Chapter 40 Never Less
DAGNOTH DRACULIS
Was Dahlia the wrong choice?
The thought struck without warning, sharp and enough to make me stop walking.
My wolf stirred.
She is.
I halted in the corridor, stone cold beneath my bare feet, the torches along the walls flickering low as if they sensed the fracture inside me.
“What do you mean?” I asked aloud, jaw tightening.
Silence stretched for a heartbeat.
Then—
What if the nightmare wasn’t a threat, but a warning meant to protect you from her?
I scoffed under my breath and resumed walking. “Protect me by showing her dead? By drowning the pack in blood?”
By showing you the cost.
I clenched my fists. “You’re twisting it.”
Am I? my wolf pressed. You saw his smile. You felt it. He wasn’t afraid of her—he was pleased.
My steps slowed.
The image rose unbidden: the shadowed man, the silver eyes… the curve of his mouth when Dahlia stood alone in the firelight.
I shook my head hard. “No. He was mocking me.”
He was claiming her.
“That’s a lie.”
Then why did he let her fall? my wolf demanded. Why didn’t he take her? Why leave you with guilt instead of grief?
My chest tightened.
“I failed because I was too late,” I said through my teeth.
You failed because you ran toward her instead of guarding what you already have.
I stopped again, this time gripping the wall.
“She is not my ruin,” I said coldly. “She is not a weakness.”
Everything you care about is a weakness.
And she is becoming the sharpest one.
The corridor blurred.
For a moment, the nightmare tried to claw its way back—blood, screaming, disappointment burning in her eyes—but I forced it down, shoved it into the dark corner of my mind where doubt belonged.
“This conversation is over,” I growled.
My wolf didn’t retreat.
You will choose. One way or another.
I turned sharply and headed for my chambers, each step heavier than the last.
The door shut behind me with a dull thud.
The scent hit me immediately.
Milk and honey.
It warWarm, sweet and familiar.
Firelight glowed low in the room, painting the stone walls gold. The curtains were drawn. The bed was untouched, except for her… My guts told me she was here.
My Luna lay against the pillows, red silk clinging to her skin like spilled wine. Her hair framed her face, eyes following me with slow intention.
“You’re awake late,” she said softly. “Or early.”
I didn’t respond.
She sat up slightly, the movement deliberate. “It’s been a while,” she added. “Since you last came to me, I wonder why.” Her tone was filled with sarcasm.
I removed my cloth and set it aside, keeping my distance. “I’m not in the mood.”
Her expression flickered, briefly hurt, quickly masked. She was a master at hiding her emotions, but I always saw every inch of It.
“Maybe a particular someone is making think too much?” she asked.
I stilled. Didnt respond.
“I heard you leave,” she continued. “And you don’t pace like that unless something is wrong, did you have a nightmare,” she asked tracing her fingers on my arm.
I met her gaze. “This isn’t about you.”
Her lips pressed together. “Is it about her?”
The air shifted.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“Dahlia,” she said anyway. Not sharp. Not angry. Just… testing. “She’s been occupying a lot of your thoughts.”
“She is a guest in the royal pack house,” I said flatly. “Nothing more.”
My Luna rose from the bed, silk whispering as she moved closer. “Guests don’t fracture Alphas.”
I felt my wolf stir again, restless.
“You’re imagining threats where there are none,” I said.
Her eyes searched mine. “Then look at me.”
I did.
And felt—nothing like the storm I expected.
Not guilt. Not desire. Just exhaustion.
“You’ve been distant,” she said quietly. “And distance breeds doubt.”
“This is not about Dahlia,” I repeated.
“Then swear it.”
I hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Her breath caught.
“That’s answer enough,” she said, stepping back, spine straightening. “I am your Luna. I will not compete with a woman you insist means nothing.”
I turned away. “This discussion is over.”
“So is intimacy,” she replied coolly. “Until you decide where your centre truly lies.”
Silence fell between us—thick, unresolved.
I moved toward the adjoining chamber, my wolf restless, pacing inside me like a caged storm.
Behind me, her voice followed, softer now, more dangerous.
“Be careful, Dagnoth. Guests don’t stay forever. But choices… choices scar.”
The door closed behind me.
And in the darkness, my wolf whispered again—
She is not your ruin.
She is your test.
The more I tried to get the thoughts out of my my head the more I saw her face, the more the nightmare reoccurred in my head.
I was Dagnoth Draculis and ever since I became king, I have never being this confused and l wouldn't let such minor matter make me be less of the the alpha king I am.