Chapter 4: Defiance

DRAKE’S POV

"Master Drake, your father is expecting you in the study."

The butler's voice echoed through the entrance hall of the Dawson estate. I rolled my shoulders back, straightened my posture, and walked towards the wooden doors, pushing them open.

As usual, my father sat behind his massive desk, buried beneath stacks of reports and ledgers. His reading glasses sat low on his sharp nose, his dark hair streaked with silver and his features were set in a hard, stern expression.

I stopped several feet from his desk. "You wanted to see me, Father."

He didn't look up immediately. He finished scratching his signature onto a parchment before his grey, cold eyes met mine.

"Where did you disappear to after the ceremony?" he asked, his voice deep and even. "I had the regional university board members waiting by. It was time to introduce you properly as a potential candidate."

"I had something to tend to," I replied, keeping my tone flat.

He let out a dry, humorless chuckle, looking back down at his papers. "What could possibly be more important than securing your future?"

He shook his head slowly, leaning back in his leather chair. "You continue to be a profound disappointment, Drake. You couldn't even secure the top academic ranking. Tell me, how do you expect to lead this pack and command the respect of the elders when you let an omega girl beat you out for valedictorian?"

The insult picked at my nerves.

I fought the urge to talk back, biting down on my lower lip until I thought I might draw blood. My fists clenched tightly to the side, my knuckles ached from it.

"Right now, you are proving unworthy of your title as Alpha heir," he continued. "In fact, I'd say the Byrne girl is a more suitable fit. Maybe I should bring it up to the council, see if she can take your standing as the next Alpha of this pack."

My jaw tensed at his harsh words.

Chloe?

That omega beggar? Take my place as Alpha heir?

My father comparing me to her wasn't anything new. He had done it so many times that I'd learned to bite my tongue and let most of his insults slide.

But this?

Even suggesting that she could be worthy of my title was going too far.

"Chloe Byrne is an omega beggar," I finally said through gritted teeth, trying my best to contain my rage. "She might win all the awards she wants but it doesn't change that she has no status, no power, and no place here."

My father shot me a dark glare, his eyes narrowed at me. "Watch your tone, boy. The Alpha title isn’t simply inherited. It is earned. If you continue behaving like a foolish child, you’ll never rule. You’ll spend the rest of your life as nothing more than an heir.”

I wanted to argue back, to tear his desk apart, but I swallowed the rage down, my throat burning.

My father held my gaze for another brutal second before turning dismissively back to his paperwork.

"Be in my study at eight tomorrow morning," he said. "We are settling the matter of your future Luna before the university term begins."

"There is nothing to settle. Prisca is my choice."

His eyes lifted to mine again. "That may not be your choice to make."

My wolf slammed against my ribs at once, filling my head with Chloe's scent.

I forced the thought of her away, refusing to let her invade my mind again. Prisca was my choice, not her.

My father held my gaze for another moment before he finally said dismissively, “Now, get out of my sight.”

I didn't waste a second getting the hell out of his study. I walked towards my room across the other wing, my blood boiling.

I can't believe he's my father. What kind of father says such harsh things to his own son over and over again.

Whatever.

He can go fuck himself for all I care. That Alpha title is my birthright. It's mine no matter how much he tries to belittle me.

I got into my room, pulled out my phone to text my guys to meet up at the club tonight, and in a matter of minutes, I was dressed and ready, pulling up to the club.

The neon pink sign that read 'The Velvet Siren' buzzed loudly against the dark, gritty street. I slammed the door of my SUV as I approached the entrance.

Julian and Marcus were standing nearby, laughing loudly. The second Julian spotted me, he grinned and jogged over, raising his arms for a hug.

I walked right past him without a word. My jaw was locked tight as I stormed toward the doors.

Julian blinked and looked at Marcus. They hurried to catch up. "Whoa, hold on, man. What's wrong?" Marcus asked, matching my steps. "What's got you in such a dark mood?"

"Nothing," I barked, not bothering to slow down. "I'm just here to get fucking wasted and forget the day."

Julian whistled, a grin spreading across his face. "Say less. We're in."

We shoved past the bouncer, the doors swinging open to a wall of thumping bass, flashing lights, and the choking scent of alcohol and sweat.

We bypassed the crowded main floor, heading straight up the private VIP stairs to our usual booth overlooking the stage.

The alcohol arrived within minutes. Shots of burning whiskey, back-to-back, swallowed straight down.

I poured another, needing the numbness, needing the alcohol to blur the sharp edges of my father's words and the suffocating pressure burning through my veins.

But it wasn't working.

The liquor hit my stomach, but it did nothing to subdue my wolf's voice and his impulsive urges.

Mine, the beast clawed at the back of my mind. Let’s find Mate. We need to touch her. Claim her.

I gritted my teeth, gripping the edge of my seat hard, trying to force the voice back down into the dark.

The stupid mate bond is at it again. The conversation with my father and the anger that came from it served as a bit of a distraction then, but now… it's back on.

My senses felt hyper-sensitive and my blood ran hot, but the most agonizing was the persistent ache between my thighs.

I looked over to see I was as hard as a rock, my dick begging to be shown attention.

Across the booth, Julian and Marcus were already laughing loudly, talking over the music, completely oblivious to the fact that I was ready to crawl out of my own skin.

A couple minutes later, a dancer leaned over the back of the booth and ran a hand across my shoulder. I turned toward her, determined to prove my body could respond to someone who was not Chloe.

The moment her perfume filled my nose, my wolf recoiled. My stomach twisted, and I shoved her hand away.

"Not her," I snapped.

Julian laughed, but I ignored him. It was the perfume, I told myself. Nothing more.

When the club manager eventually came by to check on us, she greeted us with a familiar smile. We were regular VIPs at the club, so she knew us well.

I motioned for her to come closer, and once she was just inches away from me, I gave her a single, low command: "Prepare my private room."

She nodded, understanding exactly what I meant.

After a few minutes and without a word of goodbye to the guys, I stood up from the booth, and cut through the VIP hallway to my private room.

The moment the door shut behind me, I couldn't help but question myself.

What the hell am I doing?

I shouldn't be here trying to sweat out the mate bond by fucking some random club girl. I should be fighting this.

I had Prisca—sweet, delicate Prisca, who's meant to be my Luna. But I wouldn't dare hurt her. She's too fragile, unstable… I don't want to cause more harm to her already ill body just to satisfy my urges.

It was better to get this over with using someone who understood it meant nothing.

If I could satisfy the physical need once, maybe the bond would loosen its grip. Then I could reject Chloe tomorrow and go back to the future I had already chosen.

I was not choosing another woman over Prisca. I was proving the Moon Goddess could not control me. At least, that was what I told myself.

Right now, my body was rebelling against me. I needed to get laid or I'm going to end up losing my mind.

As if on cue, a sharp, frantic knock echoed from behind the wooden door.

Must be the manager sending someone up.

I muttered curse words under my breath as I walked straight for the doorknob. I pulled open the door, ready to pull in whoever, to finally relieve myself, when suddenly, my gaze met a familiar set of deep brown eyes.

Standing in the dim hallway light, trembling violently, was Chloe.

She wore a silver-studded bra and matching underwear, her skin pale and clammy under the harsh lights.

Her long dark hair was completely disheveled, plastered against her damp neck, and her eyes were wide and swimming with panic.

She looked up at me, her chest heaving as a sob broke through her lips.

"Please," she choked out, her voice cracking as she clutched desperately at my doorway, tears spilling over her lashes. "Please… let me in."