The skin beneath my clothes itched, an invisible bond tightening, vibrating somewhere deep in my chest. The air in the hall, heavy and stale, could not drown out this irritation. Hatred simmered, rising up, burning my throat.
"Rain!"
My voice pierced the silence, rough as a fang. The apprentice, fumbling with weapons by the wall, jerked. His eyes, usually dull, rounded.
"Get ready."
I didn't wait for an answer. I shed my shirt, tossing it onto the sweat-slicked floor. Muscles tensed, anticipating pain capable of burning out this intrusive, filthy bond. The abrasions on my knuckles from yesterday's blows hadn't had time to heal.
"Wait." Rain dropped his sword, hurriedly picking it up.
I lunged, giving him no time to prepare. The goal was simple: to drown out this damn pulsing, this craving for the scent that haunted me even here. Hard iron against my flesh—it had to work.
Rain raised his sword, taking the blow. The steel shrieked but didn't hold. My foot bypassed his block, slamming into his thigh. He gasped, staggering back. Weakling.
"Slow!" I snarled.
Rain swayed, his face contorting.
"Clumsy. Were you sleeping?"
His gaze darted to me, full of guilt, but I was already looking away. That strange warmth flooded my chest again, scorching, demanding. The wolf inside me growled, demanding I find the source immediately. Find her.
"Alpha, I…"
I struck, not listening to him. My fist connected with his cheekbone, and Rain flew back against the wall, hitting the back of his head. He froze, breathing heavily, trying to recover. The taste of iron in my mouth, the tang of irritation on my tongue. Pain didn't help. Nothing helped.
"Enough."
I turned away without offering him a hand. I couldn't. I didn't want to. This cursed instinct pulled me like a rope in the other direction, forcing me to move. Service corridors. Cold, gloomy, soaked in the smells of wax and lye. I walked, led like a dog on a leash.
The stone walls pressed in, squeezing the space. Footsteps echoed down the hallway. In one of the niches, near a pile of dirty dishes, she sat. Alina. Cleaning silver, her hands stained black. Eyes downcast.
"You."
My voice was hoarse. She flinched, slowly raising her head. Fear. I saw it in her eyes, felt it in her scent, which now intensified, enveloping me like smoke.
"Stay still."
She froze like a statue. I gestured for her to come closer. She obeyed, slowly, as if every step was an effort. A servant's gray dress, dirty, crumpled. And that scent. Wild herbs. A forest after rain.
"Breathe."
She looked at me, her eyes widening. She didn't understand. She shouldn't understand. My body demanded it. I grabbed her shoulders roughly, forcing her to stand still. Her breath, frightened and shallow, still carried that aroma. I inhaled it greedily, deeply.
The pounding heart slowed. The frenzy subsided. The wolf's rage, which had been clawing to get out, receded. Peace. Fucking peace. It was worse than any torture.
"Get out."
I pushed her away. Harshly. A wave of self-loathing washed over me; I couldn't hold it back.
"You're underfoot."
She stumbled back, nearly falling. Her eyes dropped. Good. Let her know her place. I turned and walked back to the main hall. My breathing was no longer so heavy; my thoughts cleared. Но self-disgust remained. It was... humiliating. To depend on her.
"Our Alpha has started visiting the servants' wing quite often."
Damian's voice. Acrid, oily. He stood leaning against one of the massive columns, impeccable as always. In his hands, he twirled a small, gleaming dagger. The blade caught the last ray of the twilight sun.
I froze. My muscles tensed, and my energy became palpable, heavy. The air around us seemed to thicken. Damian just smiled, his gaze sliding over my face, lingering on my scraped knuckles.
"It's so boring there, isn't it?" he continued. "Gray mice, the smell of bleach."
The dagger in his hand performed a graceful pirouette before coming to rest. My eyes narrowed. He was hinting. He knew.
"Every Alpha has his own methods of maintaining order," my voice rang out, low and guttural. "And you, Damian, know too much about the scents in other wings."
His smile didn't waver.
"I take an interest in the life of the palace. It's always useful to know who goes where, what they're looking for."
The dagger flew into the air again, catching a glint of light.
"Especially," his voice dropped a bit lower but lost none of its bite, "when it concerns your... ahem... attachment."
"Attachment?" I pushed off the floor, closing the distance. My stride was predatory. He didn't move. Composure. Bastard.
"Some might consider it... a weakness. Enemies, for instance. They look for such things. Small, invisible threads. Things they can pull."
His words were a cold shower. Enemies. Vulnerability. No one was supposed to know about this damn bond. No one.
"There is no attachment." My voice was hard as stone. "She is nothing. A tool. For... maintaining order."
Damian raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting.
"Of course. It's always useful to have such... tools at hand. Especially when they are so... responsive."
The wolf inside me growled. Falsehood. I felt it in my own words, and I felt Damian seeing right through them. My inner beast snarled, ready to tear this self-satisfied spider apart.
"I know how to maintain my own order."
Damian took a step back. The dagger vanished into the sheath at his belt.
"I don't doubt it, Alpha." He bowed, but there wasn't an ounce of respect in his movement, only mockery. "Just... a reminder. There will always be someone who wants to take advantage of that."
He turned and left, light and silent. Behind him, he left only a faint, false scent of calm that only intensified my irritation. Damian. He was like a splinter deep under the skin. He saw through me.
I was left alone. I clenched my fists so hard that claws bit into my palms, piercing the skin. Blood. This should have been the only pain I felt. But no. This cursed dependency. It was worse than poison. It was humiliating. It made me... weak.
The omega's scent. It had become my drug. My necessity. Necessary to control the beast within. It was disgusting. I, an Alpha, enslaved by the scent of a wretched servant.
A low, guttural growl escaped my chest. Not addressed to Damian. Not to Alina. Addressed to myself. To my weakness. To my damn, unbearable weakness.
I pressed my palms against the cold stone of the column, cracking my knuckles. My own flesh, my own body, had betrayed me. I closed my eyes, trying to burn out this feeling, this craving. But it was here. Deep inside. And I knew: it wasn't going anywhere. Never. It was a leash. And it was around my neck.
I opened my eyes. The world around me seemed too bright, too sharp. The walls of the hall where I had just crushed Rain now resembled a dungeon. Every stone, every glint of light seemed like a mockery. My strength, my power—everything paled before this internal struggle. The wolf inside me was still snarling, but now its growl was directed not at an external enemy, but at me. He was in a rage. The rage of an Alpha cornered by his own nature.
I felt sweat trickling down my back, cooling the skin. Not from training, no. From the tension, from the struggle with myself. From this dirty, sticky feeling that I was not my own master. My hands, still clutching the column, trembled. I had to stop this. Had to tear this bond out by the root. But how? Every time this craving rolled over me, my mind shut down, leaving only animal instinct, forcing me to seek out that soothing, loathsome scent.
Damian. His biting words, his knowing smirk. He didn't just suspect. He knew. And worse, he saw it as a weakness he could exploit. It was like an open wound I couldn't hide. My reputation. My power. Everything could collapse because of one insignificant omega.
I stepped back from the column, leaving damp prints of sweat and blood on it. My eyes slowly swept over the deserted hall. Shadows lengthened, swallowing the light, and it felt as if the walls were narrowing, crushing me. Somewhere out there, deep in the corridors, she continued to clean her silver, unaware that she had become my main vulnerability. My curse.
"Weakness." The word rang in my head, echoing. I, Cale, Alpha of this castle, of this lineage, had never allowed myself to be weak. I built my strength on blood and iron, on ruthlessness and total control. And now, one girl, just a servant, held me in her invisible claws.
I took a few steps, my bare feet treading on the cold stone. Every step resonated with pain. My thoughts raced, trying to find a way out, but every path led back to her. To her scent. To this cursed peace that, like poison, was slowly but surely destroying me from within.
What if Damian is right? What if someone else finds out? My enemies were everywhere. They waited for the slightest mistake. And this "attachment," as he put it, wasn't just a mistake. It was a cliff, a bottomless abyss I could fall into at any moment.
My lips curled into a snarl. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. No. I won't let this happen. I am an Alpha. I control my destiny. And I control every one of my weaknesses. This... this pathetic bond will be destroyed. Torn out. Throttled.
I headed for the exit of the hall. My goal was different now. Not peace. Control. I had to find a way. Any way. To break these ties before they destroyed me completely. Before they made me a plaything in the hands of my own instincts.
My steps were heavy, each one echoing hollowly through the hall. The faint smell of sweat and iron still hung in the air, but it felt as if I could only smell that sweet, herbal aroma poisoning my mind. It haunted me. It was everywhere.
How could I have allowed this? How could I have lost control to such an extent? Memories of yesterday, when I first consciously used her scent, flashed in my mind. I thought then it was a one-time thing. A necessary measure. But now, it had become... a necessity. It was uncontrollable.
My eyes burned with amber fire. Rage. Disappointment. And, to admit it to myself, fear. Fear of losing what I valued most—my independence, my strength. My status. Everything I was.
"She is nothing." I repeated the words, trying to convince myself. Trying to drown out the voice of the wolf who, though quieted, still demanded her presence somewhere deep inside.
I imagined her face, her frightened eyes when I pushed her. It brought me no satisfaction, as it once did to see fear in the eyes of servants. It was only confirmation of my... dependency. My humiliation. She was just a pawn, but this pawn held me by the throat.
I needed to act. Quickly. Decisively. Before this poison seeped too deep. Before Damian or someone else used it against me. I pressed my lips into a thin line. My path was clear. I had to break free. At any cost.
My heartbeat quickened again, but this time not from rage. From determination. From a cold, steely desire to destroy the problem before it destroyed me. I was not a puppet. I was an Alpha. And I would prove it. To myself. To her. To Damian. And to anyone who dared to doubt.
A final growl escaped my chest, tearing through the castle's silence. This time it was not from helplessness, but from a burgeoning, cold fury. A fury directed at the source of my weakness. At her. And at the cursed bond I vowed to break.