Fated to the Grumpy Beta

Chapter One:

༺ ELARA ༻

Alright, I don’t think you know how exactly I got myself thoroughly ruined in the dark. Let me tell you.

The North was in a state of celebration for an entire week due to the birth of the royal heirs—Alpha Varul and Luna Sigrun’s newborn twins. I spent the last six days of the feast watching Darren from across the Great Hall of Pillak Towers, my eyes searching for him every single time he entered a room. And if you saw him yourself, you’d understand why.

Darren had it all: sandy hair, piercing grey eyes, full lips that inspired filthy thoughts unfit for a lady, and a god-like build that gave me wicked dreams that kept me awake in the middle of the night.

But every time I had tried to talk to him over the past few months, it ended in disaster. My mouth would ramble endlessly about useless theories and facts—things normal people didn't care about, especially not a hardened commander whose attention I was desperate to win.

For the most part, Darren treated me like a brick wall. He answered in blunt, one-word grunts or ignored me entirely before walking away. I was convinced he couldn't stand the sight of me. Still, my heart refused to give up on him.

I thought I finally stood a chance six months ago when I helped my uncle Orasmus tend to Darren and his poisoned soldiers while they were in hiding from the usurper, Lord Krev.

I was wrong. Even after that, Darren remained an impenetrable wall of ice, giving me curt nods—or nothing at all—whenever our paths crossed.

I thought I was sick of it. Sick of longing for a male who clearly didn't want me.

Until tonight.

The sensory overload of the feast had finally become unbearable. I needed to escape into the courtyard to breathe. The booming drums, the wild cheers and howls of thousands of wolves, and the overwhelming scent of food were suffocating my brain. Loud noises and intense smells always did that to me.

Sigrun once told me she thought I had something called ADHD, a condition from her home world. I hadn't understood it then, but in moments like this—when the world was too loud, too bright, and moving too fast—it made complete sense.

So I retreated into the quiet shadows beneath the vaulted stone arches for a break. It was a secluded spot I’d discovered earlier in the week, and my plan was simple: get a few moments of silence, then head back inside.

Instead, I found him.

Darren was crouching in the dark, repeatedly slamming his back against the stone pillar as if fighting to suppress a war inside his own body.

When his head snapped up and his eyes met mine, my heart nearly stopped. They were glowing a ferocious, feral crimson.

Panic and concern for him instantly flattened my common sense. I took a step closer, seeing him drenched in sweat despite the freezing air, his chest heaving violently. Heavy, muted cracks echoed as the bones in his shoulders shifted, popped, and retracted over and over as he fought to keep control.

My brain chatter-spiraled into overdrive. "Darren? Oh sweet gods, are you injured? Is it poison? Your spine—is something breaking? Do you need me to fetch someone or—"

"Get back inside, Elara," he commanded with a deep growl that didn’t sound human. "Walk away. NOW."

I should have listened. I should have turned on my heel and run back to the safety of the castle. But he had called me Elara—not the cold, formal Lady Thompson he always used.

Elara.

Hearing my name on his lips for the first time sent a visceral shiver down my spine.

Ignoring every instinct of self-preservation, I took another step forward, reaching out a hand toward his shoulder. “Darren, let me help—“

In the blink of an eye, I was lifted off my feet and slammed roughly back against the stone pillar. The impact sent my glasses flying off my face, clattering into the dark courtyard floor.

The world instantly dissolved into a useless, blurry smear of shadows and flickering torchlight.

Darren hissed against my lips, his voice carrying the terrifying growl of his wolf pushing to the surface.

“I told you to run, Birdie.”