Page 21 of Mane Attraction
“I’m fine,” Xelene replied automatically, though her voice sounded strained even to her own ears. “Just processing everything.”
That was an understatement of epic proportions. She’d barely slept after Janice’s revelation, her mind spinning between disbelief and a growing recognition that explained too much. The instant attraction she’d felt when she first saw Lev in that office. The electric shock when their hands touched. The way her body seemed to hum in his presence, as if every nerve ending had suddenly come alive.
It just was,she thought, remembering Janice’s attempt to explain the mate bond.
Something that couldn’t be controlled or managed or strategically planned—it simply existed, whether Xelene wanted it or not.
The irony would’ve been laughable if the situation wasn’t so serious. She’d built her entire career on controlling narratives, managing perceptions, and fixing other people’s chaotic lives. Now she found herself thrust into a situation that defied every principle she’d lived by, connected to a man whose very existence challenged her carefully constructed world.
This morning, when she’d found Lev passed out in his clothes, reeking of expensive liquor and grief, she’d felt something shift inside her chest. Not just professional sympathy for a client in crisis, but a deeper ache—the kind of emotional response she’d trained herself to suppress years ago.
His questionnaire had painted a heartbreaking picture. Losing his mother as a baby. Growing up under the weight of impossible expectations. A father who’d ruled through emotional distance and rigid control, teaching Lev that love and duty were mutually exclusive. The numbers he’d provided—times drunk, sexual partners, reckless adventures—were clearly approximated, but the emotional truth beneath them rang clear as crystal.
Self-sabotage,she’d recognized immediately.Classic fear-based behavior.
Yet nowhere in those fifty brutally honest answers had he mentioned the mate bond. He’d laid his soul bare on paper but omitted the one detail that explained everything about their connection.
“Xelene.” Lev’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. He’d stopped walking and turned back, his blue eyes intense despite the lingering effects of his hangover. “Ready?”
She nodded, forcing her professional mask into place. Despite whatever cosmic force had apparently decided to upend her carefully ordered life, she still had a job to do. Lev needed to pass his Trial of the Sun in five days, and his reputation required immediate rehabilitation if he had any hope of gaining his pride’s trust.
You can do this,she told herself firmly.
But as Lev extended his arm for her to take—maintaining their charade as a couple even here, in this moment of grief—Xelene couldn’t help but feel like she was walking toward something that would change her life forever.
The warmth of his body through the ceremonial jacket sent familiar electricity racing up her arm, and she had to resist the urge to pull away. Or worse, to lean closer and let that intoxicating sense of rightness wash over her completely.
Control the story, control the outcome,she reminded herself, drawing on years of professional training.
But some stories she was beginning to suspect were bigger than any one person’s ability to control them.
Lev soon dropped his arm from where Xelene was holding it and wrapped his fingers around hers with a possessive intensity as they approached the ornate casket. The ceremonial grounds fell into reverent silence, hundreds of pride members turning to watch their grieving prince, walking hand-in-hand with the mysterious woman who’d appeared at their darkest hour.
Xelene forced her spine straight, drawing on years of professional training to maintain her composure despite the weight of so many curious, calculating eyes. The gravity of the moment pressed against her chest—this wasn’t just a funeral, it was a political theater where every gesture would be analyzed and dissected. She could feel the scrutiny like a physical force, pride members whispering behind their hands about Lev’s unexpected companion.
Control the narrative,she reminded herself, lifting her chin with practiced elegance.
But as they drew closer to the casket, Lev’s grip on her hand tightened almost desperately. She’d planned to step back and give him privacy for his final goodbye, but his fingers intertwined with hers in a silent plea that made her heart clench unexpectedly.
He needs this,she realized, studying his profile.He needs someone to anchor him.
The late King Rorick lay in state, his weathered face peaceful in death, wearing the same ceremonial attire Lev would someday inherit. Xelene had never met the man, but something about the strong jawline and proud bearing reminded her achingly of his son.
FOURTEEN
LEV
Lev stood motionless for long minutes, his broad shoulders rigid beneath the formal jacket. When he finally spoke, his deep voice cracked with raw emotion that stripped away every trace of the charming playboy she’d first encountered.
“I’m sorry, Father.” The words emerged quietly, meant only for the man who could no longer hear them. “Sorry I didn’t step up sooner. Sorry I was too selfish and stubborn to see what you were trying to teach me about duty and sacrifice.”
Xelene’s throat constricted as she watched this powerful Alpha lay his soul bare. This wasn’t the reckless prince from their first meeting or the notorious playboy whose reputation preceded him across Nova Aurora. This was a man who felt everything deeply, who carried the weight of expectations and love and loss like physical burdens.
“I’ll make you proud,” Lev continued, his voice gaining strength. “I’ll prove I’m the king this pride needs. I’ll continue your legacy and protect our people the way you taught me to.”
Tears pricked at Xelene’s eyes despite her best efforts to maintain composure. She’d built her life on reading people, on understanding their motivations and hidden depths, but Lev’sgrief hit her like a dagger to the heart. The mate bond Janice had explained seemed to amplify every emotion radiating from him, making his pain feel like her own.
This is dangerous,she warned herself as moisture gathered along her lashes.You’re losing objectivity.
