Chapter 242
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Third Person’s POV
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“Susan,” Priscilla suddenly stopped and asked, “Do you think it’s possible that Alpha Lance truly favors Adelaide?”
She’d long harbored suspicions, especially given the ceremony’s grandeur–hardly the casual affair he’d described.
He talked like it was all just talk. But every process was handled with top–notch care. The villa was being decked out in pure luxury.
“If it’s true, that’s wonderful,” Susan replied. “At least Alpha Lance has found someone he loves.”
Priscilla shook her head, her brows creasing with worry. “No, that complicates things. If she’s the one he loves, he’d shield her in everything. How am I to assert my authority then?”
Susan placated her, “We’re just speculating. Don’t overthink it. If Adelaide were his true love, how could he have stood by and watched her mate with Ulrik?”
Priscilla saw her point.
Lance was far away on the battlefield back then. Even if he’d wanted to prevent Adelaide and Ulrik’s mating bond, it was impossible.
The distance between the front and the capital was vast. Even if Adelaide had given birth, Lance might not have known in time.
Moreover, focused on winning the war and believing Airella had consented to his and Adelaide’s mating bond, he was determined to return victorious.
Unaware of these details, Priscilla still viewed Adelaide as a blemish on her plans.
This conflicting mix of relief for her son’s impending marriage and dissatisfaction with his choice tormented her.
Meanwhile, both the Bloodmoon and Ironclaw Packs were busy preparing for the next day’s mating ceremony.
This was Ulrik’s third such ceremony, yet his feelings were entirely different from the previous two.
When he mated with Adelaide, he was overjoyed, considering her a moonstone–like treasure and the greatest fortune of his life.
Even when he received orders to deploy on the wedding day, seeing Adelaide in her gown filled him with happiness.
His vows were sincere then, but he ultimately missed his chance.
His mating bond with Velda was different. He believed he’d found a soulmate.
Though Velda’s suggestion to withhold half of Adelaide’s assets made him uneasy, it didn’t shake his
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optimism for the future.
Now, mating with Gloria was arranged by Lycan Erasmus.
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Ulrik had met Gloria only once. She was more beautiful than Velda but lacked Adelaide’s brilliance.
Most importantly, he felt nothing for Gloria. Her presence left him indifferent.
Worse still, the previous mating ceremony had drained the Bloodmoon Pack’s resources. Even the million dollars from Lycan Erasmus were spent, and he still couldn’t afford a decent ceremony for Gloria.
Fortunately, the Ironclaw Pack was wealthy, and with Gloria’s brother Tad as the Royal Army commander, the ceremony wouldn’t be shabby.
But the fact that this ceremony was on the same day as Lance and Adelaide’s was a headache. Guests trying to please both sides would have to rush between locations.
This was all due to Tad’s influence, not Ulrik’s standing, which filled him with frustration and thoughts of withdrawal.
Now, he had to deal with Velda’s mood. If she caused a scene on the ceremony day, it would be disastrous and humiliating.
Pushing open the door, Ulrik’s cedar pheromones swirled into fog on the porch.
Velda sat quietly in a wolf–head–crested armchair, her mint pheromones tinged with the coppery stench of blood. It mirrored the night he’d told Adelaide he’d mate with someone else—except now, the unhealed mark on her neck oozed silver–blue blood, a sign of pheromone disruption.
“I know you feel wronged,” his cedar pheromones carried an apologetic tone, his wolf ears drooping.
“Mrs. Voss indicated that Lycan Erasmus personally approved this.”
Recalling the emperor’s overwhelming pressure, the temporary mark on his neck flared.
Velda lifted her head, her mint pheromones intensifying, her pupils slitting into bloodlines under the candlelight. “Did you say the same to Adelaide before mating with me?”
Her scarred cheek seeped silver–blue blood, a clash of Solanke’s wolfsbane and Ulrik’s cedar.
“No, I told you outright that my heart was yours.”
Ulrik’s wolf claws dug into his palms, silver–blue droplets staining the blood–moon carpet.
He remembered that night–Adelajde’s ear tips gleaming in the moonlight, his cedar pheromones untainted by today’s regret.
She suddenly laughed, her unveiled scar twisting in the candlelight, her mint pheromones laced with twisted delight. “And now? Who holds your heart?”
Ulrik’s cedar pheromones spiraled into chaos, sulfur–laced with the stench of burning.
Staring at the wolfsbane – scarred mark on Velda’s neck, he recalled Adelaide on the battlefield, her wolf claws tearing enemy flags, the moonlight cascading over her armor—his wolf soul had whimpered
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uncontrollably.