Page 23 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
“I’m being practical,” I counter, swirling the whiskey in my glass without drinking it.
Griffin scoffs. “Call it whatever you want. You’re still an idiot.”
“She’s not ready,” I say, the same words I’ve been repeating to myself for weeks. “She has barely adjusted to freedom, let alone what it means to be a shifter. The last thing she needs is to be told she’s bound to me for life.”
“And you’re such an expert on what she needs? Did you learn nothing from the mistakes your older brother made? I nearly lost Maya because I thought I knew better.” Griffin leans forward, his expression hardening. “Do you even talk to Fiona anymore?”
The truth stings. I don’t. Not like I did those first days when she clung to my presence like a lifeline. Not since I felt the bond pulling at me, demanding I claim what fate has decreed is mine.
“She’s better off focusing on her recovery,” I mutter.
“She’s recovering just fine,” Griffin counters. “Maya says she has made more progress in two months than anyone could have expected. What she isn’t doing is shifting. Or connecting with anyone besides Maya. She’s healing her mind, Erik, but her wolf is dying of neglect.”
His words may as well be a physical blow. I set my glass down harder than necessary. “What do you want me to do? Force a bond on her that she doesn’t understand? She was held captive and tortured for twenty years. They experimented on her, Griffin. They activated a gene she didn’t know she had and forced her to become something else entirely. And now, I’m supposed to tell her that fate has decided I own her?”
“That’s not what the mate bond is—”
“It doesn’t matter what it is!” I’m on my feet now, anger and grief tangling in my chest. “What matters is what it will feel like to her. Another choice taken away. Another thing decided for her by forces she can’t control.”
Griffin rises slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “And what about you, Erik? What are you so afraid of?”
The question lands like a blade between my ribs. I turn away, facing the window that overlooks the training yard, now empty and silent under the moonlight.
“I have responsibilities,” I say finally. “An army to command. Borders to secure. Enemies to track.”
“We all have responsibilities,” Griffin says quietly. “That’s not what I asked.”
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of the truth I’ve been avoiding. “She’s a liability I can’t afford.” The confession tastes bitter. “Once the mate bond is fully formed, her feelings, her safety, her needs will become my priority. Above my duty. Above the kingdom. Given how emotionally fragile she is—”
“You’re worried that this bond might distract you from your duties.”
It’s not a question. I don’t answer it.
“In my absence, Erik, you poured everything into the crown, into the kingdom. You had nothing left for yourself. Nothing but duty and honor and sacrifice.” He steps closer. “Now, fate hasoffered you something else. Something just for you. And you’re running from it like a coward.”
“I’m protecting her,” I insist.
“Are you?” Griffin challenges. “Or are you protecting yourself?”
I have no answer for him. We finish our drinks in silence, the question hanging in the air like smoke.
The training yard echoes with the sound of clashing steel and grunted exertion. I move between pairs of sparring soldiers, correcting stances and offering terse feedback. My focus should be on their form, their progress. Instead, my attention keeps drifting to the library windows overlooking the yard.
Is she watching? Does she even care where I am anymore?
The first week after her arrival, she sought me out constantly. Her eyes would track me across rooms, relief evident in her expression whenever I appeared. I was her anchor in a storm of unfamiliarity. But as I began to distance myself—making excuses, shortening our interactions, ensuring we were rarely alone—something in her changed. The seeking stopped. The relief faded. She accepted my withdrawal with the same quiet resignation with which she seems to accept everything, as if disappointment is the natural conclusion to hope.
It’s what I wanted. What I engineered. So why does it feel like failure?
“Commander, your stance is slipping.”
Elina’s voice breaks through my thoughts. She stands before me, practice sword raised, a knowing smirk on her face. I didn’t even realize we’d begun sparring.
“I’m fine,” I grunt, correcting my position and advancing with a series of quick strikes. Elina parries each one with practiced ease.
“Are you?” she asks, ducking under a swing and countering with a thrust I barely deflect. “Because you seem distracted lately. The men are starting to notice.”
I intensify my assault, forcing her to retreat several steps. “The men should worry about their own performance.”
