CLAIMED BY THE BANISHED ALPHA

You chose me

DAMON’S POV

I did not expect it to affect me, the way she had formally called me alpha. I don’t even know what I was expecting her to call me in that moment. I guess I was just an alpha to her after I had rejected her and mate it clear that she had been a lapse in judgement. It didn’t matter anyway…that was the first lie that I told myself.

The second was believing I could simply relocate to another chamber and the matter would settle itself. It didn’t. The room I chose was larger. Warmer. The bed softer.

I did not sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the way she had leaned back, not dramatically or fearfully but deliberately.

Do not.

The word had not been loud, but it had been final and intentional. I had rejected her first, publicly and privately. Strategically. It should have balanced the scale. Instead, her refusal felt… different.

Personal.

My wolf was restless beneath my skin, irritated in a way I could not silence. The bond felt strained, like a tether pulled too tight. She had withdrawn, not physically.

Emotionally, and I had not anticipated how disorienting that would be. By morning, irritation had settled into something sharper. I was accustomed to control. To predictability. From the moment I had first met her I had underestimated her, I thought..I convinced myself that she was loyal, soft spoken and steady. Last night, she had looked at me like I was optional, nothing like what I thought she was

That was new, and I disliked it, Nyra found me before midday. She approached during council review, dismissing the attendants with a smooth flick of her wrist. When the doors closed, she turned to me fully.

“You are distracted,” she said.

“I am not.”

“You didn’t hear a word Elder Marcellus said.”

“I heard enough.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, she circled the desk instead of remaining across from it. A calculated move — closing space, claiming presence.

“You have not sought my company,” she said. “You have not sent for me. You have barely looked at me since the ceremony.”

“I have been occupied.”

“With what?”

“Pack matters.”

“Pack matters,” she repeated, unimpressed. “Do these pack matters keep you awake at night?”

My jaw tightened.

“I do not require sleep to function.”

“That is not what I asked.”

Nyra studied me carefully, she was perceptive. That was one of the reasons I chose her.

“Something shifted after the ceremony,” she continued. “I felt it.”

Of course she had. Wolves always sensed instability in leadership.

“You imagine tension because you expect celebration,” I said evenly.

“And you imagine I won’t notice when your scent changes.”

That made my eyes lift to hers.

“My scent,” I repeated.

“It’s sharper,” she said quietly. “Agitated.”

My wolf stirred at the accusation.

Annoyance flared.

“I am managing multiple alliances,” I said. “You mistake pressure for weakness.”

Nyra stepped closer.

“I would never accuse you of weakness,” she murmured. “But I would question distance.”

She lifted her hand toward my collar.

I caught her wrist before she touched me, not roughly but firmly.

Her brows lifted slightly.

“You are tense,” she said.

“I am focused.”

Her gaze held mine for a long moment, then something subtle changed. Suspicion.

“You are reacting to something,” she said carefully. “And it is not me.”

I released her wrist.

“You are over analyzing.”

“Am I?”

Her voice lowered slightly.

“You chose me, Damon.”

“I did.”

“Then act like it.”

The challenge was quiet but unmistakable, I stepped around her, creating space again.

“You will have your place beside me,” I said. “Do not confuse temporary distance with permanent absence.”

Nyra’s lips pressed thin.

“I will not compete for attention,” she said.

“I would advise you not to.”

The edge in my voice ended the conversation. She left without another word. When the doors closed behind her, the silence returned, I exhaled slowly. Elodie’s face flashed in my mind again. If you touch me again, make sure it is because you choose me. It was the certainty in her voice that unsettled me.

She had not begged, she had not pleaded. She had removed herself, and in doing so, she had shifted the balance. I told myself it was pride that reacted. Nothing more. I was accustomed to being wanted.

To being pursued, to be deferred to. Her detachment disrupted that order; that was all. But as the day wore on, irritation sharpened into something less comfortable. I wanted to see her. Not to touch. Not to indulge.

To assess. To confirm that the distance in her eyes had been temporary, to reestablish structure. That was reasonable. Strategic. It had nothing to do with the quiet, gnawing sensation beneath my ribs.

Nothing to do with the fact that the bond felt… thinner. Unsettled. And nothing to do with the realization that her rejection had done something mine never had.

It had wounded.