Held, But Not Chosen

Rian’s POV

A groan slipped past my lips as blinding sunlight spilled into the room, striking my face with unforgiving warmth. I blinked against the harsh rays, my body stiff and sore, every muscle aching like I’d been run over by a car. But the worst of it by far was the harsh sting on my back. It throbbed with every breath, sharp and angry beneath the bandages Elira had wrapped around me last night. The pain was a cruel reminder of everything that had happened.

I shifted gingerly, sitting upright with a wince, and everything that happened last night with Darius came rushing back

**LAST NIGHT**

He stared at me in confusion his face unreadable.

“Rejection?” he had asked, his voice low and unreadable.

I nodded slowly, not bothering to hide the tremble in my limbs. “You hate me,” I had said, my voice breaking. “And I’m ready to be rejected again. It’s not the first time.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating until he growled.

A low, threatening sound that rumbled through the air and made my heart skip in fear. I’d shifted back instinctively, muscles tensing, expecting pain.

His eyes had narrowed, filled with something I couldn’t name.

“You had a mate before?” he asked.

I nodded again, even though every memory of it felt like swallowing broken glass.

“I’m not rejecting you, Rian,” he said at last, his tone colder than it had any right to be. “But I’m not claiming you either.”

His words had hit harder than any blow. I remember scoffing bitterly, the weight of them sinking deep into my chest.

“So I’ll just be here… what? Existing?” I whispered more to myself than to him. “It’s better not to have a mate at all than to be kept in chamber.”

I thought that would be the end of it, that he’d walk away and leave me here in silence. But instead, he stepped closer.

“Nora won’t hurt you again,” he said firmly. “I’ll assign a guard to you. One who will follow you at all times.”

The mention of Nora made my stomach churn. Her face, twisted in envy and hatred, flashed through my mind. Her claws, her voice, her cruelty it was burned into my memory.

“Is it because of her you’re not claiming me” I asked

“ No”

“Rest well,” he said shortly, patting my shoulder in a gesture that felt awkwardly out of place. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

I stared at the door long after he left, the pressure of his hand still lingering on my shoulder like a brand.

“That bastard,” I growled under my breath, the fury bubbling up once more.

*NOW*

The memory made my chest tighten as I pushed the blankets aside. The pain in my back flared when I moved, and I bit back a cry. Elira’s healing herbs had dulled the worst of it, but nothing could numb the emotional wreckage. The sense of worthlessness. Of being unwanted—again.

How many times was I supposed to endure this?

First, my family had cast me aside, disgusted by my weakness. Then my first mate had rejected me with a sneer, claiming I was too fragile, too omega. And now Darius the Hellhound King himself was toying with me in his own cruel way. Not claiming me. Not rejecting me. Just… keeping me here.

Like a caged animal.

I slid off the bed slowly, my bare feet hitting the cold stone floor. I needed air. Space. Anything to clear my head before I drowned in it.

I limped toward the mirror and winced when I caught sight of myself. My face was pale and swollen , my eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion and unshed tears. I turned slightly to inspect my back, and even through the bandages, I could see the angry outlines of the wounds beneath. Nora had gone too far this time. And yet, she walked freely yesterday while I bled on the floor.

Darius promise echoed in my head: “Nora won’t hurt you again.”

But could I believe that? Could I trust anything that came out of his mouth?

I didn’t understand him. One minute, he was growling at me like I was a threat. The next, he was patching me up and giving orders to protect me. He touched me like I was something fragile but spoke to me like I was a burden. He burned hot and cold in a way that made my head spin.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was that deep down, some part of me a small, foolish piece wanted to believe him… to stay

Wanted to believe he cared, even just a little.

I hated that part of me.

The soft knock on the door startled me, and I turned sharply, wincing at the movement.

“Who is it?” I asked warily.

“It’s Elira,” came the gentle reply. “I’ve brought more cream for your wounds.”

I opened the door and let her in. She gave me a kind smile, her eyes filled with concern as she ushered me to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You should be resting, not walking around,” she whispered softly, peeling back the bandages with careful fingers. “You’re lucky those whip didn’t go deeper.”

“Lucky,” I muttered bitterly. “Right.”

She glanced up at me. “The King was furious yesterday.”

My heart skipped. “He was?”

Elira nodded as she applied the cool salve. “ I heard he gave orders for her to be whipped ten times last night”

I should’ve felt happy. Relieved. Something. But all I felt was… empty.

“Why does he keep me here?” I asked suddenly. “He doesn’t want me. He won’t reject me. What does he gain from this?”

Elira hesitated. “Maybe he’s trying to figure that out for himself.”

“That’s not good enough,” I whispered.

Because while he figured things out, I was the one left bruised and broken—physically, emotionally, and in every way that mattered.

I closed my eyes as Elira worked in silence, the sting of the ointment oddly soothing.

“I want to leave,” I murmured. “I don’t belong here.”

She paused but said nothing. We both knew I couldn’t leave. Not really. Not until he allowed it.

And for whatever reason, he wouldn’t let me go.

When she was done, she helped me lie back down and gave me a few instructions before heading to the door.

“Try to rest,” she said. “You’ll heal faster that way.”

I nodded but didn’t promise. Because rest would not come easy not with Lucian’s shadow stretching across my every thought.

As the door closed behind her, I stared at the ceiling, heart aching.

Trapped between rejection and acceptance, between pain and longing.

And somewhere in that space, I was slowly unraveling.