The moment Seraphina climbed into the Ashbourne family's carriage, she collapsed onto the velvet seat.
All the rigid poise of Duke Richard Ashbourne melted away. Gone was the stern patriarch of Ashbourne—now only a father remained, rummaging through his coat pocket with trembling hands until he found a small vial of pheromone suppressant.
"Breathe, Sera. Slowly."
His voice was gentle by her ear, the only thing keeping her from spiraling deeper into panic.
Her trembling hands clutched the vial. In her haste, the pills scattered across her lap and the carriage floor, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Nothing mattered more at that moment than suppressing the heat roaring inside her.
Lucian's mark had taken effect.
From the very second his teeth sank into her flesh, every cell in her body had screamed in recognition, flooded by his pheromones.
But thank the stars she had taken suppressants beforehand. That was the only reason she could resist. The only reason she hadn't surrendered.
Seraphina was Prince Lucian's fated mate.
It was the truth, no matter how fiercely her mind rejected it.
Her body had already accepted it—through the thunderous pulse in her veins, the ache to collapse into his arms, and now, this burning heat rising from within, triggered by his bite.
But Seraphina refused to yield. She would not allow it to take root.
Gradually, the suppressant began to take effect. Her breath evened out, though her body still trembled.
Across from her, Richard let out a long breath of relief, though his eyes still watched her warily.
"Are you certain you're alright now?"
Seraphina sat upright, composed once more despite the weakness still coiled in her limbs.
She gave a firm nod.
"Yes, Father, I'm fine now."
Richard stared at her in silence, thoughts churning behind his eyes. At last, he spoke, unable to keep the worry from his voice.
"So… it's true. You're truly the Crown Prince's mate?"
A father's question, simple yet heavy as a stone cast into still water.
Seraphina couldn't lie. She gave a single nod.
Richard's shoulders slumped with a weary sigh. He had suspected it—but confirmation brought no comfort.
"How is that possible?"
She had no answer. But it wasn't beyond control. Seraphina lifted her gaze, meeting her father's concerned eyes with quiet reassurance.
"Don't worry, Father. I'm not some frail Omega. He marked me, but I resisted. He couldn't take more than that."
Richard knew she spoke the truth—but his father's heart remained restless.
"He's a pureblood Alpha, Sera. And one with a temper."
Seraphina nodded, acknowledging the truth. But her smile was defiant.
"And I'm your daughter. Which means I'm stubborn as hell."
Richard gave a tired smile, full of love and helplessness.
"Just be careful. It might be best if you avoid any event where His Highness is present, at least for now."
Seraphina accepted his suggestion without protest—it was the wisest path, for now. She turned to him with a cautious glint in her eyes.
"Father… you're sure all the records were destroyed?"
His expression faltered for the briefest second before returning to calm.
"Of course. Why do you ask?"
"Just making sure."
Seraphina turned her eyes to the window, watching the trees blur past in the cloak of night.
Danger hid behind their shadows—just like the Crown Prince. She could feel it. He would not let her go that easily.
The road ahead was as obscured as the forest outside. Impossible to know what was lurking. But Seraphina wasn't afraid.
What people called destiny, mate—in Seraphina's eyes, these were just romanticized terms for humanity's primitive desires. Lust, control, and possession.
She wouldn't let herself fall into that spiral. Even if it was destiny, if she didn't want it, no one could force her.
Seraphina would resist to the end, whether against the royal family or a pureblooded Alpha. Even at the cost of her life, she would not back down, would not submit to anyone.
Because she was born this way. Her instinct was inherently like this.
No one had the right to change it.
—
The Full Moon Mating Ball had drawn to a close without further incident.
One by one, the guests departed, some blissfully matched, others dejected, dragging disappointment behind them.
And then there were one who left in quiet torment, consumed by a hunger left unquenched.
Lucian forced a smile, playing the part of a composed prince as he bid farewell to nobles and courtiers. But once he was out of sight, he walked with the gait of a storm bottled in flesh.
He needed to escape from here. The jasmine scent had faded to the point where it was difficult to trace, but it was still enough to upset his composure, making his stomach churn like a wild beast starved for days.
Lucian's footsteps echoed powerfully down the hallway. His agitation spread uncontrollably, making servants and guards alike shrank away, their heads bowed, afraid of what simmered just beneath his skin.
In his twenty-six years, Lucian had experienced bloody battlefields and mind-bending political struggles, but nothing had ever driven him to such madness.
He wanted release; he wanted to destroy something. Even if it was foolish, even if it was beneath him, the feeling clawed at his insides like wildfire.
Perhaps he needed to drain a bottle of brandy to pass out in drunkenness, only then might he peacefully fall asleep.
The guards opened the great oak doors to his chamber. They creaked ominously, mocking him with their sympathy.
Lucian slammed the door shut and strode toward the liquor cabinet.
But then, a soft whimper stopped him in his tracks.
Lucian turned to look at the large bed, where a young woman sat hidden in the shadows, wearing a thin white nightgown that revealed enticing curves.
The scent emanating from her was quite familiar. Jasmine.
Lucian's entire body immediately grew hot. His heat resurfaced. The hungry beast within him, as if finding a succulent piece of meat, rushed toward the bed and grabbed the girl.
His mind flooded with images of the proud young woman trembling beneath him, begging for mercy, making every muscle in his body tense with primitive desire.
He gripped her wrist tightly and pressed it down on the mattress above her head.
"Seraphina…"
Lucian whispered her name through clenched teeth with rapid breath.
"Your Highness…"
Her voice trembled with expectation and fear, her scent intensifying.
He should have been satisfied with her submission. But instead, he felt as if something was missing. Empty.
As if doused with cold water, the flames of desire within him extinguished.
Lucian snapped back to clarity. He released the girl and pulled away, his chest heaving. Now he could smell her clearly.
Jasmine, yes.
But wrong. Omega.
He inhaled deeply, forcing the lust back down. His voice came out hoarse, rough with fury.
"Who let you in?"
The girl sat up, startled. The flickering candlelight revealed a lovely, unfamiliar face.
"I—I was sent by His Majesty. To comfort you… Your Highness."
Her tone quivered with hurt and hope, the kind that begged to be comforted.
Of course. His father. A final insult on the heels of tonight's humiliation.
Perhaps the old Lucian might have indulged in such a distraction. But now?
He looked at the Omega's tearful eyes and felt nothing but revulsion.
Once an Alpha found their true mate, nothing else could satisfy them.
No one else.
Only her.
Only his mate.
His Seraphina.
Damn it.
Lucian clenched his teeth as her face returned to his mind, swathed in that cursed veil of jasmine. The heat rekindled in him—no longer desire, but pure obsession.
He pressed his fingers to his temple, breathing hard. Then he exhaled and gestured at the Omega.
"Leave."
She hesitated, her expression crestfallen with unspoken hope. But when she met the sharp disgust in his gaze, she lowered her head and quietly left the room.
Alone once more, Lucian dropped onto the chaise, reaching for a bottle on the table.
No hesitation, he twisted the cap and drank deep.
The burn down his throat was nothing compared to the inferno in his chest.
A prince. An heir to the throne.
A pureblood Alpha, meant to have anything he desired.
And here he was, craving the one Alpha who rejected every thread of the bond.
How laughable.
He lifted the bottle again, swallowing the mockery down with a fresh mouthful of fire. Then his gaze sharpened.
"Carl."
He called loudly for his personal attendant who was waiting outside.
A man around forty gently pushed the door open, respectfully bowing his head, awaiting orders.
"You called for me, Your Highness?"
Lucian leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. He propped his elbow on the armrest, resting his chin on his palm. His voice was deep and steady, revealing nothing of his inner thoughts.
"Gather everything on the Duke's daughter. I want every shred of information. No detail is too small."
"As you wish, Your Highness."
Carl's seasoned eyes flickered with brief surprise, but he said nothing. He bowed again and departed, leaving silence in his wake.
Lucian's lips curled.
The flickering candlelight carved shadows across his face, painting him less like a prince, and more like a devil preparing to lure his prey into damnation.
Seraphina Ashbourne.
Run, if you wish.
I will hunt you down.
To heaven or hell.
And once I catch you…
I'll burn you alive with this fire.
***