Torn between two mates.
Aria’s POV
The castle looms above the cliffs, its towers biting into the clouds, its stone walls carved with the stories of wars that ended centuries ago, and in its shadow, I begin to breathe again, though I am not certain how long this fragile rhythm will last. The Lycans who move through its corridors are unlike any wolves I have ever known, their steps measured, their loyalty unquestionable, their discipline as sharp as their teeth. They watch me when they think I do not notice, not with cruelty but with a cautious curiosity, as though they are still weighing what sort of woman I am, whether the whispers about me are truth or shadow, whether I will falter or rise.
I push myself harder each day, letting the training bruise and exhaust me, forcing my body to remember the strength I once had. My claws bite into the dummies, my muscles burn, my breath saws through my chest, and with every strike, every block, every fall and rise, I remind myself that I am not broken, that I will never again be the girl who knelt trembling while her world burned. Sometimes, when I am certain no one else sees, I notice Darius watching me. Not just as a king measures a warrior, but as a man who sees the woman beneath the scars, who notices that piece by piece I am stitching myself back together.
At night, the castle grows quieter, though never still. Torches flicker against ancient stone, and the patrols pass with soundless precision. It is in those rare hours of calm that Darius and I find ourselves together most often, sitting side by side at the long table or walking beneath the cold archways, and though our words are simple, about training, about strategy, about what tomorrow might bring, the air between us is never simple. It is filled with an awareness neither of us can ignore.
There was a moment, not long ago, when I thought we would give in to the bond again, when his touch on my skin and the fire in his eyes had been too much to resist. My wolf had stirred, aching for his, ready to surrender, but I stopped, afraid, and Darius had pulled back without anger, only with a quiet patience that unsettled me more than desire ever could. Later, when I tried to apologize, he shook his head and said softly, “We wait. Until you are ready. Until you choose me. Until you are ready to have a mate again. I can wait for you. It is not easy, but we have tasted each other, and the fire between us can wait until you are willing to become mine in the full sense of the word.” Those words have bound me as surely as the bond itself, wrapping around me like armour and a promise all at once.
Tonight, I feel that tension again as we sit together in the hall, our shoulders close enough to touch, our hands almost brushing on the table. His gaze lingers on me, warm, steady, and I feel the pull of him with every breath, a fire curling low in my stomach, but I remember what we decided, what he promised, and I hold myself still. The bond between us thrums quietly, not demanding but waiting, a steady presence that asks for patience and trust.
It is then that I find the courage to speak Ethan’s name aloud, though my voice trembles. “Darius, I need to tell you… about Ethan Blackthorn. He was my mate. My Alpha. He rejected me. I never understood why, and I don’t think he did either. But the bond, it’s still there. It has faded a little, but it did not break. I can still feel it.” The words leave me like shards tearing through my throat, but there is relief in honesty.
He does not flinch, does not rage. His eyes only narrow with the weight of listening. “You are here,” he says simply, his tone firm but not unkind. “You are alive, Aria. You are stronger than the bond he broke, and you have the right to decide what becomes of you now. Ethan may roar, but he does not define you. That is for you to claim.”
His hand brushes mine, only the faintest touch, but it steadies me more than any shield. I nod, letting his words sink into the hollow places inside me, reminding myself that I am not powerless, that choice is still mine.
We move later to the training yard, and I lose myself in the rhythm of combat again, my claws tearing against wood and straw until sweat slicks my back and my muscles quiver. Darius watches, not interfering, letting me push until I collapse to one knee. Only then does he offer his hand, lifting me as though I weigh nothing, his touch lingering longer than it needs to, his eyes speaking what his mouth does not. I feel the fire between us in that moment, the pull to lean closer, to let the bond take what it wants, but instead I draw back, and he lets me. His patience is once more, more powerful than desire.
Later, when we sit again, silence stretches between us, heavy but not uncomfortable, filled with all the things we have not yet said. Then it happens, the tremor beneath the floor, faint but growing, a vibration that runs up through the soles of my feet and into my chest. Darius stills, every line of his body taut, his wolf roused and listening. I hear it then, faint at first but rising quickly, a rolling cry carried on the wind, swelling until the night itself seems to echo with it.
My heart clenches. I know that sound. It is Ethan. His war cry bursts across the valley, raw and commanding, the voice of an Alpha claiming the world around him, and the bond between us flares to life, burning inside me like a spark trying to become fire. My claws curl into my palms. My body trembles with equal parts dread and longing.
“That is Ethan,” I whisper, the words caught on my breath.
Darius takes my hand, his grip unyielding, steadying me against the storm. “He thinks he can claim what he cast aside. He believes regret makes him worthy again. He is wrong. Let him come, Aria. Let him learn what it costs.”
We rise together and walk to the window, the night alive with the chorus of wolves, the earth trembling with their approach. The bond between Ethan and me pulls sharply, demanding I listen, but Darius’s hand anchors me, his presence steady as stone, his patience wrapping around me like a vow.
Two bonds burn inside me, one frayed but stubborn, the other new and fierce and waiting, and as the cries roll across the land, I feel the weight of choice pressing down on me. Ethan calls to what I was. Darius waits for what I might become. And somewhere between the two, I must decide who I truly am.
