26

Chapter Title: POV:

Jake Morning

The sun was barely above the horizon, but I felt alert, sitting at the foot of the bed with my head in my hands. My fingers got stuck in my hair and pulled it up further than it should've. I’d barely slept.

Not because of the rogue attacks. Not because of the never-ending duties as Alpha.

It was her.

Morticia.

I hear her name ringing in my ear like a song I can't get out of my head, and every single time I shut my eyes, I picture her face—the way her cheeks flushed when she laughed, the pressure of her lips against my teeth, yielding, tender; above all, deliciously addictive.

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to stand. No. Enough of this.

I wasn’t some love-struck pup. I was an Alpha. My duty was to my pack, to my people—not to a woman who was already engaged to another man—not anyone who was decrepit—but my best friend.

Jacob.

The thought of him tightened my chest with guilt. He’d been by my side through everything: blood, battles, and loss. And this is how I repay him? Coveting his future Luna?

You’re better than this, Jake.

I poured some cold water on my face from a washbasin. The jolting cold threw me out of rumination but not out of thinking. My image pinned me with eyes—viz., with vision itself—but as focused, keener eyes than usual; my jaw set firm like a piece of igneous rock.

I could see the battle raging in them: Duty versus Desire.

Duty had to win. It had to.

★

Avoiding her was harder than I expected.

The palace was big, with miles of corridors and rooms, but for some reason, it felt less intimidating today—like a labyrinth. At each turn, if I entered a corridor, I half-expected to stumble over her. Her girth was something I felt obliged to reproach, and my lower, wolfish side only exacerbated the ache.

He was restless—pacing and growling at me from the inside.

“Go to her,” he urged. “She’s ours.”

“She’s not ours,” I snapped back. “She belongs to Jacob.”

He didn’t like that; he snarled at the thought of Jacob. My wolf didn’t understand "duty" or "honor." He knew only instinctual things, and right now every instinct led him to be near her.

I felt a squeezing sensation in my chest as if I were drawn to her. But that connection—whatever it was—only grew stronger.

I ignored it. I had to.

Passing the courtyard, I glanced down from the balcony. The sight of her hit me harder than I'd anticipated. She lounged on a rock bench with fists on her knees. A soft breeze brushed against her cheek while her hair formed tresses so compact they seemed like strands of spun gold. She ducked her head and swung it back and forth, eyes closed as if to completely submerge herself in the sun that streamed down her back in laminar troughs.

Beautiful.

I gripped the railing, forcing myself to stay put. My wolf growled low in my chest, demanding I go to her, but I stayed rooted in place. Look away, Jake. Walk away.

But I couldn't—not right away.

I watched her for more than I needed to have been—recording each step: the gentle rise and fall of her chest; the peaceful expression on her face; the way she seemed untouchable—like something I had no right to claim.

And yet, my wolf rumbled with certainty: Ours.

No. She’s not.

I veered and swerved down the passageway; with every action, my gait reverberated and vibrated in the echoing silence of the passageways around me. Noon — The War Room

The smell of ink and leather hung in the air, overlaid with the distant metallic scent of elaborated arms decorating the wall. The oak long table was covered with scrolls and writing in quick, smooth script. I fixed myself at the front of it—arms crossed and sight fixed on the headlines.

The rogues were becoming bolder; they had been recorded on the eastern side three times over the past week. The scouts couldn't get hold of them, causing even more suffering. An enemy you couldn’t see was always more dangerous.

“Alpha,” one of my guards said, stepping forward. His eyes were downcast; his stance respectful. “We received another report: Tracks were seen lining the riverbank but washed into the woods.”

“Any signs of a den?” I joked, cutting through the room like a knife.

“None, Alpha; it’s like they’re ghosts.”

I clenched my jaw—fingers tapping on the table. Rogues were never this organized; they were wild, untamed wolves free from pack and purpose—they moved about freely in search of food and occupied as much space as would allow. But this... this felt different—coordinated and precise.

“Double the patrols on the eastern border,” I ordered. “I want eyes on that riverbank at all times; if anyone sees movement, they report immediately.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

The guard bowed and walked away while I stood there looking at the chart; my wolf was finally still—no less observant than I.

Protect the pack—that’s all that matters.

But as things went on, I could feel it—a latent indication of a draw—a soft tug in my chest.

Her. In the Training Grounds

The sun beat down on the back of my head; heat hit the practice field. Sounds of flesh being sewn together with metal filled every corner—military personnel fighting against military personnel—with sounds of metal on metal and shouts filling space with noise.

I watched from the edge—arms folded and eyes sharp.

“Harder,” I barked at one recruit; he was green—a cellmate—and there was no room for hesitation in battle; hesitation got you killed.

He swung again—this time with more force—better.

I needed this—and the stink of sweat and explosions that muffled every other noise—no thoughts of her; no thoughts of what I couldn't have.

Just focus—just control.

An attacker approached me—wiping his forehead. “Alpha, will you spar with me?” he asked—eyes gleaming with determination.

“Are you sure?” I raised a brow.

He nodded—brave but stupid.

I got onto the dirt with him—crunching my neck. “Don’t hold back.”

He didn’t; he came at me fast—his footwork quick—but I'd seen it all before—I evaded his first blow—taking hold of his wrist and snapping it behind his back; he grunted in pain but I released him quickly.

“Again,” I ordered.

This time he arrived even more focused—shooting for my lower ribs—I ducked—sweeping his legs out from under him; he landed with a bang—a whoop then spluttering whoop—and a cloud of dust bigger than Bigfoot covered him.

“Too slow,” I said—helping him up. “Your stance is wide; tighten it.”

He nodded—panting—with sweat dripping from his face. “Yes, Alpha.”

During the next hour—I pushed him far beyond what I should have—harder than necessary—but I needed it too—I needed something to take the edge off.

It is as if he were on all fours panting at the very edge while I stood tall—heart steady and breaths even.

“Good,” I muttered—patting his back. “You’ll do better tomorrow.”

For instance—as allegedly true or false—as I spoke out loud to myself—I realized that he wasn’t the one who needed to do better. Evening — Private Quarters

The emptiness of my room sounded louder than anything else.

I sat at the edge of the bed staring at the door; too placid—and that only added to the horror—the pull grew worse—a lingering aching vibrating sensation running from my upper back down both shoulders.

I knew why—I knew who it was for.

My wolf shifted inside me again—pacing restlessly.

“Go to her,” he growled.

No!

“She’s ours.”

No! She’s not!

I stood abruptly—running a hand through my hair; each time I looked out—I closed my hands and peered out at the window—the garden lay silent as a crypt—but its presence waited in discovery's arms if only I'd search enough for it.

I turned away:

Distance—I needed distance!

I wouldn’t betray Jacob!

I wouldn’t betray my pack!

But that ache wouldn’t go away.