Chapter 46 What You Cannot Resist
Elias
I had seen brutality before.
I had commanded men through it. Ordered it. Endured it.
But there was something about last night that lingered under my skin like a splinter I could not dig out.
I stood at the edge of the encampment, a half-empty flask in my hand, the sharp burn of wine doing little to dull the edge of my thoughts. Dawn had not yet broken, and the world remained cloaked in that uneasy stillness before light—a silence that felt undeserved after what had transpired.
My jaw tightened.
How dare they.
Her face rose unbidden in my mind.
Wide eyes. Still. Watching.
Terrified.
My grip tightened around the flask.
A low, dangerous sound rumbled in my chest before I could stop it.
Did they have no restraint?
No sense?
“Animals,” I muttered under my breath.
I knew how they were raised. I had been raised among them. Strength above all. Dominance unquestioned. Want something? Take it. Keep it. Break whatever stands in your way.
It had never sat right with me.
Last night had only confirmed why.
I dragged a hand harshly over my face, as if I could scrub away the image burned into my mind. It did nothing. If anything, it sharpened it—the way her body had tensed, the way she had leaned toward me when I arrived.
Asking.
I tipped the flask back and drank.
The burn was welcome.
I did not dwell on the fact that when I had stepped in, when I had pulled her away, something inside me had surged with a violence I had not felt in years.
It meant nothing.
She was not mine to protect.
Not mine to claim.
Not mine at all.
I exhaled slowly and turned back toward my tent.
The flap shifted quietly as I entered, and the change in scent hit me immediately. My gaze moved without thought.
She lay curled slightly on my furs, one hand resting loosely over her stomach, the other clutching the edge of my cloak where it had fallen around her shoulders. Her breathing was slow now, even, the tension that had gripped her earlier softened in sleep.
Peaceful.
The sight struck me harder than it should have.
For a moment, something in my chest loosened.
My inner alpha stirred.
A low, satisfied hum pressed against the back of my thoughts, uninvited and unwelcome.
She’s safe here.
I exhaled sharply, tipping the flask back again.
“She is mated,” I muttered under my breath, as if saying it aloud would anchor it in place. “And carrying another’s child.”
The presence in my mind scoffed.
And yet she sleeps in your furs. Wrapped in your scent.
My hand flattened against the table, fingers splaying as if to ground myself.
“That means nothing.”
It means everything.
I reached for the flask again and took a longer drink this time, the bitterness sharp on my tongue.
“I will not entertain this,” I muttered, my voice low.
The response came anyway.
You already are.
My grip tightened.
This—whatever this was—ended at the border. It had to. I would see her safely delivered, far from Drakovian lands, far from men like those who had tried to touch her, and then—
I would walk away.
Anything else would be selfish.
I did not intend to become the very thing I despised.
My gaze shifted back toward her despite myself.
She had not moved.
Still asleep.
Still—
I froze.
Something was wrong.
It was subtle at first. A shift in the air. A change so faint most would have missed it.
But I did not.
Her scent.
It had deepened.
Not stronger in volume, but richer. Warmer. Something beneath it unfurling slowly, like heat rising from stone after a long day under the sun.
My pulse stuttered.
No.
My body reacted before my mind could catch up, every instinct sharpening, honing in on that shift with dangerous precision.
My inner alpha stirred immediately.
Interest turning to hunger with alarming speed.
I straightened abruptly, tension snapping through my frame.
Stress-induced heat was rare but not unheard of. Not in omegas who had endured prolonged fear, exhaustion, instability.
And she had endured all three.
The realization came quickly—and unwelcome.
Of all the times.
Of all the—
My gaze snapped back to her.
She shifted slightly in her sleep, brow furrowing, her hand pressing faintly against her stomach as if in discomfort.
That settled it.
My pulse kicked harder.
This was bad.
Very bad.
If any of the other alphas caught even a hint of it—
My jaw tightened.
I crossed the tent in two strides before stopping myself just short of the furs.
My heart began to beat faster.
My body leaned—just slightly—before I forced it still.
I looked down at her.
Waking her would be the logical choice.
Get ahead of it. Control it.
But she looked—
My gaze lingered.
Peaceful.
And something in me balked at tearing that away.
My inner alpha was less restrained.
Wake her.
Touch her.
Taste—
I turned sharply, dragging a hand down my face.
“Enough.”
The word came out harsher than intended.
I stepped back, putting distance between myself and the problem—no, the temptation—before it could root itself any deeper.
I needed control.
And right now, that meant distance.
Without another glance, I exited the tent.
~~~~~~
Cold air hit me like a slap.
Good.
I needed that.
The guards did not expect me. That was their first mistake. The second was assuming I would be lenient.
Excuses came quickly.
“They invited it—”
“They didn’t resist—”
“We thought since they were bound for the border any—”
I moved before the last man could finish.
The crack of impact cut through the air as my fist drove into his face, sending him sprawling.
Silence followed.
I flexed my hand once, slow, controlled.
“You thought,” I said quietly, “that you could take what is under my protection.”
No one spoke.
My gaze swept over them, cold and deliberate.
“And the one who touched her first?”
Silence stretched.
My expression darkened.
“Find him.”
They scrambled.
Minutes passed.
No one returned with an answer.
Gone.
Of course.
The Triune did not send fools.
My molars ground together.
I exhaled slowly, but the anger did not leave me.
Two infiltrators. In and out without detection.
My gaze flicked over the men in front of me, and my disappointment was palpable.
“Pathetic,” I muttered.
Punishment followed.
Not excessive enough to hinder travel.
But enough to remind them that discipline was not optional.
Enough to ensure it would not happen again.
And when I was done—
I ran.
Not out of duty.
Not entirely.
The perimeter blurred beneath my feet as I circled the encampment again and again, scanning tracks, patterns, anything out of place—but my thoughts refused to quiet.
They circled back.
To her.
Always her.
By the time I returned to the tent, the sun had begun its slow ascent.
And she was awake.