The Monster’s Claim

Nolan’s POV

Aliyana Hastings thought she hated me. That much was obvious in the fire that burned in her eyes when she told me she would kill me. I had heard those words more times than I could count, but never from lips so soft, never with a voice that trembled as though she almost believed herself capable.

Wanting to kill a man and having the strength to do it were two very different things. Aliyana didn’t yet understand that.

She thought I was a monster. She was not wrong.

I’ve been called worse since I was a boy. Some names carved themselves into your bones until you no longer knew where the insult ended and you began. Monster was one of those names. I embraced it. Monsters survived. Saints bled out in the gutter.

My mother was a bit like her sister. I watched her kindness rot inside her body while my father grew fat on blood and fear. I swore I’d never be like her. I swore I’d never be weak.

And so, I became what the world needed me to be. The nightmare they whispered about when the lights went out.

Marriage into the Hastings family was never my choice. There were easier women, warmer beds. But choice had never been part of my bloodline. My grandfather had forged this union before his bones were dust, and I was not the kind of man who spat on tradition. Bloodlines mattered. Power matters.

The Hastings were valuable because they were more than wolves, they carried the old blood, the dangerous kind. Witches, hybrids that could burn empires to the ground. Pair that with my line of dire wolves, and the result would be an heir powerful enough to command kingdoms. That was the only reason a woman entered my life: not for love, not for companionship, but for legacy.

For pleasure, I had concubines. Women who knew their place, women who didn’t cry when I raised my voice or crushed something delicate in my hands.

Alessia Hastings was meant to be mine. I saw her ten times in my life, and ten times I wondered how a woman could be so beautiful and yet so empty. Skin like porcelain, hair like gold and a soul so fragile I could snap it with a glance. She wept over broken flowers, trembled if my tone sharpened, flinched when I stared too long. A saint. Exactly like my mother. And saints did not last in my world.

When I heard she ran, I didn’t rage. I didn’t chase. I let her go, and felt something close to relief. She’d always been staring at that gardener anyway, the little man with dirt on his hands and hunger in his eyes. She thought herself clever, choosing love over a throne. Let her rot in obscurity.

Her sister, though… Aliyana.

Aliyana was nothing like her. Where Alessia was sunlight, Aliyana was on fire. Darker hair, darker skin, stronger body. Not the polished goddess poets sang about, but the kind of warrior who’d climb into the arena bloodied and grinning. My wolf saw her, and it was over.

Mine.

The word split my skull the moment our eyes met. She stood beside her father, chin high, in a plain gown that did nothing to hide the strength in her frame. She was not fated for me, the moon goddess had not carved her into my destiny. And yet, I wanted her more than I had ever wanted air.

She was not supposed to be mine. So I decided she would be.

Aliyana ran. Of course she did. Not from fear, but to him. The one she thought she loved. The fool she believed could shield her from me. He even thought himself a warrior at the end. A boy swinging steel like love alone could sharpen a blade.

He landed a cut on my arm, a shallow line, nothing more, and the crowd gasped as though he’d toppled a king. For a moment, I saw it in his eyes, hope. The kind of foolish fire that made men believe destiny bent for them.

Pathetic.

I let him have his moment, let him think he’d drawn blood worth celebrating. And then I broke him. His wrists, his guard, his spirit. Every strike of mine shattered that fragile fire until he was on his knees in front of me, choking on his own blood.

That was the difference between us. He fought for love. I fought to claim. And in this world, claim will always win.

I killed him.

Not because I had to. But because I wanted her to see. I wanted her to understand the truth: no one steals what is mine. No man, no god, no goddess. She clung to him like he was salvation, and I tore him from her hands and left his body cooling at her feet.

Her scream still echoed in my ears. Her eyes, wild, burning with hate, were carved into me deeper than any blade could cut. She swore she’d destroy me. She spat curses like weapons.

And I laughed.

“In two days, Aliyana Hastings will walk into my house as my bride. By the time I’m done, she won’t know where I end and she begins. Let’s see who breaks first.”