In Heat
1136 Words
I couldn’t sleep.
No matter how many times I closed my eyes, the darkness behind my lids felt heavier than the one that draped the sky outside. The silence in my room wasn’t peaceful—it was suffocating. My heart was hollow, echoing with a pain that felt far too familiar.
It reminded me of the first time I saw Dorian with another.
That day, I had walked into the strategy room—his scent still lingering there—only to find him wrapped around one of his Betas. Her lips on his neck, her laughter soft, and his hands… possessive. I had frozen, unsure whether to walk away or scream. I did neither. I had simply turned back in silence. And when I confronted him, he had said it was meaningless, just stress relief after battle.
But now, it wasn’t meaningless.
This time, he had to mark her.
A concubine.
The title was official. This wasn’t a passing affair or a drunken mistake. It was a declaration. A permanent addition to the pack hierarchy. And this time, it was with someone who didn’t even know how to shift. An Omega. A fragile, trembling girl who had clung to Dorian’s fur like he was her only anchor.
And maybe… he was.
Still, none of that changed what it meant for me.
My hands curled into fists as I lay there in the bed that once felt like mine but now felt borrowed. The emptiness in my chest swelled until I thought it would tear me in two. I thought I had run out of heartbreak a long time ago, but pain was clever—it always found a new way to cut deeper.
They never respected me. Not truly.
They only needed my name. My bloodline. My lineage. The Crimson Claw—one of the oldest, most powerful lines in werewolf history. And I, the last surviving daughter of that legacy, was a trophy to be polished and paraded.
They had begged me to marry him after the war. After I had bled, killed, and nearly died for their victory. I still remember the way they spoke in that hall—ministers and elders, faces glowing with fake reverence.
"You’re the hero of the war, Kira."
"Only you can secure the peace. Your union with Alpha Dorian will save thousands."
And I had believed them. Or maybe, I had wanted to.
I had harbored feelings for Dorian back then. Foolish, girlish dreams of a strong Alpha and a brave warrior standing side by side. So I married him, thinking I was stepping into a future filled with love and purpose.
Instead, I stepped into a cage.
A cage gilded with duty, responsibility, and silence. They used my name to draw loyal soldiers to Dorian’s banner, claiming it was a union of strength and nobility. And once my worth had been spent—once I had no army of my own, no allies to stand beside me—they began to show their true faces.
I was a title. A tool. A vessel for power. Nothing more.
Still, I had endured. I bore the role of Luna with grace, even if it was in name only. I watched Dorian rise, watched him celebrate victories and forge alliances, and told myself that my sacrifice had meaning.
But tonight, something inside me snapped.
That Omega girl wasn’t just another betrayal. She was the replacement they had been waiting for. The ministers would welcome her, mold her into their ideal, and slowly erase me from every corner of this palace.
They didn’t want my bloodline to thrive. They wanted it to vanish.
I sat up in bed, my breath shaky. The moonlight bled through the curtains, pale and cold, and I thought perhaps staring at the sky would help clear my thoughts. I rose quietly, draping a shawl over my shoulders as I moved toward the balcony.
But before I reached the glass door, a scent hit me.
Sharp. Musky. New.
It rolled through the room like thunder before the storm.
I froze.
That scent… it was the scent of a new mate bond. It was faint, but unmistakable—like the aftershock of something sacred being claimed.
My blood ran cold.
Without thinking, I bolted out of my room, the long hallway eerily silent save for the faint rustle of robes and footsteps. I turned the corner and saw them—several ministers, a few high-ranking servants, all standing still like statues before Dorian’s chamber.
Their eyes were fixed on the door. Their expressions… expectant. Almost smug.
When they saw me, they stepped aside—slowly, respectfully, but with a hint of calculation in their eyes. No one spoke. No one had to.
I was already shaking when the door finally opened.
And there he stood.
Dorian.
Still shirtless, his hair tousled, lips tinged with red. His aura filled the corridor like wildfire, commanding and warm—but all I felt was cold.
He didn’t even look surprised to see me.
“She went into heat,” he said flatly, voice steady. “And I marked her.”
No apology. No remorse. Just facts. Like announcing a weather report.
My breath caught in my throat.
"You… what?" I whispered. I hated how my voice cracked.
“She’s an Omega,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “It was dangerous for her to be unclaimed. You know how it is. Her heat came suddenly. It would’ve harmed her… maybe even killed her.”
“So you saved her?” I asked, the words bitter on my tongue.
He nodded. “She needed help. I did what was necessary.”
The ministers behind me shifted, pretending to give us privacy while hanging onto every word. Dorian’s eyes met mine. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink.
“She’s not replacing you,” he added casually. “This is political. Nothing more. She’s destiny.”
Destiny.
That word again.
They all used it when they wanted to justify something cruel. Destiny when they pushed me into marriage. Destiny when they asked me to abandon my battalion and move into this palace. Destiny when they stripped me of power and gave me a crown of ash.
And now, destiny again.
This time to explain why another woman bore his mark. Why another name would soon be sung in the halls as the favored mate of Alpha Dorian.
I didn’t say a word.
I turned around slowly, walking past the ministers without acknowledging them. I could feel their eyes on my back—curious, judging, maybe even relieved.
They thought this would break me.
But as I walked back down the hall, my heart beat with something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Not sorrow.
Not helplessness.
But rage.
White-hot and silent.
- Writer
