Chapter 67 Damien's Distance
The training grounds were empty when Damien arrived before dawn, the sky still bruised purple with night. Frost clung to the grass, crunching beneath his boots as he shed his cloak and rolled his shoulders. The cold didn’t bother him. He welcomed it. Pain was simpler than thought.
He shifted without ceremony.
Bone cracked. Muscle tore and reformed. Fur rippled across his skin as his wolf burst free, massive and dark, scarred from battles old and new. The wolf snarled, not at an enemy, but at the tight leash Damien had wrapped around the bond pulsing deep in his chest.
No, he commanded himself.
He lunged at the training dummies, claws ripping through wood and straw as if they were flesh. Each strike was precise. Controlled. Ruthless. The kind of fighting that left no room for emotion.
Still, Tiara’s presence lingered at the edges of his mind.
He could feel her waking. Feel the way her power curled inward like a storm forced underground. It was wrong. Unnatural. And it terrified him.
Damien slammed into another dummy, splintering it. His wolf howled, a low, furious sound. The bond flared instinctively, urging him to go to her, to check if she was all right.
He shoved the feeling down.
For the first time since they’d been bound, Damien did the unthinkable.
He avoided her.
When the pack gathered later that morning, Damien positioned himself at the outer edge, arms crossed, gaze distant. Tiara stood at the center, radiant in a way that made the air feel charged. Power clung to her even when she tried to suppress it, a quiet gravity that drew everyone’s attention.
She spoke calmly, giving instructions about patrol rotations and supply lines. Her voice was steady. Alpha-strong.
The pack listened with rapt devotion.
Damien watched wolves who once argued with him now nod eagerly at her every word. Young Alphas from allied packs, invited after recent victories stood among them, their gazes openly admiring. One of them smiled at Tiara with something dangerously close to awe.
Jealousy coiled in Damien’s gut, sharp and unwelcome.
Get a grip, he told himself. She’s the Alpha.
But it wasn’t just respect in their eyes. It was fascination. Desire. Hope.
Tiara finished speaking and turned slightly, her gaze sweeping the crowd.
Searching for him.
Their eyes met for a brief, electric second. Something fragile flickered in her expression. Relief? Hurt? Before he could tell, Damien looked away.
He felt the bond shudder.
Tiara’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly, but she continued as if nothing had happened. The meeting dispersed soon after, wolves buzzing with renewed purpose.
Damien left without a word.
He spent the afternoon sparring with SilverShield’s elite guards, pushing them mercilessly. Sweat soaked his skin. Bruises bloomed across his ribs. None of it was enough. Every strike was fueled by the same bitter thought.
She doesn’t need me anymore.
She was Alpha now in a way few ever became. Command came to her naturally. Power obeyed her without question. The pack adored her. The Moon Council watched her with interest and fear.
Where did that leave him?
Damien remembered Tiara as she’d been once: wary, underestimated, fierce only when cornered. She had leaned on him then. Trusted him. Needed him.
Now she stood alone at the center of everything, and he felt like an afterthought orbiting her light.
That night, he deliberately severed his awareness of the bond, something only the strongest wolves could manage. It was painful, like tearing at a healing wound, but he welcomed it. The sudden quiet was almost unbearable.
Across the pack house, Tiara gasped.
She was seated at her desk, fingers stained with ink as she reviewed reports. The bond dimmed abruptly, a familiar warmth going cold. Panic spiked through her.
“Damien?” she whispered instinctively.
No answer.
Her wolf stirred anxiously, pacing inside her chest. Tiara pressed a hand to her sternum, heart racing. He was pulling away, truly this time.
The realization hurt more than any wound.
Unaware of her distress, Damien stood on the balcony overlooking the forest, the moonlight painting his sharp features in silver. He watched Tiara from afar as she crossed the courtyard below, flanked by council representatives. One of the visiting Alphas laughed at something she said, leaning closer than necessary.
Damien’s jaw clenched.
Of course they admire her, he thought bitterly. She’s everything an Alpha should be.
He turned away before the jealousy could curdle into something uglier.
Later, when the pack feasted together, Damien chose a seat far from Tiara. Conversation flowed around him, but he barely heard it. His focus stayed fixed on the way she smiled politely, the way her laughter didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She was trying. Gods, she was trying so hard.
A young Alpha named Kieran raised his cup. “To Alpha Tiara,” he declared. “The strongest leader I’ve ever seen.”
Cheers erupted.
Tiara inclined her head gracefully, but her gaze flicked again to Damien.
He didn’t respond.
The cheers rang hollow in his ears. Each one felt like a nail sealing something shut.
As the night wore on, Tiara excused herself early. Damien watched her leave, the bond faint and distant. His wolf growled uneasily, sensing the damage being done.
She chose this, Damien told himself. She chose power.
But deep down, a quieter voice whispered a truth he refused to face.
She chose this.
Alone in his quarters, Damien sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped loosely between his knees. Memories surfaced unbidden, Tiara’s first smile at him, her fear the night she almost ran, the way she’d trusted him to stand at her side when no one else would.
“She doesn’t need me anymore,” he said aloud, as if saying it enough times would make it real.
The bond pulsed weakly in response, aching.
He closed his eyes and leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, the weight of doubt pressing heavily on his chest. For the first time since becoming her mate, Damien wondered if loving her meant learning how to let go.
Across the pack house, Tiara lay awake, staring at the ce
iling, tears slipping silently into her hair. She felt Damien’s distance like a physical wound, raw and bleeding.