Chapter 10. Duty and Desire
1002 Words
Dominic
“You must let me show you the garden,” she said, stepping closer, voice low and inviting. “It’s the onlyplace here worth enjoying.”
I studied her for a moment, the faintest smirk touching my lips. “Perhaps another time,“ I replied, voice cool, eyes sharp.
Melina’s smile faltered, but she quickly masked it. “You’re as elusive as ever, Alpha here.”
I shrugged, stepping away. “I have little patience for distractions.”
Melina wasn’t the only one; throughout the evening, women tried to draw me in with flirtations veiled in conversation, hands brushing against my arm, and lingering looks.
I met each with the same icy detachment. No smile. No warmth.
Only a measured distance that sent the hopeful retreating.
“Why is it so cold tonight?” A voice whispered grimly behind me.
I turned sharply; it was Jaren. One of my oldest friends and a skilled tracker, known for his blunt honesty
“Cold?” I repeated, arching an eyebrow.
Jaren chuckled. “You wear that distant look like armour, Dom. What’s eating you?”
I sighed, running a hand through my dark hair, “nothing that concerns you.”
He didn’t press further, but the concern lingered in his eyes.
Later, as the gathering moved toward the dining hall. I found myself seated beside Liora, a sharp-tongued diplomat known for her wit and candour.
She studied me quietly before asking, “Is it true? You’ve been avoiding the usual gatherings? The pack is buzzing with rumours.”
I met her gaze evenly. “Rumours are the currency of weak minds.”
Liora smirked. “So, what are you buying with your silence?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if challenging me to reveal more.
I didn’t.
After the meal, I excused myself and walked out onto the balcony overlooking the estate’s sprawling gardens. The night air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the stifling walls inside.
Below, the lantern glowed like scattered stars, illuminating paths winding through dark hedges and ancient trees.
I leaned on the stone railing, hands gripping the cold edge, thoughts spiralling inward.
The mask I wore, the indifference, the untouchable air, felt heavier with every passing day.
My phone buzzed with encrypted messages from Marek, my captain.
Increased rogue activity near the eastern border. Recommend patrol intensification.
I typed back swiftly, Understood. Increase patrols immediately.
Duty was a constant reminder, a chain I could not break.
A sudden movement caught my eyes, a shadow darting between trees below. Instinct sharpened, and I straightened.
Could it be her? That thought flared, quickly smothered by reason.
No. That was a foolish hope.
Returning inside, I found Jaren waiting for me in the hall.
“Need someone to remind you you’re still alive?” He teased, though his eyes were serious.
“Alive enough,” I replied.
He studied me for a moment. “You know, shutting yourself off won’t protect you. It’ll make you colder.”
“I don’t need protection.”
“Maybe not,” he said quietly. “But the Pack does. And so do those who care about you.”
I gave no answer.
In the days that followed, I immersed myself in the relentless grind of leadership preparation.
Meetings stacked on meetings, strategic discussions, resource allocations, and diplomatic overtures.
Each required the same composed exterior.
Inside, I felt increasingly hollow.
During a session with several minor nobles, I listened as they debated land disputes and trade agreements.
One noblewoman, Lady Sariel, a sharp-eyed woman of ambition, leaned forward and said, “The heir must show strength. Doubt spreads quickly, and weakness invites chaos.”
I met her gaze directly. “Strength is not allowed out loud.” I said evenly. “Sometimes it’s the silence between words.”
Her lips tightened, but she nodded.
At another event. At a charity gala, I was approached by Isolde, a young woman from a prominent family.
Her smile was bright, eyes filled with hopeful curiosity.
“You rarely attend these,” she remarked softly. “Is everything alright?”
I shrugged. “I attend when necessary.”
She pressed gently. “You can be more than the cold heir, Dominic.”
I studied her. Considering.
“Warmth can be a liability.” I replied at last.
Her smile faltered, but she didn’t fade.
Despite the coolness I projected, there were moments I caught glimpses of something I could no longer deny, a loneliness that gnawed at the surface.
One evening as I prepared for another official function, Marek entered my chambers.
“Alpha, a patrol report,” he said, handing me a folded paper.
I scanned it quickly.
“Rogue activity is intensifying,” I murmured. “We’ll need to increase forces on the eastern border.”
Marek nodded, eyes steady. “The pack needs you sharp.”
I looked up, meeting his gaze. “I’ll do what I must.”
The facade was holding.
But the cold was rising.
Later in the quiet moment before sleep, I lay awake staring at the ceiling.
The echo. I was a man fractured between duty and desire.
A leader forged in ice, haunted by a flame I could not touch.
So I embraced the cold. Because that was all I had left.
The storm outside didn’t compare to the one inside my father’s war room. Tension cracked in the air, so thick it could be sliced with claws. I sat at the end of the long table, arms crossed, brows locked in a permanent scowl.
“You’ll find a mate before the submit,” my father said coldly. “Or you’ll forfeit your right to lead this pack.”
The words settled between us like a curse.
I clenched my jaw. “You’d hand the title to another because I won’t let some power-hungry she-wolf crawl into my bed?”
“I’d rather hand it to a loyal fool than a selfish son who lets emotions dictate duty.”
- Writer
