Spellbound: Mated To The Tribrid

I woke to the gray light of early morning and the solid weight of an arm across my waist. For a moment I did not remember where I was.

Then the previous night returned in pieces—the bar, the car, the bed, the way his eyes had changed when he looked at me as if he had recognized something he had not expected to find.

I turned carefully. He was already awake, watching me with an expression I could not quite read. In the soft light the gold in his irises was more pronounced.

My wolf stirred again, quieter now but still insistent. Mate. The word sat heavy and strange in the back of my mind. I had never believed in the stories the way purebloods did. I had never expected the recognition to feel like this—like a door opening in a house I had kept locked for years.

He brushed a strand of hair from my face. Neither of us spoke for a long time. The silence was not awkward. It simply was.

“You’re quieter in the morning,” he said at last, voice still rough with sleep. “Last night you weren’t shy about asking for what you wanted.”

A faint heat touched my cheeks. “Last night was different.”

“Different how?”

I hesitated. “I wasn’t thinking about consequences.”

His mouth curved, not quite a smile. “And now you are.”

“Yes.”

He studied me for another moment, then shifted so he was propped on one elbow. “I keep expecting you to bolt. Or to ask who I am.”

“Would you tell me if I did?”

“Probably not.” He paused. “Would you tell me your name if I asked?”

“No.”

He gave a short huff of amusement. “Then we’re even.”

I pulled the sheet a little higher. “You don’t seem bothered by that.”

“I’ve lived long enough to know that names are the least important part of a person.” His gaze drifted over my face. “What you are… that’s harder to hide.”

My pulse jumped. “And what do you think I am?”

“Someone who’s running.” He said it simply, without accusation. “Someone who looked over her shoulder more times in one night than most people do in a year. Someone whose wolf is awake and restless even when she tries to keep it quiet.”

I went still. “You noticed.”

“I notice a lot of things.” His voice softened. “Especially when they involve you.”

Before I could answer, he rose and moved to the low table near the window where a phone lay face down. The moment he looked at the screen his entire posture changed. Whatever message waited for him was not good news. I sat up, pulling the sheet around myself, and watched the shift from the man who had been careful with me to something colder and more focused.

“What is it?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t look up right away. When he did, his expression was carefully neutral. “An urgent matter. One I can’t ignore.”

“How urgent?”

“Someone tried to kill me last night. While I was… otherwise occupied.” A humorless edge entered his voice. “They failed. But the attempt itself is a problem I have to address immediately.”

I swallowed. “You’re leaving.”

“I have to.” He crossed back to the bed and stood looking down at me. “Come with me.”

The words landed harder than I expected. For a single reckless second I almost said yes. Then reality returned.

“I can’t,” I said quietly.

His jaw tightened. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t know who you are. And you don’t know who I am.” I met his eyes. “That’s not a foundation for anything except trouble.”

“I know enough.” His voice was low, intense. “I know my wolf recognized yours the moment I walked into that bar. I know you felt it too. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

“I felt something,” I admitted. “That doesn’t mean I can walk away from my life and follow a stranger into whatever danger is waiting for him.”

“It wouldn’t be as a stranger.” He sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that I could feel the heat of him. “I would protect you. Whatever you’re running from—”

“You can’t protect me from this.” The words came out sharper than I intended. I forced my voice lower. “You don’t understand what you’re offering. Or what it would cost.”

He searched my face. “Then explain it to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Both.” I looked away. “If the people hunting the crescent bloodline are already this close, dragging anyone else into my orbit would only put them in danger. And put me at greater risk of discovery.”

Silence stretched between us. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “You’re part of that bloodline.”

It wasn’t a question. I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

He let out a slow breath. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s better that way.”

“Is it?” He leaned in slightly. “Because it doesn’t feel better. It feels like I’m leaving something unfinished. Something important.”

I forced a small, tired smile. “Nights like this don’t last past sunrise. Not for people like me.”

He gave a short, humorless sound that might have been a laugh. “Probably.” He leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to my forehead, then to the corner of my mouth. “If you ever change your mind… the Black Moon will know how to find me.”

“And if I never do?”

His eyes held mine. “Then I’ll still remember the way you looked at me when you stopped hiding. Even if it was only for one night.”

I did not ask how the bar would know how to reach him. I did not ask who he really was, though the way he carried himself and the urgency of the message suggested he was no ordinary Lycan. I simply watched him gather his clothes and dress with efficient movements. When he was ready he paused at the door.

“Stay as long as you need,” he said. “No one will bother you here. Food’s in the kitchen if you want it. And…” He hesitated. “Be careful, princess. Whatever you’re running from—don’t let it catch you.”

“I’ll try.”

He nodded once, as if committing the sight of me to memory, and then he was gone.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time after the door closed, the silver pendant cool against my skin. Outside, Ashford was waking. Somewhere in the city hunters were still searching. Somewhere the people who had carved the crescent into vampire nobles were planning their next move. And somewhere a Lycan who had looked at me like he had found something he thought lost was returning to a palace and an attempted assassination.

I rose, found my dress, and put myself back together piece by piece. Masked scent. Careful steps. The same rules that had kept me alive this long. When I left the penthouse I did not look back. I told myself I would never see him again. It was safer that way. It was the only way.

But my wolf did not believe me. And for the first time in years, neither did I.