Lycan King’s Nemesis

**ASHTON**

I was not supposed to feel a stab of jealousy as I watched my mate’s head gradually bounce in agreement with my response. Since that day I overheard the name of that man, it unsettled me, the same way seeing Tyler close to her made me desire to murder him.

I wanted more than anything to know who that man was, where he existed and how important he was to my mate, and if he still held a place in her heart. Somehow when she was speaking, he was the first to cross my mind. And seeing the way she sighed sadly, her eyes pitched at the glossy table top, I understood from within that it was an answer obvious to the eyes.

My mate was still in love with her first crush.

“I’m sorry, Ashton,” She mumbled softly, “Julian and I…”

“You don’t need to tell me about him, little wolf,” I schooled myself to say, forcing on a smooth smile as she managed to gaze at me. “We all have our past.”

“Like Emma?” She was fast to add. My hand which had located hers on the table to soothe her, dropped to my side as I nodded my head. It was my time to deem this ache in my heart I continuously felt each time I recalled the first love of my life.

I didn’t like talking about her because it would do nothing but open old wounds and cause me withdrawals. The first time she left, that day at the altar, for the next 1year, I lived in a delusional bubble I created for myself, believing she would come back. My mother said I was being weak and not acting accordingly like the King she raised.

I thought her coldhearted and did not understand the level of pain I was going through. Emma was a woman that made me for once want to be anything else but a King. She made me feel like a human. A real person without the titles and other things. I was carried away by her boisterousness, lively ensemble and too-sweet personality. For once I didn’t think her a she-devil.

A disaster waiting to happen.

My mother saw through her and warned me on several occasions, but I was in love, deeply, madly in love with her I had refused to listen. Refused to see through the eyes of others believing only in the perfect image I made out of her. I was only 25.

That was until she left me that very day at the altar, before my people, the very people I wanted her to rule by my side. She tossed all that away, everything we planned together to make the wind, and to date, never returned.

“Ashton?”

I swallowed, realizing I was allowing her to get to me once again. She was doing it; sneaking into my head and making me want to do hurtful things. Hurt others so they could feel what I felt inside of me. What others don’t see! The monster the little vixen made me into!

My right fist clenched and unclenched and only froze when I felt a warmer finger on top of them and remained. It was very calming, just like hers.

“Let her go, Ashton, for your own good.”

“Have you let yours go?” I questioned her, somewhere deep praying she had.

“He was not mine in the first place,” she snickered; a sound that came out stifled. She was playing calm, and I liked her more for that. “He is my sister’s and I respect that. I will forever remember the childhood we shared and everything, however, I have learned to let go.”

Are those words genuine? If the same man was to appear here in my Kingdon and wanted her back, is she going to still speak the same language? Or is she going to leave me for him?

I don’t think I would want that now that I have found her. The one who was going to make me forget the wretched wench, Emma. The balm to heal my long-borne wounds.

“I envy how swift you are to move on from the very people you claim to have loved so dearly, Gwen…” I stood up and began gathering our plates. She joined me, from time to time flicking those Dole eyes at me.

It did things to me as well as built a need inside that begged to be assuaged. A raw animalistic need.

“I have a new family and life to focus on, Ash.” She was composed now. “I told myself a long time ago to learn to move on fast with my present and only learn from my past so that I don’t end up being swallowed up by the mistakes of my past.”

“What if that past is meant to guide you from repeating the same mistakes in the future?” I asked as we entered the kitchen and deposited the dirty dishes in the sink. I went forward to slide the window seal down to ward off shower that wind carried inside.

“We are saying the same thing.” She separated the filth from the plates, placing them in the trashcan. Then she proceeded to load the dishes in the dishwasher. I would have preferred we handled it manually, but I paused by the side enjoying watching how she worked. So dedicated.

Strands of hair fell to the left side of her face and she tried to remove them but ended up causing a handful of others to join the band. She said something under her breath. She was absentminded.

“… the most important thing is that we have our present and should take advantage of that.”

“What of the wounds that refuse to heal?” I crossed my legs, reclining against the counter directly behind her, with my right leg intersecting with the other.

“Ashton, I understand that your past is very delicate and something you don’t want to talk about possibly as a result of how badly you were treated, but one thing I will tell you is this… if you want to experience a beautiful future, then start letting go of things about her that reminds you of her.”

What is she trying to say? I have nothing of Emma that reminded me of her. I made sure I disposed of everything of her, burnt and eliminated them all. I didn’t want to see her dress, smell her, or an_

Well, apart from her photos and frameworks. I recollected packing them all away and then I couldn’t do it and had to bring them here. Is that what she was talking about?

I decided not to tread in that path. The side of my left lip quirked and I nodded once. “I will keep that in mind.”

I pushed away from the counter to her and reached out to pack her hair behind her ears. I secured it so that there was no way it would leave its bound again.

She trembled as my fingers mistakenly grazed her neck. It made me proud knowing how much I affected her. Even my mere presence had her quivering as if I were some walking bomb.

“Thanks,” she whispered, grabbed a napkin, and wiped her hands as she finished unloading the dishes. I took them from the table to replace them in their cart, careful not to let anyone slip. This felt so good. And so natural.

“Are you sure your mother won’t be worried about our absence?” As she asked, her voice was laced with concern. Her worry was justified. Knowing my mother, she was possibly gnashing her teeth of our absence, particularly at a time like this.

And that gladdened me to the core.

“No,” I took her two shoulders and massaged softly, guiding her to my former spot with her facing outside while I stood behind her. With the rain falling outside, the trees were sagged in defeat, their green dimming from the cold. I almost felt pity for them.

“Do you think the ball is going to go smoothly?” She purred, her shoulders relaxing and her head bent to the side.

“I trust that whatever you and my mother organized is something that is going to be one of a kind. So, fret not.”

Her right hand came up to touch mine on her left shoulder, her eyes not leaving outside. “You have no idea how I feel when you say such adorable words to me.”

“Hmm, but I mean them.”

“And that is what makes them even more endearing.” She shifted to the side. “Do you have any idea the people to be invited? Mother said it’s not for everyone.”

“Most certainly,” I eased. “Mother will acquaint you with our consistent list of invitees to the notable occasion.”

Her brow slanted in perplexity. “Why do you have to keep having the same people every year?”

“Because that is the tradition, little wolf.”

“Still, don’t you get bored of the status quo? Seeing the same faces every year? If you ask me I will say we invite more people. New people. It will spice things up. Change the menu, the decorations, everything.”

She had a point. But, the problem was, is my mother going to agree?

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