Chapter 14
898 Words
Lucian's POV
Sleep refused to come.
Lucian stood by the tall window of his room, the night wind brushing through the open panes and stirring the heavy curtains like restless ghosts. Moonlight cut across his bare chest, and his reflection stared back at him—hard eyes, clenched jaw, every inch the Alpha he was supposed to be. Yet beneath the stoic surface, his blood hummed with a scent he couldn’t forget.
Jasmine and pine.
Soft. Pure. Maddening.
Ragnar growled inside him, low and impatient.
“You’re torturing us both. Go to her.”
Lucian’s fingers flexed at his sides. “Enough.”
“She is ours.”
“She’s a distraction,” Lucian snapped back, though the lie burned on his tongue. “An Alpha doesn’t lose himself over a woman.”
“She’s not just a woman.” Ragnar’s voice rumbled like thunder in his mind. “She’s our mate.”
Lucian turned away sharply, dragging in a breath that felt more like a warning than air. He would not bend. Not now. Not when every step he took was under his father’s watchful eye.
---
By morning, the tension hadn’t eased.
The training field echoed with the sharp clash of wooden staffs as warriors sparred under his command. Lucian stood among them, issuing orders in clipped tones. His patience was a thread ready to snap.
Kade approached, his Beta’s easy grin faltering at Lucian’s expression.
“You look like hell, Alpha,” he muttered. “You’ve been off since yesterday. Something you want to—”
“Focus on the drills,” Lucian cut in, voice cold enough to still the air between them.
Kade blinked, then nodded tightly. He knew better than to push further.
Lucian’s gaze swept over his warriors, but his mind wasn’t there. He saw flashes instead — soft brown eyes filled with hurt, trembling lips that had parted to speak before he’d turned his back on her. Myra.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. The scent of sweat and dust filled the air, but he swore he could still taste her scent beneath it all.
---
Later, he was summoned to his father’s study.
The heavy doors creaked as Lucian entered, and there sat Darius, the former Alpha — a man carved from stone and shadow. His presence filled the room even without a word.
“You’ve been distracted,” Darius said flatly, not bothering with pleasantries. “The Moonfang borders are stable, yet your mind isn’t. I can see it in your eyes.”
Lucian stood rigid. “You taught me never to let the pack see weakness.”
“Then prove it.” Darius leaned back, fingers tapping the desk. “Magnus has extended an offer. His daughter, Vanessa. A union between your packs would strengthen our position.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened until it ached. “You want me to mate for power?”
Darius’s eyes glinted with amusement. “You’re an Alpha. That’s what we do.”
A growl rippled in Lucian’s chest before he could stop it. Ragnar’s presence surged violently.
“She is not ours!” the wolf roared within him. “Myra is!”
Lucian’s control slipped. His eyes flashed gold, voice deepening. “You’d have me betray the bond the Moon chose?”
Darius’s face hardened. “The Moon doesn’t run this pack. I do.”
Silence stretched, sharp as a blade.
Lucian turned away before his wolf could surface completely, nails biting into his palms. He left without another word, his father’s voice echoing after him — a command and a curse all at once.
---
The training grounds emptied by dusk, but Lucian stayed.
He stripped off his shirt and faced a sparring dummy, fists flying in ruthless rhythm. Each strike cracked through the air like thunder — his rage, his confusion, his denial bleeding through every blow.
Kade appeared again, hesitant. “Lucian—”
“Leave me,” he growled.
But Kade didn’t move. “You’re losing control.”
Lucian’s head snapped up, golden light flickering in his eyes. The Beta froze under the sheer weight of his Alpha’s aura.
“I said leave,” Lucian repeated, voice low and dangerous.
Kade obeyed.
---
Night settled, heavy and cold.
Lucian stood at the edge of the forest, gaze fixed toward the distant hills where the Silvermist borders lay. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. And then, faintly — as if from somewhere deep within — he felt her.
A flicker of emotion.
Sadness. Hurt. Longing.
It wasn’t his. It was hers.
Ragnar stirred softly now, no longer defiant. “She aches for us,” he murmured.
Lucian’s throat tightened. The bond tugged at him like invisible chains, drawing him closer to the edge of reason. He closed his eyes, fighting the ache in his chest.
“Myra…” he whispered, the name breaking past his control.
The wind carried her scent to him — faint, but enough to unravel everything he’d tried to hold together.
He pressed a hand against the nearest tree, muscles trembling, the Alpha mask finally cracking. “Stay away from me,” he whispered, voice rough with something close to pain. “Before I can’t anymore.”
The forest gave no answer, only the sound of wind through the leaves — like the echo of her heartbeat he couldn’t forget.
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