Raikar turned back to the window, his reflection showing the predatory gleam that had entered his blue eyes. His panther was done with politics, done with council interference, done with anything that stood between him and his true mate.
"The gossip suggests they're moving quickly," Veynor continued. "Sera has already been informed and is reportedly... pleased with the arrangement. The formal announcement could come within days."
Days?
Raikar's jaw tightened as he calculated the impossibility of his situation. His real mate would arrive tomorrow, completely unaware of what she meant to him, while the council prepared to lock him into a political alliance with a woman who meant nothing to his panther.
"Just tell the council that your mate is already coming," Veynor suggested, though his tone indicated he understood the complications inherent in that approach.
"That will be problematic," Raikar said slowly. "She doesn't know she's my mate yet. This entire situation requires... delicate handling."
Veynor's expression shifted to something that might've been sympathy on a less disciplined face. "Sir, with respect, this situation is going to implode regardless of how delicately you handle it."
The truth of that statement settled over Raikar like a weight. Tomorrow, his mate would arrive expecting temporary assignments. The council would expect him to accept their chosen mate for him. His panther would demand he claim what belonged to him. And somehow, he would have to navigate all of it without losing the woman fate had chosen for him.
"I need air," he said abruptly, the walls of his office suddenly feeling too confining for the restless energy building in his system.
Soon, the command center doors burst open under Raikar's strong hands, the reinforced metal groaning against the hinges. The humid jungle air that usually welcomed him like a familiar embrace now pressed against him like a lead weight, thick with moisture and the scent of purple blooms that should have calmed him. Instead, everything felt suffocating and wrong.
He understood the council's frustration—ten years of waiting for him to choose a mate while they watched generals from the surrounding territories ascend with suitable mates. Ten years of deflecting their suggestions and their increasingly pointed comments about duty and legacy. But now he faced something far worse than their impatience. Two potential mates, when he'd never wanted even one thrust upon him by politics.
Two mates.
The thought twisted in his gut like a blade. His panther growled with violent disagreement.
Not two. One. Jade. Our fated mate.
The beast's certainty should have been reassuring, but it only added to the pressure building behind his ribs. When the council discovered Jade was human—and they would discover it—they'd push Sera on him with renewed desperation. Humans were considered fragile, politically insignificant, and culturally incompatible with panther leadership. Everything the council feared in a High Commander's mate.
He should call Gerri back. Tell her the situation had changed, that the council had made their choice for him, that bringing Jade here would only complicate an already impossible political landscape.
His panther's rage at the idea nearly brought him to his knees.
No. She comes to us. She is ours.
The possessive certainty in that mental voice left no room for argument, and Raikar found himself nodding to the empty air. Calling off Jade wasn't an option—not when his beast had finally found what it had been searching for.
But how could he explain this mess to anyone? How could he tell the council that his fated mate was arriving tomorrow but didn't know she was his mate? That she thought she was coming here for temporary training and missions? The situation would make him look incompetent at best, desperate at worst. Neither was acceptable for someone positioned to become High Commander.
Then the solution crystallized with the cold clarity he usually reserved for battle strategy.
Lean into Gerri's story. Keep it simple.
He wouldn't mention the mate bond to the council—not yet. He'd simply tell them that a warrior had agreed to train with his forces, that he'd evaluated her skills and found them acceptable for temporary integration. They might question the decision, but it was within his authority as general to recruit talent where hefound it. Far better than trying to explain why his fated mate needed time to adjust to the concept of being claimed fully.
As for the council's matrimonial ambitions—he'd handle that the same way he'd handled every other political pressure they'd put on him: deflect it until they gave up or found a more pressing concern.
The strategy felt solid and workable. He'd faced countless challenges in his military career, navigated complex political situations, and managed territorial disputes that could have sparked wars.
How different could matters of the heart be?
His panther's rumble at that thought suggested they might be very different indeed.
The purple jungle beckoned beyond the command center's perimeter, ancient trees with luminescent bark stretching toward Nova Aurora's twin suns. He needed space to think and needed the primal clarity that only came when he let his other half run free through the familiar territory.
Raikar stripped off his uniform with efficient movements, the fabric falling to the ground as his bones began the familiar shift. The transformation always brought relief—the human world's complications temporarily set aside for the simpler truths of predator and prey, territory and dominance.
His massive black panther form emerged with a ripple of muscle and shadow, his blue eyes gleaming in the filtered sunlight. Within seconds, four powerful legs carried him deeper into the jungle at a pace that should have cleared his mind and should have burned away the tension coiling in his chest.
