My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over Twenty-Three Pups

The stranger's hands steadied me with a gentleness that felt foreign after weeks of Greyson's calculated cruelty. His touch lingered on my arms—not possessive, not demanding, just... present. Anchoring me when I felt like I might shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Forgive me," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in my chest. "I didn't mean to startle you."

I should have stepped back. Should have put proper distance between myself and this powerful stranger whose scent was doing impossible things to my senses. But Aurora was practically purring in my mind, and I found I couldn't move.

"It's fine," I managed. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

His dark eyes studied my face with an intensity that should have been uncomfortable but somehow wasn't. There was something ancient in that gaze, something that saw past the careful mask I'd worn for weeks.

"You carry sadness," he said quietly. Not a question. An observation.

The directness of it caught me off guard. In werewolf society, you didn't acknowledge such things at diplomatic functions. You smiled and played your role and pretended everything was perfect.

"I'm fine," I said automatically.

One corner of his mouth lifted. "Forgive me again, My Lady, but I don't believe you."

My Lady. Not Luna. Not Kennedy. A title that acknowledged me as a person, not a position.

Something in my chest cracked.

"I don't know you," I whispered.

"No." He released my arms slowly, as if giving me time to object. "But I recognize strength when I see it. And resilience." His head tilted slightly. "You've been leading while others took credit, haven't you?"

The accuracy of it stole my breath. How could he possibly—

"I've seen it before," he continued. "Those who do the real work rarely wear the crown."

"And you are?" I asked, needing to shift the focus away from the uncomfortable truth he'd spoken.

"Theo Bennett." He inclined his head in a gesture that was almost a bow. "Prince of the Northern Lycan Kingdom."

A Lycan Prince. That explained the power radiating from him, the ancient quality of his presence. Lycans were werewolf royalty, their bloodlines predating the pack system by millennia.

I should have curtsied or shown proper deference, but he was already reaching for something on the nearby serving table. He returned with a crystal flute of champagne, offering it to me with both hands like a gift.

"You look like you could use this," he said.

Our fingers brushed as I took the glass. That same electric spark jumped between us, stronger this time. Aurora howled in my mind, a sound of longing and recognition that terrified me.

*What is this?*

"Thank you," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

"Kennedy!" Greyson's voice cut through the moment like a blade.

I turned to see him striding onto the balcony, Paris conspicuously absent. His expression was thunderous, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air.

As he scented Theo.

As he scented Theo's scent mingling with mine.

"The signing is about to begin," Greyson said, his voice tight. "I need you inside. Now."

He crossed the space between us in three long strides and grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise. I felt Theo go utterly still beside me, the air around him crackling with barely contained power.

"Alpha Foster," Theo said, and there was something dangerous in his polite tone. "I don't believe the lady requires such... forceful guidance."

A low growl rumbled from Theo's chest—not loud, but vibrating with an authority that made Greyson's hand spasm on my arm. For a heartbeat, I saw actual fear flash across my mate's face.

My soon-to-be-former mate.

"This doesn't concern you, Lycan," Greyson snarled, but his voice lacked its usual command.

"Kennedy?" Theo's dark eyes found mine. "Do you wish to go with him?"

The question hung in the air. A choice. When was the last time anyone had given me a choice?

But a diplomatic incident between an Alpha and a Lycan Prince could destabilize the entire regional alliance. Could hurt the pack members who depended on the trade agreements I'd worked so hard to build.

Always the pack. Never myself.

"It's fine," I said softly, hating the words even as I spoke them. "The treaty signing is important."

Theo's jaw tightened, but he stepped back, giving me space. His eyes never left Greyson's hand on my arm.

"Until we meet again, My Lady," he said.

Greyson yanked me toward the ballroom doors. I caught one last glimpse of Theo standing in the moonlight, his expression unreadable but his hands clenched at his sides.

Then the glass doors closed between us, and I was being dragged back into my gilded cage.