I don’t think I have ever even met my wolf, Seath. I meant what I said about that.”
Seath could feel Lycan’s wolf, talk to him.
“Can you feel him?”
“Yes. He’s talked to me. He told me this was home and that you are my mate.”
“Smart wolf.” Seath kissed the mark he had been nuzzling.
“He’s closer to the surface when you are around.”
