The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 394: Lifemates

SAGE

Once, I had wondered what it felt like to have a mate.

Not in the abstract way people talked about it—bonded, chosen, destined—but in the visceral sense. To know a mate.

To smell them and have something deep and raw inside you recognize the truth before your mind ever could. To understand the pull that made people reckless, foolish, brave.

I had felt a sliver of it once. As Maya.

That first time with Adam, years ago, in the caves, there had been something there—something tentative and fragile, like the first note of a song that never quite found its chorus.

But time had eroded it. Betrayal had ruptured it. Distance had finished the work. Eventually, even the longing had died.

Or so I had thought.

Now—

I shut my eyes as his voice carried through the door, threading its way into the room as though walls were merely a suggestion.

"Sage?"

The sound of it made something inside me twist.

Lifemates.

The word rose unbidden, heavy and dangerous. I held back an incredulous scoff.

Lifemates? Of course. Trust the goddess to add this plot to the story to stop me from going ahead with my plans.

If that was the idea, she should think twice.

I knew the stories by the way. Every ancient did, every reading supernatural did.

Problem was, most didn’t. And if they did, they didn’t bother with ancients which they regarded as extinct.

In the Queen’s library, the matter had been documented carefully, clinically, as though putting words to tragedy could make it easier to bear.

Lifemates.

The males, especially—when they passed eighty, sometimes younger—began to lose color. Literally. The world faded into shades of grey, as if someone had drained the pigment from existence. With it went joy. Desire. Meaning. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

Each day became a slow descent into emptiness.

Some lost the battle to the darkness inside them, surrendering and becoming vampires—creatures of the undead, bound to hunger and hatred.

Others, unable to bear that fate, after living for thousands of years, asked their brethren to kill them instead, believing death would lead them to paradise. It was better than warring with the darkness within them.

And when a male ancient finally found his mate, color returned. Life surged back, in all its meanings. Their feelings rush back, as do their emotions.

For the females, it was different. They didn’t battle darkness in the same way, because they are the bringers of life, wombs and whatnot. But, the books spoke of their senses sharpening when a lifemate was in view.

And now? Now it was happening to me.

I had always thought Adam smelled good. Clean. Earthy. Familiar. But this—this was overwhelming. His scent invaded my lungs, rich and intoxicating, making my breath hitch.

My vision sharpened painfully, colors exploding into brilliance. The brown of the rug deepened, the shadows took on layers, light fractured into hues I hadn’t known existed.

It was too much. I swayed, the room tilting.

"Sage?" Isla asked sharply, already at my side. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, though the movement felt weak. "Tell him," I said, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat, "tell Adam that I’m sleeping."

Her brows furrowed. "You don’t look—"

"Please."

She hesitated, then nodded slowly.

I didn’t wait to see if she would argue again. I turned and stumbled toward my room, every step feeling like I was walking through water. My legs carried me on instinct alone, my mind too busy unraveling.

Damn the goddess. I had underestimated the power of an ancient’s bond. Those supernaturals felt too deeply, when they did feel. And now, it was my turn. But I had to fight it.

I shut the door behind me and crossed the room blindly, collapsing onto the bed. I burrowed beneath the sheets, turning my face to the wall as though hiding could somehow shield me from fate.

My chest ached.

I cursed silently, violently, every god and goddess who had ever watched my life unravel and done nothing. My eyes burned, tears threatening, and I clenched them shut, refusing to let them fall.

Not this. Anything but this.

Footsteps approached.

My jaw tightened.

I cursed again when I felt him nearing my room, the pull sharpening, tightening like a noose around my ribs. Couldn’t Isla have blasted him away with magic? Couldn’t she have lied better?

I lifted my hand, intending to seal the door, to lock him out, but it was too late.

The door opened.

His scent flooded the room, wrapping around me, seeping into every crack in my resolve. My fingers curled into the sheets as heat pooled low in my belly, as my body reacted with humiliating eagerness.

I wanted him.

The realization terrified me.

I forced myself still, controlling my breathing, slowing my heartbeat until it mimicked sleep. Years of discipline served me well now. I didn’t move. I didn’t turn.

"Sage?" His voice was softer now, cautious. "Are you awake?"

I ignored him.

I felt him come closer, the bed dipping slightly beneath his weight. He stopped just behind me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him through the sheets.

What was he doing? What was he thinking?

My mind raced even as I fought the pull, fought the instinct that urged me to turn, to press back into him, to inhale him deeply and never let go.

I would not fall prey to this. Not now. Not ever.

Then he bent down. His lips brushed my forehead.

The contact was feather-light, reverent—and it shattered me.

"I have missed you," he murmured.

Something inside my chest cracked. Immediately, I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, grounding myself in the sharp sting of pain. Don’t move. Don’t react. Don’t give him anything.

He stayed like that for a moment longer, his breath warm against my skin, before straightening slowly. I felt the weight of his gaze on me, heavy with questions he didn’t yet know how to ask.

Finally, he stepped away.

Thank heavens!

When the door closed softly behind him, only then did I let myself breathe.

I stared at the wall, eyes wide and unseeing, my body trembling with everything I had suppressed. The bond of the ancients hummed beneath my skin, patient and unrelenting.

Maybe this was a curse. I mused, staring at my hands. I would have preferred not being ancient at all.