Chapter 17
677 Words
Elvis did not slow down until he reached his chambers.
The doors closed behind him with a sharp sound, echoing through the quiet space. He dragged a hand through his hair and let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Annoyance burned in his chest.
The elders. Their words. Their judgment. Their cold way of speaking about Irene as if she were nothing more than a problem to be solved.
His wolf growled softly inside him, restless and angry.
“They went too far,” Elvis muttered.
And yet…
As much as he hated to admit it, a part of him knew they weren’t entirely wrong.
The throne would not wait forever.
The pack needed a Luna. They needed stability, leadership, a visible future. And right now, everything felt uncertain.
He paced the room slowly, hands clasped behind his back.
Three weeks, he thought bitterly.
Three weeks to win her heart. Three weeks to prove something even he wasn’t sure how to prove.
His steps slowed.
Winning her heart meant more than gestures. More than words. It meant trust. And trust could not be forced.
That was the problem.
He stopped by the window, staring out at the pack grounds below. Wolves moved about their day, unaware of the weight pressing down on him. To them, he was the future Alpha, strong, confident, unshaken.
They did not see the conflict tearing at him from the inside.
I can’t rush her, he thought firmly.
Every instinct in him rejected the idea of pushing Irene into something she wasn’t ready for. He wanted her acceptance to be real. Willing. Chosen.
Not something taken from her because she felt trapped.
He clenched his jaw.
And yet, doing nothing was not an option either.
The whispers were growing louder. He had heard them himself. He had seen the looks. He could feel the tension in the pack like a storm waiting to break.
If he waited too long, they would turn their frustration on her even more.
The thought made his chest tighten.
He turned away from the window and sat heavily on the edge of his bed. His elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward, staring at the floor.
What am I supposed to do?
He replayed their first conversation over and over in his mind. Her nervous laughter. Her flushed face. The way she had looked at him like she expected him to be cruel and the relief in her eyes when he wasn’t.
She was scared.
Not of him, exactly, but of everything surrounding him. The title. The bond. The expectations.
He sighed quietly.
“Think,” he told himself.
But every path he considered felt wrong.
If he approached her too often, she might feel pressured. If he stayed away, she might think he didn’t care. If he defended her too loudly, the pack might resent her more. If he stayed silent, the whispers would grow.
There was no clear solution.
Only choices that all carried consequences.
His wolf nudged him from inside, restless but not demanding. It did not urge him to claim. It urged him to protect.
That, at least, felt right.
“I’ll protect her,” Elvis murmured.
Even if she never accepted him.
The thought hurt more than he expected.
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling, brooding over the same questions again and again. Hours passed like this thinking, pacing, stopping, starting over but clarity never came.
Only the same truth remained.
He wanted her to choose him.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of the crown.
But because she wanted to.
And until that happened or until the three weeks ran out, he was trapped between duty and patience, between the Alpha he was raised to be and the mate he wanted to be.
Elvis closed his eyes, exhaustion settling deep in his bones.
The throne won’t wait, he admitted silently.
But neither would his heart accept a lie.
And so he wait even if he had no clear plan.
He had faith h.
- Writer
