Chapter 9: The Wolf Within
My wolf wanted him. My heart hated him. My pride refused him.
The words circled inside Elara like a storm she couldn't calm, each thought crashing into the next with relentless fury. Three forces warred within her consciousness—primal instinct, wounded emotion, and stubborn defiance—creating a chaos that left her feeling fractured and raw.
That night, sleep remained as elusive as peace. She lay in her narrow dorm bed, the ancient stone walls around her seeming to pulse with the weight of centuries. The Academy's dormitories had housed generations of young wolves, their walls absorbing decades of midnight struggles with emerging powers and unwanted bonds. Now those same walls seemed to echo with her turmoil.
Moonlight spilled through the tall Gothic windows in silver streams, painting everything in ethereal shades that made the world look like a dream. But this felt more like a nightmare she couldn't wake from. The lunar light called to something deep in her blood—all wolves felt the moon's pull more strongly during their formative years, when control was still a daily battle rather than second nature.
She listened to her wolf pacing restlessly inside her chest, claws clicking against her ribs in an endless rhythm of agitation. The creature that shared her soul had no patience for human complexities like pride or heartbreak. It knew only one truth: somewhere in this maze of stone corridors and dormant magic, their mate existed.
The bond pulsed between them like a wound that wouldn't heal—raw and insistent, a golden thread that stretched taut across the Academy grounds. Every heartbeat felt like a reminder that Darius Fenrir breathed the same air, walked the same halls, existed in the same space where she was trying so desperately to rebuild herself.
Her wolf whimpered with desperate longing. Mate. Need mate. Find mate.
Elara squeezed her eyes shut until stars burst behind her lids. "No. He doesn't want me. He made that crystal clear when he humiliated me in front of everyone."
But wolves didn't understand human concepts like social hierarchies or wounded pride. The mate bond operated on a level far deeper than conscious thought, biological imperatives written into their DNA by the Moon Goddess herself. It had already taken root in her soul, wrapping around her heart like living vines that grew stronger with each passing hour. The more she tried to ignore its pull, the tighter it coiled, the more it demanded acknowledgment.
Her human mind could list all the rational reasons why Darius Fenrir was wrong for her—his arrogance, his cruelty, his obsession with bloodline purity that made her feel like something dirty he'd stepped in. But her wolf cared nothing for logic. It knew only that their other half was close enough to reach, and every instinct screamed at her to go to him.
So she did the only thing she could: she practiced control.
The next day dawned gray and overcast, storm clouds gathering on the horizon like an omen. On the training field where packed earth had been churned to mud by countless combat sessions, most students paired off for their daily drills. The sound of bodies colliding and weapons clashing filled the air with a symphony of controlled violence that should have been comforting to her wolf.
Instead, Elara retreated to the field's edge where ancient oak trees provided shelter from prying eyes. She settled cross-legged on the damp grass, closing her eyes and sinking deep into herself with meditative focus. The technique had been passed down through her pack's oral traditions—a way to create boundaries between human consciousness and wolf instinct when the two threatened to tear each other apart.
Her breathing slowed to a deliberate rhythm. In through her nose, out through her mouth, each breath deeper than the last. She imagined constructing a wall inside her mind—not to cage her wolf, which would be both cruel and dangerous, but to create healthy separation. A barrier that acknowledged her wolf's needs while maintaining human control.
Breathe in calm. Breathe out chaos. Find the center. Hold the line.
Her wolf snarled in frustration, raking claws against the mental barrier she was building. It didn't want distance from their mate—it wanted to close that distance, to claim what the moon had promised them. The creature's desperation leaked through their shared consciousness like blood from a wound.
Elara ground her teeth, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cool air. "You don't get a say in this. Not when he's made it clear we're beneath him."
The words tasted like ash in her mouth, but she forced them out anyway. Her wolf needed to understand that some battles couldn't be won through strength alone—sometimes survival meant strategic retreat.
But the pain came anyway, sudden and sharp as a knife between her ribs. The mate bond flared without warning, yanking at her chest with vicious intensity that left her gasping. Elara stumbled to her feet, one hand pressed against her heart as agony raced through her nervous system.
Her gaze snapped up, searching instinctively for the source of the disturbance. Enhanced senses kicked into overdrive, cataloging every scent and sound across the training grounds with predatory precision.
And there he was.
Across the muddy field, Darius stood near the main sparring circle like a dark prince holding court. He was laughing at something one of the girls beside him had said—a willowy blonde from the Moonstone Pack whose family controlled territory along the western borders. His head tilted back slightly, revealing the strong column of his throat, his perfect teeth flashing in the rare curve of genuine amusement.
The sight made the mate bond tighten cruelly, wrapping around her heart like barbed wire. The pain was unbearable—not because he was capable of laughter, but because it wasn't directed at her. Because she would never be the one to bring that expression of unguarded joy to his features.
Her wolf howled with anguish inside her chest, a sound of pure heartbreak that echoed through their shared soul. Why doesn't he want us? Why aren't we enough?
Elara forced herself to turn away before the agony could overwhelm her completely, fists clenched so hard her nails drew blood from her palms. The metallic scent filled her nostrils, grounding her in physical sensation rather than emotional devastation.
"You don't get to hurt me anymore," she whispered fiercely to the wind. "I won't let you."
"Elara?"
She blinked, realizing Celeste had approached on silent feet. Her friend's silver-blonde braid hung over one shoulder, and her pale blue eyes held the kind of gentle concern that made Elara's throat tighten with unexpected emotion.
"Are you okay?" Celeste's voice carried the soft cadence of the northern packs, musical and soothing. "You look like you're in pain."
"I'm fine." The lie came automatically, a shield against sympathy she wasn't sure she could handle without breaking completely.
Celeste didn't look convinced. Her enhanced senses could probably detect the stress hormones flooding Elara's system, the rapid heartbeat that spoke of emotional turmoil rather than physical exertion. She glanced toward where Darius continued his animated conversation, then back at Elara with understanding dawning in her expression.
"You can't keep doing this to yourself."
"Doing what?" Elara snapped, sharper than intended. Her nerves were too raw for gentle probing, her defenses too thin to withstand even well-meaning interrogation.
"Pretending the bond doesn't exist." Celeste's words were plain-spoken but not unkind. "It's not something you can just ignore or wish away. The mate bond is written into your very DNA by forces older than civilization. It's part of you now, part of him. It'll tear you apart from the inside if you keep fighting it like this."
The words stung because they carried the weight of truth. Elara swallowed hard against the burning in her throat, pride blazing through her chest like wildfire. Every instinct screamed at her to reject the advice, to maintain the walls she'd built around her heart.
"I'll survive." The words came out low and fierce, a vow made to herself as much as to Celeste. "I've survived worse than a broken heart."
Celeste's gaze softened with the kind of compassion that came from her own pack's diplomatic traditions. "Elara, there's no shame in—"
"Watch me." The whisper cut through whatever comfort her friend had been about to offer, voice low and defiant as a battle cry. "Just watch me prove that some bonds can be broken through sheer will."
Celeste sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. But she didn't push further, didn't try to tear down defenses that were clearly all that stood between Elara and complete emotional collapse. Instead, she simply stayed beside her for several long moments, offering quiet companionship against the storm raging inside.
The afternoon dragged on with agonizing slowness. Training sessions blended together in a haze of physical exhaustion that did nothing to quiet the turmoil in her soul. By evening, Elara felt wrung out like a dishrag, every muscle aching and her emotions scraped raw.
When she finally returned to her dormitory as twilight painted the sky in shades of purple and gold, she let herself sag against the heavy wooden door for a long moment. Her eyes squeezed shut, shoulders trembling with the effort of maintaining composure when everything inside her wanted to scream.
The Academy's dormitories were arranged around courtyards designed to foster pack bonds among students. Her room sat on the second floor, its window overlooking the central garden where night-blooming flowers released their intoxicating scent into the cooling air.
Her wolf pressed harder than ever against her consciousness, restless and aching with needs she couldn't fulfill. But she held the line she'd drawn between them, refusing to let instinct override human judgment.
She changed into sleep clothes with mechanical precision, climbed into her narrow bed, and pulled the woven blankets tight around her shoulders like armor. The linens smelled of lavender and moonflowers—herbs traditionally used to promote peaceful rest and ward off nightmares.
Tonight, she suspected, they wouldn't be enough.
She told herself she would rest, that the mate bond couldn't haunt her dreams if she refused to give it power over her sleeping mind. But she was wrong about so many things when it came to the forces that governed supernatural hearts.
Because even in the supposed safety of her sanctuary, she wasn't alone.
Below her window, hidden in the shadow of the ancient oak that grew beside the dormitory, a figure stood motionless as carved stone. Darius had positioned himself where he could see her window but remain invisible to casual observation, his supernatural senses tracking every movement in the room above.
His eyes glowed faintly gold in the darkness, wolf pressed so close to the surface that his human features seemed almost translucent. The mate bond pulled at him with the same relentless intensity that tormented her, a chain forged by destiny that grew heavier with each hour they spent apart.
His gaze fixed on the warm rectangle of light where Elara moved about her evening routine, completely unaware of his presence. The rejection he'd delivered with such cold precision felt like a lifetime ago now—a moment of pride and prejudice that had seemed justified at the time.
Now, watching her silhouette against the lamplight, he wondered if he'd made the greatest mistake of his life.
And in those glowing eyes, despite everything he'd said about bloodlines and worthiness, there was no trace of the disdain he'd shown her publicly. Only desire, raw and unrestrained and growing stronger with every breath.
The Alpha heir who'd claimed she was beneath him couldn't stay away from her window.
The mate who'd rejected her watched over her sleep like a guardian she'd never asked for.