Chapter Three:

༺ DARREN ༻

Fu.ck.

Fu.ck, fu.ck, fu.ck!

What in the blasted seven hells have I just done?

The heavy doors of the castle’s eastern wing swung shut behind me with a thud.

The guards on duty bowed their heads in greeting as I walked past, but I ignored them. Down the long, vaulted corridor, the faint, thunderous sounds of celebration echoed from the Great Hall.

I knew I should return to my post at the Alpha’s side. To my duty.

But my boots felt as if they were bolted into the flagstones.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t fu.ck.ing breathe.

I found an empty alcove and leaned back hard against the stone wall, dragging a hand down my face.

I had known the rut was coming. It had been creeping through my veins all evening, threatening to breach my ironclad focus in the middle of the feast. That was why I’d slipped away and walked out into the lower courtyard.

I would endure the fever in isolation, the way I mostly did.

I was going to grit my teeth and hold back my beast, well out of sight.

I was a commander. A Beta to the Alpha of Alphas. Discipline and control were what kept me alive, what kept my men alive, and what kept Pillak Towers running.

I didn’t lose my mind or break protocol.

I was a weapon forged for the North, unbothered by temptation.

Until her.

Fu.ck.ing hell.

I closed my eyes and threw my head back against the wall, my chest heaving beneath my leather tunic as if I’d just run ten miles through a mountain blizzard.

Closing my eyes was a mistake.

The moment I did, all I saw, heard, and felt was her.

Her soft, delicate skin. Her breathless, whimpering gasps. The way her tight, warm body had yielded beneath the brutal pace I’d set until she was crying out my name, trembling, sobbing, and clinging to my shoulders.

The sweet, pure scent of her—winter snow mixed with honey—was practically painted onto my hands, my chest, my clothes. It wrapped around my senses like iron chains, suffocating me, driving my wolf to flex its claws in possessive triumph.

“Mine,” Slate growled beneath my skin. “She belongs to us. Go back. Claim her properly. We shouldn’t have walked away from her, you fool.”

“Shut up,” I snarled under my breath.

I slammed my fist against the stone wall to dull the roaring blood in my ears, but it didn’t work.

Mark her?

No. I wouldn’t do that to her.

But by the gods, I had almost done it.

The blood drained from my face as I remembered.

My teeth had practically grazed the soft, sensitive skin of her neck, inches from sinking in—inches from tying her soul to mine forever.

Terror pressed into my chest, dragging an old memory to the surface.

The one person I hadn’t been strong enough to protect.

I shoved the memory away.

Thank the gods I hadn’t marked Elara.

No, I hadn’t.

But I’d hurt her.

She had trusted me enough to come closer despite my warning, and I had repaid that trust by taking her like a beast.

“Bastard,” I muttered into the empty corridor, my voice dripping with self-loathing. “You Fu.ck.ing bastard.”

A sudden shift in the shadows down the far hallway made my head snap up, every sensory instinct going on immediate high alert.

Soft, hurried footsteps were heading down the adjacent corridor.

My wolf perked up instantly, catching her scent.

Elara.

She was slightly limping, clutching the front of her dress. Her head was bowed low, her thick red curls wild.

But what killed me was the sound of the sobs she was fighting to suppress.

They tore through my chest far deeper than any blade I’d ever felt.

I was hit with a sudden, fierce urge to cross the distance, sweep her up into my arms, tuck her into my chest, and comfort her.

I actually took a step forward from the shadows, but halted at the last second.

“DO IT!” Slate barked impatiently.

But I couldn’t. I hung back in the shadows like a coward, ashamed of what I’d done to her. She was limping, for fucksake.

I held my breath, clenching my fists so tightly my knuckles cracked.

I watched her small form slip past the far end of the hallway until she disappeared around the dark corner.

Only then did I breathe again.

I had spent months keeping my distance from Elara Thompson.

I had intentionally built a wall around myself whenever she was near.

I had told myself her endless, rambling, nerdy facts were annoying.

They weren’t.

I’d memorized half of them without meaning to.

I knew which subjects made her eyes light up. I knew she talked faster when she was excited and started throwing random facts into conversations whenever she was nervous.

I knew all of it because I had been watching her far more closely than I had any right to.

I had forced myself to treat her like just another guest at the castle because I’d always suspected that she could easily become my very downfall.

And in one single night of weakness, I had proven every single one of my fears right.

One taste of her was not enough.

Even now, I was trembling with the sheer need to feel her soft body wrap around me again, to hear those sweet little sounds she made while I—

Fuck.

I was harder than a rock.

‘Temporary lapse in judgment.’

I scoffed, mocking myself for that laughable lie.

I’d heard the hopefulness in her voice when she’d asked me out for tea, looking at me with that hopeful expression like tomorrow could exist between us.

And I’d panicked.

Because I couldn’t let tomorrow exist.

Gods.

Not for her.

Not when I knew what being mine could cost her.

So I had given her cruelty—the only thing I knew would keep her safe.

I’d made sure she understood that tonight meant nothing. That I wanted nothing. That she should stay the hell away from me.

I Fu.ck.ing hated myself for it.

But if hurting her now kept her from getting hurt worse later, then I would live with her hatred.

I had to.

So why in the seven hells did it feel like, by pushing her away, I had just destroyed myself?