Chapter 17 – THE UNWANTED PULL

The fierce look between Deucalion and me was broken by the Blackridge Luna.

“Enough!”

Her voice cut through the hall. Everyone went silent.

She stepped between us, her eyes moving from Deucalion to me. “This is a pack celebration, not a challenge ground.”

Deucalion’s red eyes remained on mine for another second before slowly returning to normal.

Mine did the same.

I could still feel my wolf moving restlessly inside me. The Luna turned to me. “Malia, go back to your room.”

I almost argued. Then I noticed Lucian standing across the hall.

He was still watching me. His expression had changed. He looked concerned now, not amused.

I nodded once and turned away. As I walked toward the doors, I could feel Deucalion’s eyes following me.

I refused to look back. Outside, the cold night air hit my face.

I walked quickly through the courtyard.

“Malia.” I stopped.

Lucian had followed me.

I turned around.

“Are you all right?” He asked.

“I am fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I said I am.”

He studied me for a moment, then gave a small smile. “I suppose I should let you go.”

“That would be wise.”

He laughed softly. “Then perhaps I will see you again.”

I looked at him. “Perhaps.”

My mood wasn't good that night after the pressure with Deucalion.

He bowed his head politely before turning back toward the hall.

I watched him leave. For some reason, I felt sorry for him. Then I remembered where I was and hurried back to my room.

I had no idea that behind me, Deucalion was still standing near the hall doors, watching the empty path where Lucian had disappeared.

The following days became strange. I noticed it first at breakfast.

Deucalion was already seated when I entered the dining room.

He looked up. His eyes followed me to my chair.

Then he frowned. “You are late.”

I stopped. “Did you need me?”

“No.”

“Then why does it matter?”

He looked away. “It doesn’t.”

I sat down. That should have been the end of it. But when I skipped breakfast the next morning, he noticed.

“Where is Malia?”

A servant looked surprised. “She said she wasn’t hungry.”

Deucalion’s hand stopped halfway to his cup. “She isn’t sick?”

“No, Alpha.”

He said nothing. But for the rest of breakfast, his mood was terrible. I did not know about that.

What I did know was that whenever I entered a room, Deucalion seemed to notice. If I left, his eyes followed.

If someone spoke badly about me, his expression changed. One afternoon, I was walking through the west corridor when I heard two servants talking.

“She shouldn’t be here.”

“She was never meant to be Luna.”

I stopped. Before I could respond, another voice came from behind them.

“Enough.”

Deucalion.

The servants froze. He walked toward them. His face was expressionless, but his voice was cold. “You will not speak about my mate that way.”

My heart stopped. The servants lowered their heads. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Leave.”

They hurried away. I stared at him. He looked at me. Neither of us spoke. Then he walked past me.

I remained there, confused.

Why had he defended me?

He had never cared before.

That evening, my incomplete mark began aching. I pressed my fingers against it. The pain was strange.

Not sharp.

It felt like pressure, as though something inside the mark was waking up.

I went to the window and looked outside.

Across the courtyard, Deucalion stood alone. His hand was pressed against his own neck.

Directly over his mark. Our eyes met. He immediately lowered his hand.

Then he walked away. I frowned. Something was happening.

I just didn’t know what.

Deucalion did.

Or at least, he knew something was wrong.

He hated the way his body reacted whenever Malia was near. His mark ached when she was upset.

His wolf became restless when she left the house.

It was becoming harder to ignore. He had spent weeks convincing himself that Malia was only an unwanted duty.

A marriage forced upon him.

A Luna was chosen because Blackridge needed one strong enough to carry their blood.

Yet his wolf did not seem to agree. That thought angered him.

He stood alone in his study that night, staring at the fire.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered.

His wolf growled inside him.

Deucalion clenched his fists. “She is not Aria, the woman I love.”

The wolf growled again. He closed his eyes.

A knock came at the door.

“Enter.”

Aria stepped inside. She smiled. “You have been avoiding me.”

“I have been busy.”

“With what?”

“Blackridge business.”

She moved closer. “I missed you tonight.”

Deucalion looked at her. Something felt different.

He could not explain it. Aria touched his arm. “You have been distant lately.”

“I have responsibilities.”

Her smile faded. “Is this because of her?”

Deucalion’s expression hardened. “Do not start.”

“You were angry when she spoke to that man.”

“That was because she embarrassed the family.”

“And you defended her.”

He looked away. Aria watched him carefully. She had noticed everything. The way his eyes followed Malia. The way he asked where she was.

The way his mood changed whenever someone spoke against her. She had also noticed the way he touched his mark when Malia was near.

Something had changed. And Aria did not like it.

She stepped back. “Of course,” she said softly.

Deucalion looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

But there was nothing harmless about the look in her eyes.

Later that night, Aria returned to her room and shut the door. She stared at herself in the mirror. Malia had taken everything from her.

Her place.

Her future.

And now, even Deucalion was beginning to look at Malia differently. Aria’s hands curled into fists.

“No.”

She would not allow it. If Malia wanted to remain in Blackridge, she would make sure every day reminded her that she was unwanted.

A slow smile appeared on Aria’s face. She already knew exactly where to begin. And this time, she would not act alone.

The next morning, Deucalion looked toward the corridor.

“She hasn’t come down,” he said.

A servant bowed. “Luna Malia is still in her room.”

“She requested breakfast there.”

He dismissed the servant, but his appetite disappeared. He hated that he cared. Across the house, Aria heard about it from a maid. Her fingers tightened around her cup.

“So he asked about her again?”

“Yes, Miss Aria.”

“Then we need to make him see exactly what she is.”

“What do you mean?”

Aria leaned closer. “I want everyone watching.”

“Malia will learn that Blackridge will never truly be hers.”