Chapter 2 The Campus King

Lycian‘s POV

My father’s face filled the laptop screen, and I resisted the urge to close it mid-sentence. Thaddeus Valor didn’t tolerate being interrupted. Or ignored. Or really anything that suggested his authority wasn’t absolute.

“Twenty-two years old, Lycian.” His voice came through crystal clear despite his being two hours away at the estate. “Your grandfather was married by twenty. I was married by twenty-one. This is getting ridiculous.”

I leaned back in my chair, keeping my expression neutral. My penthouse office overlooked campus, floor-to-ceiling windows showing the quad below. Students walked to evening classes, completely unaware that the guy in the building above them was getting lectured about his love life.

“I’m aware of the timeline,” I said evenly.

“Being aware isn’t the same as doing something about it.” My father’s eyes narrowed. “The pack needs stability. An unmated Alpha at your age creates questions. Doubts. It makes you look weak.”

I wasn’t weak. If anything, I was too controlled. Too careful. My wolf had been getting restless for months now, pushing at the edges of my control like it was testing a fence. But that wasn’t something I could explain to my father.

“Marcus Blackthorn called me yesterday,” my father continued. “He mentioned Madison is very interested in strengthening the alliance between our families.”

Of course he did. Marcus had been pushing that agenda for years. An arranged match between his daughter and the Valor heir. Neat. Strategic. Profitable for both families.

Completely wrong for me.

“I’m not interested in Madison,” I said flatly.

“Interest isn’t required. Compatibility is.” My father’s tone suggested this wasn’t up for debate.

Before my father could respond, my younger brother Damien leaned into view from wherever he was lurking off-screen. “Maybe Lycian’s just too picky,” he said with a grin. “Waiting for some romance novel moment where he meets his one true love.”

“This isn’t a joke, Damien.”

“Kind of is, though.” Damien was nineteen and treated everything like a joke. “He’s got she-wolves throwing themselves at him daily. If he can’t pick one by now, maybe the problem isn’t them.”

My wolf stirred at that, a low growl building in my chest that I forced down. Not now. Not during a video call with my family watching.

“The charity gala is this weekend,” my father said, ignoring Damien. “I expect you to make an effort. Talk to some appropriate candidates. Show the pack you’re taking this seriously.”

“I’ll be there.” Like I had a choice.

“Good. We’ll discuss this more when I see you.” He ended the call without saying goodbye.

I closed my laptop and dropped my head back against the chair. My wolf was pacing now, restless and irritated. It had been doing that more and more lately. Like something was missing.

My phone buzzed. A text from Cade.

Gym? You sound like you need to hit something.

I smiled despite my mood. Cade had been my Beta and best friend since we were kids. He could read me better than anyone.

Twenty minutes.

The campus gym was technically open to all students, but there were certain hours when wolves tended to take over. Evening was one of them. By the time I arrived, the weight room was full of familiar faces. Pack members, allied families, wolves who understood the hierarchy.

Cade was already there, bench-pressing an amount that would make humans suspicious. He racked the bar when he saw me and sat up, grinning.

“Let me guess. Your dad’s on you about mating again.”

“What gave it away?”

“The fact that you look like you want to murder something.” He grabbed a towel and wiped his face. “What’d he say this time?”

“The usual. I’m twenty-two. It’s tradition. The pack needs stability.” I moved to the squat rack and started loading weights. Heavy ones. “Oh, and apparently Marcus Blackthorn is campaigning hard for Madison.”

“Madison Blackthorn?” Cade made a face. “Dude. No.”

“Not interested.”

“I mean, she’s hot, but she’s also kind of terrifying. In a bad way.”

I grunted in agreement and started my set. The physical exertion helped, gave my wolf something to focus on besides the constant restless energy.

Through the mirror, I could see a group of she-wolves on the cardio machines. They weren’t even pretending to work out anymore, just watching me. Waiting for eye contact. An invitation. Anything.

I ignored them.

This happened everywhere. Class, the student center, off campus. She-wolves made it very clear they were available. Interested. Some were subtle about it. Others were aggressive. None of them felt right.

My wolf didn’t even stir when they looked at me. That was the problem. I could appreciate that they were attractive. Some were smart, accomplished, from good families. On paper, several of them would make perfectly acceptable mates.

But my wolf rejected every single one.

“You know what your problem is?” Cade asked, moving to the rack next to mine.

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“You’re waiting for something that might not exist. That instant recognition thing. The perfect mate bond.” He shrugged. “Maybe you need to be more practical about it.”

He wasn’t wrong. That’s what most wolves did. Very few actually experienced the legendary instant mate recognition. Most found suitable partners and built relationships that eventually strengthened into proper bonds.

But my wolf refused to settle. It wanted something specific. Something we hadn’t found yet.

“The gala’s this weekend,” Cade said, changing the subject. “You ready for that nightmare?”

I groaned. The charity gala. My family’s annual event where we pretended to care about scholarships while really just showing off our wealth and influence.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“At least the food’s good. And hey, maybe you’ll get lucky. Maybe your mystery perfect mate will show up.”

“That’s not how it works.”

We worked out for another hour. By the time I got back to my penthouse, my muscles ached in a good way and my wolf had settled down. Temporarily, at least.

I showered and changed, then stood at my window looking out over campus. My phone buzzed again. A reminder about the gala schedule.

Three more days until the gala. Three more days of freedom before the circus started.

But as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my wolf wouldn’t settle completely. It paced in the back of my mind, searching for something in the dark.

Something that wasn’t there. Not yet.