Under His Claim
844 Words
Lyra learned very quickly that Bloodmoon Pack did not operate like Moonfall.
There were no soft voices here. No false smiles or polite lies. The wolves who passed her in the halls carried themselves with lethal calm, their gazes sharp and assessing. They did not pity her.
They felt her.
And that terrified her more than rejection ever had.
Alpha Alaric walked ahead of her through the stone corridors, his long strides unhurried, confident. He did not look back to check if she followed.
He didn’t need to.
Her body reacted to him like gravity—each step drawing her closer, her wolf pacing restlessly beneath her skin. The pain of the broken bond still lingered, a dull ache in her chest, but something else layered over it now.
Awareness.
Heat.
“You’re staring,” Alaric said calmly.
Lyra snapped her gaze away, heat flooding her cheeks. “I wasn’t.”
A low, knowing hum left his throat. “You were.”
He stopped suddenly, turning to face her. Lyra nearly collided with his chest, catching herself at the last second. Too close. Far too close.
Up close, he was overwhelming.
Power rolled off him in waves—controlled, coiled, dangerous. His scent wrapped around her, dark and intoxicating, sending a shiver through her spine that had nothing to do with fear.
“You don’t lower your eyes here,” Alaric said quietly. “Not unless you choose to.”
Her pulse stuttered. “I don’t belong to you.”
“No,” he agreed. “But you’re in my territory. And every wolf here feels what you are.”
“And what’s that?” she challenged.
His gaze dropped briefly—to her throat, her collarbone, the steady rise and fall of her chest. When his eyes lifted again, they burned.
“Unclaimed,” he said. “And unbroken.”
Her wolf surged, reacting sharply to his tone. Lyra clenched her fists. “That’s none of your concern.”
Alaric stepped closer, invading her space without touching her. “Everything in my territory is my concern.”
The air thickened between them, tension snapping like a live wire.
“You were rejected,” he continued, voice low. “Publicly. Cruelly. And yet your wolf did not collapse.”
Lyra swallowed hard. “She didn’t have a choice.”
“No,” he said softly. “She chose to survive.”
Something about the way he said it—like survival was a weapon—sent a tremor through her.
Alaric straightened. “You’ll stay here. Under my protection.”
“I didn’t ask for protection.”
“No,” he repeated. “But you need it.”
Her temper flared. “From who? Darius already got what he wanted.”
At the sound of the name, the temperature in the hall seemed to drop.
Alaric’s jaw tightened. His eyes darkened in a way that made Lyra’s wolf press forward, alert.
“He rejected you,” Alaric said slowly. “That does not mean he relinquished his interest.”
Lyra’s stomach twisted. “He doesn’t get to want me now.”
“No,” Alaric agreed, voice hardening. “He doesn’t.”
The finality in his tone sent a shiver down her spine.
That night, Lyra couldn’t sleep.
She lay awake in the unfamiliar bed, every sound amplified. Her wolf paced restlessly, senses stretched thin. She could feel the pack—dozens of wolves moving through the territory, their awareness brushing against hers like curious fingers.
And beneath it all—
Him.
Alpha Alaric’s presence was a constant pressure, steady and undeniable. It made her skin warm. Sensitive.
A knock sounded at her door.
Her heart leapt.
“Come in,” she called, hating how breathless she sounded.
Alaric entered without ceremony, eyes sweeping the room before landing on her. She was acutely aware she wore only a thin sleep dress, the fabric clinging to her curves.
His gaze lingered.
“Does it bother you?” he asked.
Her voice caught. “Does what bother me?”
“That I can feel you,” he said.
Her breath hitched. “You can?”
“Yes.”
The word dropped heavy between them.
“You’re not bonded,” he continued. “But your emotions bleed into the territory. Your pain. Your anger.”
“And my body?” she asked before she could stop herself.
His eyes burned. “Especially that.”
Silence stretched. Charged. Dangerous.
Alaric took a step closer. “I will not touch what isn’t mine,” he said, voice roughening. “But understand this, Lyra—every Alpha here feels the shift you’re causing.”
Her pulse thundered. “And you?”
“I feel it most.”
He stopped beside the bed, close enough that she could feel his heat. He did not touch her. That restraint was somehow worse.
“Sleep,” he ordered quietly. “You’re safe here.”
As he turned to leave, Lyra realized something terrifying.
For the first time since her rejection, she believed him.
- Writer
