Chapter 82: A Wolf’s Bitter Distance
Chapter 82: A Wolf’s Bitter Distance
(Celeste’s POV)
Still pressed against Alexander’s chest after my near–collapse, I felt his hands tighten slightly around my waist. His touch steadied me, but it sent sharp agony through my silver burns. I
fought the searing pain and the humiliation clawing at my chest.
I forced myself to pull back, my legs trembling under the effort. But his hold didn’t loosen. His
fingers gripped firmly, refusing to let me fall or move away.
“Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth, anger and discomfort bubbling beneath the
surface. My voice barely carried the force of a whisper, but it held all the defiance I could
summon.
Alexander didn’t move. His ice–blue eyes bore into me, unreadable. His white wolf surged
forward, its power filling the hallway. The familiar pine–frost scent around him grew thicker,
heavier, as if his wolf was determined to mark his presence.
Nearby, Nina’s silver–gray wolf whined softly, emanating fear and protectiveness. I could feel her unease, the slight tremor in her hands as she stepped closer, hesitant yet loyal. Her
warrior instincts clashed with her caution, knowing how dangerous Alexander could be if
provoked.
“My Lady,” Nina called softly, her voice tight. “We’re in Elder Eleanor’s sacred territory. He wouldn’t dare cause harm here.” Her tone tried to sound reassuring, but even she didn’t believe
her own words.
Alexander’s aura responded to her presence. His white wolf bristled, its dominance pressing down on everyone present. Even without speaking, he sent a clear warning: stay back.
I took a shallow breath, ignoring the fire burning through my veins, and tried again to pull away from his grasp. “I said, let go,” I repeated, my voice sharp this time. “I don’t need your help.”
His gaze didn’t waver. His hands didn’t loosen. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low. It hummed with quiet authority and a hint of danger. “Either you let me help you to Eleanor’s chambers, or I’ll carry you there myself.”
That tone. I hated that tone. The way his words carried the weight of someone used to being
obeyed.
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Chapter 82: A Wolfs Bitter Dista….
His challenge hung in the air. His wolf’s dominance wrapped around us like a vice. For a moment, even Nina’s breath hitched, her silver–gray wolf emitting a soft whimper under the suffocating energy Alexander exuded.
My wolf stirred weakly beneath the surface, more angry than fearful. But she too felt the weight of the white wolf who once guarded us so fiercely, back when his loyalty was something we could trust. Back when his arms catching me didn’t cut deeper than the silver
burns searing my skin now.
“No,” I said firmly, tilting my chin upward despite the exhaustion anchoring my body. I couldn’t
let him win. Not here. Not now. “I don’t need anything from you, Alexander.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance? Disbelief? I couldn’t tell. What I did see was the
faint tightening of his jaw, a tell that only I would probably notice. He didn’t like being defied,
that much was clear.
“You’re being reckless,” he said, his voice colder now. “You’re barely standing. Stop this prideful nonsense before you collapse again.”
“My condition is none of your concern,” I snapped, forcing myself to stand straighter. My knees
wobbled beneath me, but I locked them in place through sheer will. “You don’t need to carry
me, or help me. Ever.”
His grip finally loosened, but not before his ice–blue eyes narrowed, flashing a hint of silver as his wolf stirred angrily.
“Stubborn as ever,” he muttered under his breath, stepping back slightly. He didn’t offer more
support, but his presence remained right there, shadowing me, suffocating in ways it hadn’t
been before.
Nina quickly moved to my side, her hands hovering as if she feared touching me might hurt
further. Her silver–gray wolf remained tense, clearly aware of Alexander’s growing frustration.
“My Lady, are you sure-”
“I’m fine, Nina,” I interrupted, making my voice steady even as the dizziness from the poisoning tugged at my mind. “This distance between us is appropriate now,” I added, throwing the biting
remark directly at Alexander.
His white wolf bristled, its dominance flaring again with renewed intensity. For just a split
second, he let out a breath that sounded almost like a bitter laugh.
“Appropriate, is it?” His voice cut through the space between us like a blade. “Does the future royal mate think I’d compromise her claim? That’s what you’re worried about? Marcus’s fragile
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Chapter 82: A Wolf’s Bitter Dista….
ego?”
The mockery in his tone stabbed harder than I’d anticipated. My wolf flinched, and my scars
burned as if in response. Every fiber of me wanted to lash out, to fling back something equally
sharp. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Instead, I maintained an icy silence, my gaze drilling straight into his, refusing to let myself
falter.
He stepped closer, too close, until his pine–frost scent enveloped me again. My breath hitched
involuntarily as memories clawed their way up. The way that scent used to calm my wolf after a long run. The way it used to signify safety. Home.
Now, it only felt like a betrayal. A painful reminder of what was lost.
“You always did let your pride get in the way,” he said, soft yet biting. “I wonder, Celeste. What
hurts more? The silver burns I can see… or the ones you refuse to admit exist?”
His words hit their mark, scraping against brittle walls I thought I’d fortified. But I didn’t let my
expression shift. My wolf stirred weakly, keening beneath the surface, but I remained still.
When I finally spoke, my voice was colder than frost, every word deliberate and sharp. “Thank
you, Beta Alexander, for your unwanted concern. But as you can see, I’m capable enough to
continue without your assistance.”
Formality. It was the only shield I had left.
His jaw tightened again, and for a moment, I thought he might argue, might push his point
further. But then his gaze shifted. Something cold and distant flickered back into those
ice–blue eyes. His wolf retreated, leaving behind only the stoic Beta who’d perfected hiding
anything resembling emotion.
I turned sharply, not leaving him the chance to say more. Every step toward Eleanor’s
chambers seemed heavier than the last, but I refused to let myself stumble again. Not in front
of him.
Then it came. His voice, familiar and quiet, but laced with the weight of something dangerous.
“Little Moon.”
I stopped mid–step. The nickname froze me in place, my breath catching before I could stop it.
My wolf whimpered softly, stirred by memories I desperately wanted to forget. Memories of full moon runs, of laughter, of a white wolf who would always, without fail, place himself between me and danger.
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It was unguarded, raw, and his voice carried that same weight it used to. Back when it meant
everything.
“Marcus is more dangerous than you know,” he said. His tone was subdued but intense, each
word clipped. “His cruelty isn’t just rumor or hearsay. It’s a fact. Ask any warrior wolf–he’s
broken more claimed mates than I care to count.”
My hands clenched at my sides, nails digging into tender palms. The scars on my back
burned brighter, as though they wanted to rebel against the words carving into my memory.
“You cannot accept his mate claim,” Alexander said, quieter now. The steel in his voice gave
way to something else–something closer to desperation.
wanted to laugh. Truly laugh. The hypocrisy of hearing him say such things while fully intending to mate with Scarlett almost brought the sound to my lips.
But I swallowed it down. Laughter wouldn’t shield me now.
Without turning, my voice came out steady, deliberate. “Very well, Beta Alexander,” I said, each syllable cold and cutting. “If you break your engagement with Scarlett, I’ll reject Marcus’s
claim.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
I didn’t need to turn around to know the weight of his stare or the shift in his posture. We both
knew the truth. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
Pack politics. Victoria’s scheming. Whatever reasons he might have had, they didn’t matter.
Alexander Steele had made his choice long ago.
