Steel slammed into steel with a shriek that set my teeth on edge. I didn't slow my pace. My blade carved heavy, predatory arcs, forcing Reyn back toward the damp stones of the wall. The hall was drowning in gloom; only the torches spat sparks, catching beads of sweat on his paling face.
"Again!" my voice lashed him like a whip. "You're defending yourself like a beaten bitch, Reyn. Stand straighter."
"I… I can barely see your lunges, my lord."
"Then trust your nose. There is only my smoke and your cowardice in the air. Absorb it."
I lunged, aiming for his shoulder. Reyn barely managed to throw up a block. The vibration from the impact traveled through my arms, echoing with a pleasant heat in my muscles. My body worked like a fine-tuned mechanism; every nerve was taut as a bowstring. The wolf within purred with satisfaction, tasting the air of superiority.
"A sword is an extension of your will," I delivered a series of rapid strikes, making his blade ring incessantly. "If your will is weak, the iron won't save you."
Reyn was breathing heavily; his scent—damp earth and stale sweat—was becoming sharper. He stumbled over an uneven stone in the floor.
"Is that enough?" he croaked, lowering his weapon.
"I didn't give the command. Lift your steel."
"But we've been training for three hours…"
"In a real fight, the enemy won't ask if your legs are tired," I stepped into his personal space, crushing him with my energy. "You are either the hunter or the prey. There is no third option."
The heavy forged doors of the hall creaked open. The sound of footsteps echoed under the vaulted ceiling—measured, heavy, authoritative. I had known this rhythm since birth. Edric. My father.
I lowered my sword, never taking my eyes off Reyn. The boy retreated hastily, bowing his head low.
"You're dismissed," I snapped at the lad. "Dawn tomorrow. And don't forget to clean your armor. It reeks of cheap leather."
Reyn scurried past my father, trying not to raise his eyes. Edric watched him go with a heavy gaze filled with disappointment.
"You're wasting time on trash, Cale. That boy will never be a warrior."
"He is a tool for a warm-up, Father. Nothing more."
I walked over to the water rack. I tipped a bucket over my head, letting the icy streams wash away the sweat and soot. The water scorched my skin, tearing a short growl from my throat.
"You don't need tools; you need allies," Edric stopped two paces away. His scent—an old mountain overgrown with dry moss—pressed down on my shoulders. "The Blood Moon rises in three days. Are you ready?"
"My fangs are sharp, if that's what you're asking."
"I am talking about legacy. The pack doesn't just need a strong leader; it needs stability. Your wildness scares the councilors."
I wiped my face with a coarse cloth, tossing it aside.
"Let them fear. Fear is the best guarantor of loyalty."
"Until it isn't. We need an alliance with the Western Lands. The daughter of the North's Alpha…"
"No."
The word snapped from my lips before I could think. The wolf within bristled.
"You haven't even heard the terms."
"I don't give a damn about the terms, Father. I'm not going to share my bed and my power with someone just because our border maps need updating."
"It is a political marriage, Cale!" Edric stepped forward, his voice taking on a growling edge. "You are an Alpha. Your duty is to ensure the prosperity of the pack."
"My duty is to be the strongest beast in this forest. The rest will follow."
"Strength without roots is just a rage that will consume itself. You need a mate. A strong mate. Someone who can withstand your onslaught and bear heirs capable of holding the throne."
I gripped the hilt of my sword so hard my knuckles turned white. The thought of a mate had always made me nauseous. In my mind, it was a chain shackling my instincts.
"I will find my equal at the ceremony. If Selene proves strong enough, I will consider her candidacy."
"Selene is an ambitious bitch. She will eat you alive if you show any weakness."
"Let her try."
A silhouette detached itself from the shadows near the columns. Damian. He stood there, leaning against the stone with that perpetual, faint smirk that never reached his eyes. His green eyes flashed, reflecting the torchlight.
"Discussing strong women?" Damian approached, his movements fluid, almost silent. "The most dangerous topic in this castle."
"You were eavesdropping," I stated, not asking.
"I was ensuring your safety, Cale. These are restless times. Your father is right—the pack is waiting for a sign."
"The pack is waiting for a command," I cut him off. "What do you want, Damian?"
"Oh, merely to entertain you before your serious choice," he walked to the table where a pitcher of wine stood and splashed some into a goblet. "Speaking of the ceremony. They say this time, among the contenders, there will be many… delicate creatures."
Edric looked gloomily at the advisor.
"We don't need delicate creatures. We need wolves."
"Of course," Damian took a sip, his eyes fixed on me. "But imagine, Cale. A tiny, trembling Omega. The quiet scent of herbs, a submissive gaze. Perhaps you should trade your wrath for mercy? A little weakness in bed sometimes stirs the blood better than a constant battle for dominance."
A growl ripped from my chest before I realized it. The air in the hall thickened instantly, saturated with my anger—a heavy, suffocating smoke of a bonfire.
"An Omega?" I stepped toward Damian, closing the distance to a minimum. "Are you suggesting that I, the future King, tie myself to a mistake of nature?"
"It was only a joke," Damian didn't even flinch, but his fingers tightened visibly on the goblet.
"To my ears, it sounds like an insult. Weakness is a contagion. It rots within the pack, undermining it from the inside. Omegas are only good for sweeping floors and staying out of sight."
"They have their functions, Cale," Edric tried to interject.
"They have only one function—to remind us of what we must never be!" I slammed my fist onto the wooden table. The crack of the wood sounded like a gunshot. "If I catch the scent of an Omega near my throne, I will personally tear her throat out. I don't need submission. I need power."
Damian slowly set down the goblet. The smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a mask of false humility.
"Your lack of compromise… is admirable. But beware, Cale. Fate loves to play jokes on those who think themselves above its laws."
"I write my own laws."
"Enough," Edric raised a hand, ending the dispute. "We've discussed politics. Now, let's discuss the ceremony. You will go out first. You will choose the one whose energy matches yours. And if it is Selene—so be it. But do not dare disgrace your lineage with a refusal."
"I will do what is necessary for the pack. But do not expect tenderness from me."
Father nodded, his gaze softening for a moment before turning back to stone.
"We don't need tenderness. We need order. Go, rest. Tomorrow will be a long day."
They left together, leaving me in the ringing silence of the hall. I remained standing by the broken table, feeling the vein in my temple throb. Control. It all came down to that. I had to control myself, my rage, my pack. Every movement, every word had to be calculated. Any display of softness was a crack in the armor. And enemies crawl into cracks.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the wolf that was still pacing beneath my skin.
And then I smelled it.
Faint. Almost undetectable. A foreign scent that didn't fit the atmosphere of sweat, metal, and dust in this hall.
I froze, sniffing the air.
It wasn't the scent of a warrior. No steel, no smoke. It was the scent of rain… no, not just rain. Rain after a powerful thunderstorm, when the air becomes so clean it hurts to breathe. And wild herbs. Bitter wormwood and something sweet, barely perceptible, like a wildflower under a scorching sun.
Irritation flared with a new intensity.
"Who's there?!" my voice thundered toward the ceiling, echoing off the stone gargoyles on the cornices.
No one answered. Only the torch by the entrance burned out and died with a hiss.
I walked through the hall, peering into the deep shadows behind the columns. The scent was here; it clogged my nostrils, bold in its delicacy. It didn't overwhelm like the scent of aristocrats or fighters. It… beckoned?
No. That word was unacceptable. It irritated me. It kept me from focusing. It was foreign, redundant in my world of strength and pain.
"Rats," I growled, kicking Reyn's discarded helmet.
The metal clattered against the wall. The scent of Alina—though I didn't know whose it was then—continued to hang in the air like invisible lace. The wolf within went quiet. He didn't snarl at this scent. He sniffed with a strange, frightening interest.
Weakness, flashed through my mind.
I had to find the source. I had to burn this scent out with my smoke.
I walked to the window overlooking the courtyard. The cold night air hit my face, but even it couldn't fully rid me of the sensation. Down there, the pack was preparing for the ritual. I saw the light of the fires, heard the distant hum of voices.
In three days, everything would change.
Anticipation stirred in my chest. Not quite fear, not quite thirst. I was waiting for this bond. Waiting for the moment when my strength would meet another, just as destructive and great. We would become one. We would lead this world, casting aside everything unnecessary, everything fragile.
I inhaled again. Herbs and rain.
This scent was like a challenge. A mockery of my beliefs.
Whoever it was, she would regret leaving her mark here. There is no place for Omega aromas on my territory. On my territory, steel and will rule.
"Cale?" Damian's voice drifted in from the corridor. "Are you coming?"
"I'm coming," I snapped, taking one last look at the empty hall.
I walked out, pulling the heavy doors shut behind me. But even in the corridor, amidst the smell of burning oil and old dust, I could still feel that bitter sweetness of the herbs.
The bond must be strong. Only strong.
I clenched my fists, feeling my claws bite slightly into my palms. The Blood Moon would reveal the truth. It would strip the masks from everyone. And if fate decided to slip me weakness instead of strength—I would rip that fate to shreds.
Without regret. Not in others. Not in myself. Not in anyone.
I walked through the dark corridors of the castle, each of my steps echoing, making random servants press themselves against the walls, turning into shadows. They sensed my rage. They knew: the Alpha was not in a good mood today.
And that was right.
The world must know its place. As must those who dared to bring the scent of rain into my home.
I will find you. And if you turn out to be what I think you are—it would have been better if you had never been born under this sky.
The wolf within bared its teeth. We were ready for the hunt. And the ceremony was merely an excuse to corner the prey.
A strong bond. That was all that mattered. Everything else was dust beneath my boots.
I entered my chambers and tore the heavy, sweat-soaked armor from my shoulders. My skin burned. My blood sang.
"We'll see," I whispered into the emptiness of the room, looking at the red disc of the moon rising over the forest. "We'll see which of us proves tougher."
The scent of herbs touched my mind again for a moment before I finally shoved it into the furthest corner of my memory. But I knew—it would return. And next time, I would be ready.
I won't allow it. Not to anyone.
No weakness. Only power. Only control.