Chapter 8

Dorian pov.

I stormed down the corridor, my footsteps echoing off the stone walls, fists clenched so tight my knuckles ached. My wolf was raging inside me, clawing at my fucking ribs, demanding release, demanding her. Every muscle in my body was wired, my pulse hammering against my skin like a war drum.

Mate.

The word had latched onto my brain like a goddamn parasite. I could feel it sinking into my bones, poisoning every rational thought I had left.

I didn't fucking want this.

I should have left her there. Should have let Theon have his pathetic claim if he wanted to die that badly. Should have ignored the way my instincts fucking screamed when he touched her. The way my vision had gone black when he dared to say those words—words that were a fucking lie.

Freya wasn't his.

She was mine.

And I hated it.

I braced my hands against the cool stone wall, trying to steady my breath, trying to leash the beast inside me before it broke free. My body was shaking, my nails lengthening into claws as my wolf fought me.

„You fucking coward"

The snarl echoed in my skull, deeper, darker, more savage than I had ever heard it before. My wolf—my beast—had never fought me like this. Had never fucking questioned me, never doubted me.

Until her.

„You tasted her. You felt her. And you fucking ran".

I growled low, pressing my forehead against the wall, the stone biting into my skin. "Shut the fuck up."

„You're weak".

My muscles tightened, rage sparking through my veins like wildfire. "I am not weak."

„Then why did you reject her? Why did you let her think she meant nothing?"

I bared my teeth, eyes burning as I fought for control. Because she does mean nothing.

 It was fucking irrational. He wanted nothing to do with her, and yet the mere idea of Theon anywhere near her made him want to rip his throat out.

Reject her. Cut the bond. Get rid of this fucking problem.

"No."

The deep, guttural voice of his wolf—Beast—rumbled through his mind, low and threatening.

"Yes," Dorian shot back, gripping the edge of a nearby table until his knuckles turned white. "You heard Alaric. This is bullshit. We reject her, and it's over."

"She is ours."

"She is nothing," Dorian hissed. "She's weak. A half-blood mutt with no place in our world. I won't be tied to her. I refuse."

Beast growled, a sound so feral it made Dorian's head ache. "You are blind. You don't fucking see it, but she is stronger than you think."

Dorian scoffed. "She's a damn peasant. She doesn't belong in my world."

"She is your world."

A sharp knock at the door made Dorian jerk his head up. His father, King Maximilian, stepped in, his piercing eyes scanning him with something dangerously close to amusement.

"You seem... agitated."

Dorian let out a harsh laugh. "That's putting it lightly."

The King leaned against the desk, his expression contemplative. "You plan to reject her?"

"Obviously."

Maximilian hummed. "Interesting."

Dorian narrowed his eyes. "What?"

The King tilted his head, studying him. "You're reacting too strongly."

"Excuse me?"

"You feel it, don't you? The bond. The pull."

Dorian's jaw tensed. "It's nothing."

Maximilian's lips curled slightly. "You can tell yourself that all you want, but your wolf knows the truth."

Dorian scowled. "What do you want, Father?"

The King's amusement faded, replaced with something more severe. "If you truly intend to reject her, then do it swiftly. Cut all ties before it's too late."

Dorian's throat tightened, but he gave a sharp nod. "Fine."

Beast snarled in protest, but Dorian ignored him. The sooner this was over, the better.

When he found her, she was stuffing a few pathetic belongings into a small sack. The room was barely large enough to fit a single bed and a cracked dresser, the walls dull and lifeless.

Dorian's lip curled in disgust. "This is how you live?"

Freya froze, her back rigid before she turned, eyes burning with hatred. "What the fuck do you want, Your Highness?"

He ignored the venom in her tone, stepping closer. His gaze swept over her—her clothes, tattered and ill-fitting, her bare feet on the cold floor. "No wonder Theon was so eager to claim you. He probably pitied you."

Freya's fists clenched, fury lighting up her face. "Go fuck yourself, Dorian. Just reject me and let me live my pathetic life."

A cruel smirk twisted his lips. "You call this living? You're nothing. You have nothing. You'll just go back to being the useless little mutt no one wants."

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her voice was strong. "I don't need you. I never did. Reject me and go back to your perfect little world."

Dorian's smirk faltered. His wolf clawed at him, rage bubbling in his chest. But he forced the words to his lips. "Fine. I, Prince Dorian of the Blood Moon Pack—"

Beast roared inside him, and his breath hitched, his vision blurring for a split second. The words stuck in his throat. No. No, don't fucking say it.

Freya lifted her chin, her eyes blazing. "Do it."

Dorian's fists clenched at his sides. He had come here to end this. To break the bond. To free himself. But now, staring at her—so defiant, so fucking beautiful even in her rage—his wolf howled in protest.

He turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him, fury and confusion warring inside him.

This wasn't fucking over.