Chapter 10 — Xavian (POV): Claiming Without Forcing
1362 Words
I have worn a crown since I was eighteen.
Gold, forged with blood and oath, heavy with expectation and fear. I learned early that power is not taken, it is endured. That ruling is not about domination, but restraint.
Tonight, restraint is the hardest thing I have ever faced.
The forest beyond Moonveil Pack is silent, yet my senses are stretched tight, every sound sharp, every heartbeat within the territory a distant echo against my skull. I stand at the edge of their land, hands clasped behind my back, breathing in air that does not belong to me.
And still... I feel her.
Seris.
The bond hums low beneath my skin, not roaring, not demanding, waiting. It is patient in a way that feels almost cruel, like fate itself is watching to see what kind of king I will be.
I could cross the distance between us in seconds.
I could step into that pack house, take one look at her, and the bond would snap tight, irreversible. The world would realign around that truth. She would be mine.
That is the way of Lycan's.
But I do not move.
Because she has already been forced once.
Leon joins me without a sound, his presence familiar and grounding. My Beta does not speak immediately. He knows better than to interrupt my thoughts when the bond is this close to the surface.
“She hasn’t slept,” he finally says.
“I know.”
“You felt it.”
“Yes.”
Silence settles again.
Leon shifts slightly. “Theo hasn’t left her side.”
“I know.”
There is no jealousy in me only acknowledgment. The Omega has done what her pack failed to do. He stood when no one else would.
That earns my respect.
“It’s bad in there,” Leon continues. “The tension. The whispers. Moonveil pretends to be civilized, but they’re rotting from the inside.”
“They rejected their Luna,” I say coldly. “That rot was already there.”
Leon exhales slowly. “If you claim her, they’ll never forgive her.”
“If I don’t,” I reply, “they will destroy her.”
That is the truth no one wants to say aloud.
I turn toward the trees, golden eyes reflecting the moonlight. “That is why I will not claim her yet.”
Leon stiffens. “Xavian...”
“She deserves choice,” I cut in, voice steady but unyielding. “Real choice. Not fear. Not pressure. Not instinct overriding her will.”
“The bond won’t wait forever.”
“I will.”
That earns me a long look.
“You’re risking everything.”
“I know.”
I do not go to her that night.
I stay at the border, keeping my presence distant but undeniable. A warning to anyone foolish enough to think the rejected Omega is still unprotected.
The wolves feel it.
They always do.
-----
By morning, Moonveil Pack is restless.
I sense Seris waking before the sun crests the trees. Her emotions brush against the bond, confusion, exhaustion, a flicker of fear she tries to bury. I grit my teeth and anchor myself, forcing the pull to ease rather than tighten.
She does not need me in her head.
She needs space.
When Alpha Lucien summons me to the pack house, I do not refuse.
The meeting is stiff. Polite. False.
Lucien sits at the head of the table, Valeria beside him, Draven standing to the right like a shadow that refuses to detach itself from the past.
He does not meet my eyes.
Good.
“We appreciate your restraint,” Lucien begins carefully. “Moonveil values its autonomy.”
“As it should,” I reply evenly. “That is why I have not challenged it.”
“And yet your presence alone has… unsettled the pack.”
“Your pack rejected a fated bond,” I say calmly. “Unsettled is inevitable.”
Draven’s jaw tightens.
Lucien clears his throat. “What is it you want, King Xavian?”
I meet his gaze fully now, letting a fraction of my power surface. The room stills.
“I want Seris protected,” I say. “From harm. From coercion. From retaliation.”
Valeria frowns. “She is still Moonveil...”
“She is my mate,” I interrupt quietly.
The word lands like thunder.
Draven’s head snaps up.
Lucien goes rigid. “You said you would not claim...”
“I said I would not force,” I correct. “There is a difference.”
The bond pulses at the admission, warm and alive.
“I will not mark her,” I continue. “I will not remove her from your territory. Not yet. But understand this, any harm that comes to her will be answered.”
Silence.
Then Lucien nods slowly. “Very well.”
Draven speaks before he can stop himself. “She’s an Omega.”
I turn to him.
Really look at him.
And I see it, regret tangled with fear, pride curdled into something bitter and useless.
“She is Luna-born,” I say softly. “You were simply too blind to see it.”
His breath stutters.
I leave after that.
I do not look back.
I find her by accident.
Or perhaps fate has finally lost patience with me.
Seris is in the herb garden behind the pack house, crouched low among crushed leaves and soil, hands stained green. She looks smaller in daylight, shadows still clinging beneath her eyes.
Theo is there always but he steps away when he senses me, jaw tight, gaze sharp.
He does not bare his throat.
Good.
Seris feels me before she sees me.
She stiffens, then slowly rises to her feet, turning to face me.
Up close, the bond aches.
Not violently aching like a held breath, like something unfinished.
“Your Majesty,” she says, voice steady despite the tremor I feel through the bond.
“Xavian,” I correct gently. “Only that.”
Her eyes flicker. Gold meets silver. Fear wrapped in curiosity.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she says.
“I know.”
“And yet...”
“I wanted to see you,” I admit.
Honesty is the only thing that will not break her.
Theo shifts, clearly displeased, but does not interrupt.
“I won’t claim you,” I say before she can speak. “Not without your consent. Not ever.”
Her breath catches.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she whispers.
“I do,” I say. “I am asking you to choose.”
She studies me like she’s looking for a trap.
“Why?”
“Because you were denied that once,” I answer. “And I will not build our bond on stolen ground.”
Silence stretches.
Then, quietly, she asks, “If I say no?”
The bond tightens, waiting.
I bow my head just slightly. A king’s concession.
“Then I will still protect you,” I say. “As Lycan King. As fate demands. Not as your mate.”
Her eyes shine.
Not with tears.
With something far more dangerous.
Hope.
I step back, giving her space, resisting every instinct screaming to close the distance.
“When you are ready,” I say, “I will be here.”
And then I turn away.
Because claiming without forcing... Is the only way a Luna should ever be crowned.
- Writer
