The Lycan Princess's Vengeance: Unmarked and Unbroken

Chapter 2

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed ten times.

Seraphina sat at the head of the long mahogany dining table, her posture impeccably straight. Before her sat a lavish dinner of roasted venison and root vegetables, completely untouched and stone cold. The candlelight flickered over her serene, emotionless face.

She had spent the last two hours meticulously compartmentalizing her rage. A true Royal did not strike wildly in the dark; they laid a trap, smiled at their prey, and waited for the perfect moment to snap the jaws shut.

The heavy oak front door clicked open.

"Sera! I'm home!"

Kaelen’s voice echoed through the grand hallway, dripping with forced exhaustion and false cheer. Seraphina didn't move a muscle as his heavy footsteps approached the dining room.

He walked in, wearing a perfectly tailored suit that Seraphina had bought for him. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he was carrying a small, white bakery box tied with a pink ribbon.

"My love," Kaelen sighed dramatically, walking over to her. He set the box on the table. "I am so sorry I’m late. I saw the lights were still on, and I brought those strawberry tarts you like from the bakery in town."

Seraphina looked at the box. The bakery in town closed at six. Elara’s sister owned it.

"How thoughtful," Seraphina said, her voice perfectly level. "You must be exhausted. You’ve been working so hard."

"You have no idea," Kaelen groaned, pulling out the chair next to her and slumping into it. He loosened his tie, playing the part of the weary leader to absolute perfection. "The elders are relentless. We were locked in the boardroom for four hours debating the western border budget. Old man Vance talked my ear off until I thought I was going to lose my mind."

*Old man Vance.* Elara’s father.

"Is that so?" Seraphina asked, resting her chin on her steepled fingers. "Did Elder Vance have any specific concerns? I reviewed the ledgers this morning. We have a surplus."

Kaelen waved his hand dismissively. "You know how he is. He’s always pushing for more funding for the clinic. Says they don't have enough medicinal supplies for the winter."

"The clinic," Seraphina repeated, tasting the word on her tongue. "Speaking of the clinic, how is Elara doing? She must be overwhelmed with the flu season approaching."

Kaelen’s hand froze halfway to the water pitcher. It was a microscopic hesitation, a tiny stutter in his flawless facade, but to a Lycan, it was as loud as a gunshot.

"Elara?" Kaelen cleared his throat, pouring himself a glass of water. "She’s fine. Doing her job. The junior healers do most of the heavy lifting anyway."

"We should invite her to dinner," Seraphina suggested mildly, her golden eyes locking onto his face. "To thank her for her service. After all, a Head Healer is vital to the pack’s future. We want to make sure she feels... appreciated."

Kaelen took a long sip of water, avoiding her gaze. "There's no need to mix pack business with our personal life, Sera. You know I like to keep this house a sanctuary for just the two of us."

*Just the two of us.*

Seraphina almost laughed. The sheer audacity of the man was breathtaking. He sat there, wearing the clothes she bought, living in the house she furnished, ruling the pack she built, and lied to her face without a shred of guilt.

"Of course," Seraphina murmured. "A sanctuary."

Kaelen set his glass down and finally looked at the cold food on the table. He sighed, leaning over to place a hand on her arm. "You waited up for me. You shouldn't have. You work too hard for me, Seraphina."

"I do," she agreed softly. "I really do."

"I appreciate it. I really do," he lied smoothly, standing up. He walked around to the back of her chair and placed his large hands on her shoulders. He began to massage the tense muscles at the base of her neck.

Seraphina’s skin crawled. Every place his fingers pressed felt like a violation. She could smell the faint, cloying scent of vanilla and lavender on his skin—Elara’s signature perfume, hastily scrubbed but not entirely erased.

"You’re so tense," Kaelen murmured, his lips brushing against her hair. His thumbs moved inward, deliberately brushing over the raised scar tissue on her collarbone.

*"Those scars? Please."* His cruel voice from the video echoed in her mind.

"I have a lot on my mind," Seraphina said, her voice tightening.

"Let me help you relax," Kaelen whispered. He leaned down, his mouth opening to press a wet kiss against the sensitive skin of her neck, right where he had refused to mark her for five years.

The moment his lips grazed her skin, a violent wave of revulsion crashed through Seraphina.

She violently shoved her chair back, the wooden legs screeching against the hardwood floor. She flung herself out of his reach, her hand flying to her neck as if she had been burned.

Kaelen stumbled back, his hands falling to his sides. The charming, doting smile vanished from his face, replaced by a dark, thunderous scowl.

"What was that?" Kaelen demanded, his Alpha aura flaring in annoyance.

Seraphina stood several feet away, her chest heaving as she forced her Lycan beast back into submission. Her wolf wanted to tear his throat out. She wanted to paint the dining room with his blood.

"I..." Seraphina forced herself to take a deep, shaky breath, masking her disgust with feigned weakness. "I'm sorry, Kaelen. I just... I feel violently ill."

Kaelen’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over her suspicious. "Ill? You never get sick. You’re practically immune to everything."

"Maybe I caught whatever is going around the clinic," she countered flawlessly, holding his gaze.

For a long moment, the dining room was suffocatingly tense. Kaelen stared at her, his jaw ticking. He was searching for a lie, searching for a hint of defiance. But Seraphina was a Princess of the Royal Court; she had been trained to lie to kings and warlords before she could walk.

Finally, Kaelen’s posture relaxed, though his eyes remained sharp and calculating.

"Right," Kaelen said coldly, clearly offended that his physical advances had been rejected. He adjusted his cuffs. "Well, if you're sick, you should go to bed. I have more reports to read in my office anyway."

"Don't stay up too late," Seraphina said, her voice dropping to a lifeless whisper. "You need your strength, Alpha."

Kaelen didn't answer. He turned on his heel and marched out of the dining room, leaving the box of strawberry tarts sitting on the table like a rotting centerpiece.

Seraphina watched him go. Slowly, she reached up and wiped her neck with the back of her hand, scrubbing the spot where his lips had touched her until the skin was raw and red.

*Enjoy your sanctuary tonight, Kaelen,* she thought, her eyes glowing in the dim light. *Because tomorrow, I burn it to the ground.*