The Cost of Restraint
1685 Words
Vareks POV
Night had not loosened its grip on the keep.
The torches were dying embers, the halls asleep, yet my mind refused to quiet. Sleep had eluded me entirely. Not for lack of exhaustion, but because every time I closed my eyes, I heard her.
Her uneven breath.
Her choked sobs.
The way her heartbeat stuttered after the dinner—after Bjorn’s threat, after my father’s cruelty, after the truth about her past was thrown before her like scraps.
She had cried in her chambers, alone.
And I had done nothing.
My wolf snarled at me even now for it, pacing the edge of my skull, furious, restless, unhinged. It wanted her near. It wanted her under our protection, under our weight, under our claim. It wanted her marked so thoroughly the entire realm would bow before the bond.
I inhaled slowly, bracing my hands against the cold stone of my room.
She was not ready for that.
Or rather… I was not.
I feared what I would become if I let myself have her. I feared how quickly discipline would crumble. I feared how deeply she had already buried herself inside me.
It was easier, I told myself, to stay away.
A lie.
I grabbed a shirt from the foot of the bed and dragged it over my head, movements sharp. My breathing was unsteady. None of this was acceptable. I had command over armies, over betas, over the will of an entire dominion. And yet one woman—one quiet, stubborn woman—had undone more of me in weeks than my father had managed in centuries.
As I reached for my coat, footsteps whispered down the corridor.
Soft. Bare. Familiar.
Lizzy.
She was awake before dawn. Moving toward the kitchens. Probably seeking warmth, comfort, anything to quiet the dread that had been placed on her shoulders.
My wolf surged upward, a violent burst of instinct.
Go to her. Now.
No.
I stepped into the hallway before my resolve snapped, striding in the opposite direction with more force than necessary. If I found Lizzy in the quiet glow of morning, hair mussed from sleep, eyes tired, voice soft—I would not leave her. I would press her against the nearest wall and give in to the pull that had been tearing me apart since the moment she arrived.
Distance. I needed distance.
The cold was sharp when I reached the courtyard, slicing across my skin with a clarity I desperately needed. The training grounds sat in their usual stillness, long shadows stretching across the stone. The world felt suspended, caught between darkness and the first fragile breath of dawn.
Kai was not here.
Predictable.
He was almost always late unless he had something—or someone—to impress.
A muscle flicked in my jaw at the thought.
The only other presence in the courtyard was Erin.
She noticed me immediately, because she always did. Erin’s hair was braided tight, her posture relaxed in the way only seasoned warriors carried themselves. She stood by the weapons rack, leaning against a staff like she owned the place. Like she belonged at my side.
She did not.
Her eyes crawled over me like an invitation.
“You’re early,” she said, an edge of amusement in her voice. “Not like you.”
“Training begins at dawn.” I kept my tone indifferent. “You know this.”
Erin pushed off the rack and moved toward me, hips swaying with calculated ease. “You haven’t slept.”
I didn’t answer.
She drew closer, too close. “You used to come to me when you couldn’t find peace.”
“I used to be foolish.”
Her smile faltered. “Foolish? That’s what you call it now?”
“That is what it was.”
She studied me, something bitter sparking behind her eyes. “This is about her, then.”
My silence was answer enough.
Erin’s voice softened, the way it used to when she wanted something. “Varek, you and I understood each other. No strings. No weight. You let me in when you needed release. She cannot give you what I did.”
I stepped away from her touch.
“Do not speak of her.”
Erin frowned. “Why not? You think she knows your nature? Your hunger? Your—”
“You will not speak of her.”
Her eyebrows rose. “I didn’t realize your little mate had such sharp claws.”
“She has nothing to do with you.”
“She will fail the Rites,” Erin snapped. “Everyone knows it. Everyone sees it. She is fragile, untrained—”
“Enough.”
The courtyard stilled.
Erin took a breath, but her anger sharpened instead of dimming. “You think she’s worthy of you? She doesn’t even understand what you are. What you need.”
I closed the remaining distance with a calmness that wasn’t calm at all.
“You misunderstand,” I said. “This is not about worth.”
Her lips curled. “Then what? Pity? Obligation? Lust?”
“It is the bond.”
Erin froze.
“And you,” I continued, voice dropping, “were never more than a momentary distraction. A way to silence the instinct without feeding it. A relief. Not a companion.”
Erin’s eyes glistened with something volatile. “You think she’s better than me?”
“Yes,” I said, and her breath hitched.
“She is mine.”
Erin stepped back, throat tight.
Before she could speak, footsteps echoed at the courtyard’s entrance.
Two sets.
Light. Swift.
One heartbeat I would know in any realm.
Lizzy walked into the training grounds, Kai beside her, his expression bright in a way that grated like a stone against bone.
Lizzy looked… breathtaking. Strong. Uneasy. Tired. Determined.
Her training clothes hugged her form, shadows tracing every curve. Strands of her dark hair had slipped free from her tie and fell around her face. Her eyes lifted to me instantly, searching, guarded.
And I hated myself for the flicker of relief I felt at the sight of her.
Kai grinned broadly. “We’re only a little late.”
“You’re always late,” I said.
He shrugged. “She needed food. And quiet. And someone who doesn’t bark commands before sunrise.”
Lizzy’s lips twitched, like she almost smiled. Almost.
The tension in my chest softened—and tightened again just as quickly.
“We begin,” I said. “Now.”
Kai guided her through a warm-up. Slow movements. Controlled breathing. I watched every step she took, every flex of her muscles, every mistake, every improvement. Erin lingered near the rack but kept her gaze on me, simmering with rejection.
Good.
I positioned the traps, triggers, and moving targets. The first phase of training was simple: test her reflexes under pressure. Let her wolf wake within her. Let it learn to answer even when she was afraid.
“Begin,” I ordered.
Lizzy moved.
She dodged the first pendulum. Pivoted under the second. Her body was quick, sharper than yesterday, guided by instinct rather than thought. She stumbled once but caught herself immediately, breath fogging in the chill morning air.
Kai monitored the controls.
I monitored her.
“Again,” I said.
Lizzy pressed on.
Sweat slid down the curve of her throat. Her breaths came faster. Her eyes flashed with defiance and resolve.
The traps increased in speed.
“Again.”
Faster.
“Again.”
Harder.
She stumbled—just a fraction—and my wolf snarled.
But she righted herself, jaw clenched, gaze fixed ahead.
Then the weight arm swung low.
Too low.
A misfire.
I moved before the world understood what had happened.
Lizzy tried to dodge, but the metal edge grazed her arm. The momentum would have crushed her ribs if she hadn’t twisted in time.
I was at her side in a heartbeat.
“What were you doing?” My voice was harsher than I intended—raw, ripped open. “You could have been struck down.”
Lizzy jerked her arm out of my grasp. “I’m fine.”
“You are not.”
Her eyes burned. “Varek, it was a mistake. Training involves mistakes.”
“This one could have broken you.”
“Then let it break me,” she snapped. “Stop acting like fear gives you the right to suffocate me.”
The world stopped.
I stared at her, breath gutted from my lungs.
Fear.
She had seen through me. Through the armor. Through the persona I had held like a second spine for centuries.
And I hated it.
I stepped back, cold flooding my veins. “We are done.”
Kai muttered a curse. Lizzy’s mouth fell open.
“You’re walking away?” she said. “Because I yelled?”
I didn’t answer.
I turned, leaving the courtyard with quick, purposeful strides.
If I stayed, I would pull her into my arms and beg her never to risk herself again.
If I stayed, I would reveal the truth: that nothing in this realm frightened me except losing her.
But as I reached the archway, instinct forced me to glance back.
Kai was already beside her.
He touched her arm gently.
Her breath hitched.
And my heart split down the center.
Kai murmured, “You did well. Don’t let him rattle you.”
Lizzy looked down.
“He shouldn’t shout at me like that,” she whispered.
Kai brushed a strand of hair from her face. “He shouts because he cares too much. Let him cool off.”
Lizzy swallowed, fighting tears.
Kai drew her into a brief, steadying embrace.
My wolf roared.
Mine.
I clenched my fists until blood warmed my palms.
I left before instinct overpowered reason.
Before jealousy turned into violence.
Before I proved every one of my father’s lessons true.
I walked into the shadows of the keep, heart pounding, control slipping inch by inch, and knew one thing with absolute certainty:
I had never been this afraid in my life.
- Writer
