Chapter 17 The weight of duty
DARIAN
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.
It’s pathetic, really. I tell myself it’s the mark, the bond is supposed to make me feel this way. Yearn. Ache. Hunger for someone I should’ve never touched. That’s all it is. A pull. A mistake I need to correct.
But the image of Iris storming out of the Haven, eyes full of hurt, spine stiff with pride, won’t leave me alone.
She didn’t say a word, but I felt everything.
My wolf has been restless ever since.
I try not to think of her.
Every time I do, it chips at the control I’ve spent years perfecting. But no matter how deep I bury myself in council work, training schedules, or the never-ending demands of the pack, Iris finds a way to surface.
And the worst part? I let it happen.
I pace the length of my study, trying to drown out the sound of her voice echoing in my head. Her laughter from that night she came over. The way she looked at me, like she didn’t know whether to fight me or fall apart. That damn scarf she always wears to hide the mark. My mark.
I slam a hand against the bookshelf, breathing hard.
This is dangerous.
She doesn’t mean anything. She can’t mean anything. She’s not part of this world, not in the way I am. I have responsibilities, bloodlines, a pack to rule. Emotions like this, they’re… indulgent. Irresponsible.
And yet.
The scent of her lingers even now, clinging to my senses like smoke. Light and wild. Almost untamable.
There’s a knock at my door, sharp and expected. I don’t need to look to know who it is.
“Come in,” I say, already regretting it.
Adira steps inside like she owns the room. Her gown hugs her frame with calculated elegance, every strand of her hair curled into a glossy, deliberate wave. She’s beauty, legacy, and obligation wrapped into one person.
“Darian,” she says, her voice soft, almost playful. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been working.”
She closes the door behind her. “We haven’t spent any time together in weeks. I thought maybe you’d like a break. Something… less formal.”
“I don’t need a break,” I reply, not bothering to look up from the documents on my desk.
She walks further in, ignoring my tone. “Even Lycans need to breathe.” Her voice lowers. “You could breathe with me.”
I finally look up, expression flat. “I have better things to do.”
That catches her. Her smile twitches for a second, just long enough for me to see it.
“Better than me?” she asks, crossing the room and placing a hand on my shoulder.
My jaw tightens. I don’t flinch away, but I don’t lean into it either.
Because all I can think about is Iris and the way she looked at me like I shattered something between us.
Adira’s hand slides down my arm, soft and slow. “We’re supposed to be spending time together, Darian. Building something real. You know that.”
I step back, just slightly, enough for her to feel it.
“Leave,” I say, voice low.
She blinks, stunned. “What?”
“I said, get out.”
Her brows draw together, more confused than offended. “Why? What is this about?”
I turn away, walking to the window, gripping the edge of the frame. “I have a meeting. With your father. And mine.”
“You’re lying.”
I don’t answer.
Adira’s heels click against the stone as she walks to the door, lingering. “Darian,” she says, almost pleading. “What’s changed?”
Everything.
But I don’t say that. I just stare out at the moonlight spilling across the courtyard, thinking of a girl who was never supposed to matter.
And how somehow, she does.
The moment Adira finally leaves, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Her perfume still lingers in the room; sweet, suffocating, fake.
I straighten the cuffs of my shirt and head out. The summons had come hours ago, and I already knew what it meant. My father doesn’t call for me unless it’s about duty, and with Alpha Conan and his daughter under our roof, there’s no doubt in my mind what this is about.
I knock twice on the heavy wooden door of his study.
“Come in,” my father’s voice booms from inside.
I step in. The room smells of leather, oak, and politics. Alpha Conan sits opposite my father, relaxed but poised, his eyes following me with that unreadable calm that makes lesser wolves squirm. I don’t squirm.
“Darian,” my father says, gesturing to the chair between them. “Sit.”
I do.
Alpha Conan offers a smile. “You’re looking well, son.”
“Thank you,” I say flatly.
My father clears his throat, folding his hands on the desk. “Alpha Conan and I were just speaking of you.”
Of course you were.
“Your growth, your dedication to the realm,” Alpha Conan adds. “The reports from your patrol units have been nothing short of impressive. You’re shaping into a leader this generation will remember.”
I nod once in acknowledgment. I don’t need validation from him. But I’ve learned to be civil, even when my wolf wants to tear through the pleasantries.
“You know why they’re here,” my father says, tone shifting.
I nod again.
He leans forward slightly. “It’s time we began making plans.”
There it is.
“Plans for your wedding,” he continues, voice firm with finality. “There’s no need to delay it further. You and Adira have known each other long enough, and this union will serve our people well.”
Alpha Conan adds, “A bond between our families will ensure peace and strength across the region. It’s what your mother would have wanted.”
I clench my jaw.
They always bring her into it. Like the memory of a woman I barely remember is supposed to soften the blow of being handed over like a piece in a political game.
“I trust you’ll honor this without resistance,” my father says. Not a question. A command.
I stare at them both, silent.
Because of course I’ll honor it.
What choice do I have?