Blood-Moon Christmas: The Alpha I Can’t Escape

4. Aeron

The council den smelled of frost and iron, the sharp tang of winter smoke mixing with the earthy musk of wolfblood. The hearth burned low, flickering gold across the carved runes on the walls, but it did little to chase the chill pressing into my bones. I sat at the head of the long, obsidian-carved table, my fingers drumming against the stone as my wolf growled beneath my skin, restless, impatient, demanding.

I had seen her today. Lyra Darkbane. Ten years vanished in an instant, and suddenly she was here again, summoned for the Christmas summit in a week’s time. The bond had stirred the moment I caught sight of her, and every instinct I had spent a decade suppressing snapped taut in my chest. The council knew the truth—or at least, the half they were willing to acknowledge. The mating ritual was the only way to save me, the only way to heal the curse that had been eating me alive. But they also knew the cost: claiming her would destroy her pack. And if I did nothing, I would die.

Aria moved to stand at my side, boots silent on the polished stone floor. Her presence was a tether in the chaos of my mind, a reminder that some things still needed control. “The Frostfang delegation is testing the outer boundaries,” she said softly, her hand brushing the edge of the table. “If you do not act, the summit could fracture before it even begins.”

“I am aware,” I said, jaw tight. My wolf surged beneath my skin, claws scraping at restraint. “The Frostfang cannot see what is real. They see weakness where there is none. They see hesitation where there is calculation. They do not know the bond that threatens me.”

Aria’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You mean Lyra,” she said. Her eyes searched mine for honesty, and I felt the sting of her knowing.

“Yes,” I admitted, voice low. “Lyra Darkbane. Her presence in our territory—her proximity—threatens everything. The bond demands her. I will not allow it to dictate my actions. Not here. Not now.”

She studied me, unflinching. “You cannot deny it forever, Aeron. The summit is a week away. The council sees your faltering strength. They whisper of your mortality, of your instability. You have only days to prove that you are Alpha, that Yulefang stands under your command. Denying her will not hide the truth from them—or from yourself.”

I slammed my fist against the table, frost cracking beneath my fingers. “I am not weak!” I roared. The howl of my wolf surged, answering me with its own frustration and hunger. “I am Alpha of Yulefang. I will protect this pack, even if it costs me my life.”

Aria stepped closer, grounding me. “And yet your life is tied to a choice that could destroy another pack,” she said quietly, voice firm. “If you continue denying the bond, it will consume you. You are on the edge of something dangerous, and the council will see the hesitation as failure. You must act wisely—and soon.”

A murmur ran through the den. The council members had been observing us in silence, their cold eyes sharp and calculating. I could feel their doubt, their judgment, their hunger for power. They believed me weak. They believed that a curse had broken me, that I would crumble beneath the weight of the bond.

High Elder Tharic leaned forward, voice calm but sharp enough to cut through the tension. “Alpha Frostborne,” he said, “the summit draws near. You are aware of the Frostfang movements along our northern borders, yes? Their provocations will escalate if not met with strength. Will Yulefang stand firm, or shall we see the cracks in our leadership?”

I lifted my head, eyes sweeping over the council. “Yulefang stands,” I said, voice steady, though every word cost me. “I will not falter. The Frostfang will not challenge our territory. They will not see weakness where there is none. And the bond you all whisper about will not compromise the pack. I will act when necessary, on my terms.”

Another elder, a Frostfang ally sympathetic to the council’s fears, raised a brow. “And the woman?” he asked, a sly edge to his tone. “Darkbane. She is here for the summit, is she not? The Alpha’s… weakness, some whisper, is tied to her presence. Do you intend to allow this… distraction to compromise your authority?”

The room went silent. Even Aria stiffened, sensing the tension coiling in my wolf. I could feel the hunger, the desperation, the pull of her scent, and I bit down on every instinct to lunge across the table, to claim her, to finally make the bond whole. My jaw tightened. “Lyra Darkbane will not be used as a weapon,” I said, voice low, controlled but dangerous. “She is no distraction. She is under my protection. If the council wishes to test my authority through fear or provocation, they will find that Yulefang’s Alpha stands alone and unbroken.”

Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Some nodded, swayed by my display of control. Others exchanged glances, clearly unconvinced. I felt every doubt, every judgment, every expectation pressing down. My wolf bristled, restless, clawing at the edges of my control.

Aria’s hand pressed lightly against my arm. “You cannot hold them all at bay with words alone,” she said softly. “Strength is not just in denying the bond, Aeron. Strength is in managing the pack, in navigating the council, in keeping them from seeing the cracks in your armor while you prepare for what is coming.”

I exhaled slowly, letting the frost-laden air fill my lungs. My claws retracted slightly as I nodded, acknowledging her counsel, even as the hunger and pull beneath my skin screamed that I was not ready to confront Lyra. “You will help manage the council,” I said, voice low. “Keep the Frostfang in check. Keep the others from sensing my weakness. Keep me from being consumed before the summit begins.”

She inclined her head. “I will do what is needed. But understand this, Aeron: denying the bond may protect the pack for now, but it will not protect you. The pull between you and Lyra is stronger than any command, any prophecy, any threat. The week ahead will test you in ways you are not ready for.”

I tightened my jaw and rose from the table, cloak brushing the frost-polished floor. “Then I will meet that test head-on,” I said, voice low but resolute. “I will protect my people, even if it means keeping her at a distance. Even if it kills me. The bond will not dictate my actions. Not here. Not yet.”

The council murmured again, and I ignored it, stepping out into the cold night. The wind whipped against my face, carrying the scent of snow, pine, and something far more potent—the pull of Lyra Darkbane, dark and sweet and inevitable. My wolf howled beneath my ribs, a raw, primal echo of desire and restraint.

In a week, the Christmas summit would begin. In a week, I would be forced to confront the bond, the prophecy, and the impossible choice that could save me or destroy everything I held dear. But for now, I would do what I had always done. I would hold the line, deny the pull, and keep her safe—even if it meant keeping her out of reach, even from myself.