"Ah..." A soft, breathless whimper slipped from her lips as she tried to draw air, her hands instinctively pushing against him. But before she could create any distance, her wrists were caught, held firmly in place, and whatever protest she meant to voice was swallowed whole by the deepening kiss.

A sharp, tingling sensation spread through Ashley’s body, pooling low and dangerously intense, sending unfamiliar sensations spiraling through her core, overwhelming, disorienting... and frightening.

It left her breath unsteady, her body reacting in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend as she could feel going wet between her thighs, and that realization alone sent a flicker of panic through her. Her eyes snapped open as her senses rushed back, only to meet Gideon’s gaze fixed intently on her.

His gaze was dark and consuming.

There was something in his eyes that made her heart stutter, something that felt far too intense, and it felt as though he could devour her whole. Then it shifted, just for a fleeting moment, and that same instinctive alarm rose within her again.

It was the same feeling she had sensed earlier, that quiet, dangerous presence. For a split second, it was as though she saw something in his flickering gaze... like a wolf was staring back at her.

The shock jolted her.

She didn’t know where the strength came from, but she managed to wrench her hands free and pushed against him with sudden force, breaking the contact between them. Gideon staggered back a step, equally caught off guard.

Silence fell between them, heavy and disorienting.

He stared at her, his eyes slightly widened, his composure fractured in a way that was almost imperceptible, but was clearly there. Whether it was from being pushed away, the unfamiliar sting of rejection, or the realization of what he had just done... even he couldn’t seem to tell.

For a moment, he simply stood there, as if struck by his own actions, by the fact that he had followed her without thought, cornered her, and kissed her with a hunger that felt far too instinctive... far too uncontrolled.

This was a first for him.

From the moment he became aware of the world around him, attention had always come too easily. Women, and at times even men, were drawn to him instinctively, like moths to a flame.

Their admiration was never subtle; it carried an undercurrent of desire, an unspoken invitation for intimacy that he had long since learned to recognize. But rather than indulge in it, he had grown to resent it.

Their gazes, their proximity, it all felt suffocating, intrusive, as though he were something to be claimed at will. Instead of basking in it, he found himself repulsed, detached, and he felt as though he were nothing more than an exhibit behind glass.

Fortunately, his presence alone was enough to keep most at bay. There was an edge to him, a quiet intimidation that discouraged anyone from acting too boldly, forming an invisible barrier that preserved his distance.

And yet, perhaps because of that very distance, he had never truly understood desire, not in the way others seemed to.

Which made this... incomprehensible.

To think that he, of all people, would lose control so completely, would follow her without hesitation, corner her in the most inappropriate of places, and act on an impulse so raw it bordered on instinct, it shattered the very foundation of who he believed himself to be.

"What the fuck, Xiberius?!" Gideon’s voice thundered through the confines of his own mind, raw with disbelief and fury. "Why did you take control of my body just to stalk Miss Ashley, and you even... you even kissed her like that?!" The memory burned fresh, sharp enough to make his thoughts tremble with outrage.

Yes, Gideon was no ordinary man; he was an Alpha, a werewolf, more precisely, a Lycan.

The distinction was not merely a matter of form, though that alone was striking. Where ordinary werewolves moved on all fours in their transformed state, Lycans retained a more humanoid structure, capable of standing upright, their bodies heavier with muscle, their presence far more imposing.

But that superiority came at a cost. Lycans were stronger, faster, and deadlier, yet far more volatile. The bloodlust that coursed through them was not easily contained, and once control slipped, they did not simply rage; they descended into their feral madness, something monstrous, where instinct devoured reason whole.

"I only reacted because her scent was... intoxicating. I couldn’t hold back," Xiberius growled in response, its voice rough and edged with defiance.

The wolf bristled beneath Gideon’s restraint, displeased with the reprimand. As a Lycan’s wolf, it was not bound by reason, only instinct, raw and unfiltered, guiding every impulse without hesitation or restraint.

Gideon exhaled sharply, forcing himself to regain control, though irritation still simmered beneath the surface. His jaw tightened as he steadied his thoughts, suppressing the lingering pull that still clawed at him from within.

"Then tell me," he pressed, his voice low but firm, "is she our mate?"

"I don’t know..." Xiberius answered, almost carelessly, as if the question itself didn’t warrant deeper thought. Yet beneath that indifference, the wolf remained restless, coiled, eager, still driven by the lingering urge to chase after Ashley and finish what it had started.

That answer nearly snapped the last thread of Gideon’s restraint.

He clenched his jaw, a surge of frustration rising sharply within him. None of this made sense. His wolf had reacted so violently, drawn to her scent, compelled to touch her, to claim her mouth without warning or control.

If she hadn’t pushed him away when she did... he didn’t even want to consider how far that loss of control might have gone. And yet, despite all of that, Xiberius couldn’t even confirm she was their mate.

Then what the hell was that?

Gideon dragged in a slow breath, trying to steady himself, but his thoughts refused to settle. Lycans were not like ordinary werewolves. They were stronger, older in lineage, often called cursed, but also revered.

They are weapons of war. The blade behind the throne. Their kind stood at the peak of the hierarchy, bowing only to strength, and more often than not, becoming leaders themselves.

And like all werewolves, they were bound by the concept of fated mates.

But for Lycans, it was never simple.

Their mates had to be strong, exceptional, even. Bearing a Lycan’s offspring demanded immense vitality; a weak partner wouldn’t survive the process, and neither would the pup. In the past, the most suitable matches came from the royal bloodlines... but those had long since been wiped out.

Which meant...

Gideon’s expression darkened.

Ashley didn’t fit. She couldn’t.

And yet his instincts had reacted as if she did.

A flicker of unease settled deep within him. For the first time in a long while, Gideon felt something dangerously close to uncertainty, and he hated it.

He knew, deep down, that he might never have a fated mate. How could he? A man like him, burdened by sins he neither denied nor forgot, was not meant for something as rare as that kind of bond.

Long ago, he had already buried that possibility, sealing it away with the rest of the things he knew he could never claim.

And yet... for a fleeting moment, when Xiberius reacted so violently, so instinctively, a spark of hope had ignited within him.

Only to be extinguished just as quickly.

Xiberius’s uncertainty crushed it before it could take form, leaving behind nothing but a hollow trace of what could have been. Gideon exhaled slowly, his expression hardening as reason clawed its way back to the surface.

Perhaps there was no deeper meaning to any of this. Perhaps his wolf had simply lost control, driven mad by something as basic, as crude, as unfamiliar desire. After all, Xiberius had never experienced anything close to a mating bond before.

It wasn’t impossible that, upon catching the scent of a female that stirred something new, it had reacted without restraint, without thought.

Yes... perhaps it was nothing more than that.

The explanation was simple. Too simple, but acceptable.

And so, Gideon forced the thought down, burying it alongside everything else, his composure slipping back into place as though nothing had ever been shaken at all.

"Miss Ashley..." Gideon stepped forward, intending to help her down from the sink, to say something, anything, that might pass for an apology after the way he had lost control. But before his hand could even reach her...

A sharp crack split the air.

Her palm struck his cheek.

The force barely registered as pain, yet the impact landed squarely on his pride. For a split second, everything in him went still. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding as he swallowed the surge of anger that rose instinctively within him.

As a Lycan, such a gesture was not something he was accustomed to receiving, least of all from someone he had just...

His nostrils flared as he exhaled, slow and controlled, but the tension in him was unmistakable. Those smoky gray eyes snapped back to her, darkened now, simmering with restrained fury that threatened to break through his composure.

It should have been enough to frighten her.

And it did.

For a brief moment, Ashley felt her chest tighten under the weight of his gaze, her instincts screaming at her to retreat. But she didn’t move. She held her ground.

Because what he had done, no matter how overwhelming it felt, had crossed a line.