Chapter 7 Whispers of Obsession
Damien’s POV
I feel it before I see it. Someone’s hand on her wrist, and something in my chest goes off like a struck bell.
I find the source a second later. A young warrior named Kael, blocking her path at the tables, his fingers wrap around her wrist like it belongs to him. Brie keeps her head down, balancing the tray, not pulling away. That stillness costs her something. I know it now.
I lean against a thick oak tree, my fingers digging into the rough bark until the wood gives way under my nails.
Her movements are fluid, graceful, yet she moves as if she is trying to occupy as little space as possible.
Kael laughs. His hand lingers on her wrist and his fingers brush against the sensitive skin I touched only yesterday.
Before my mind can catch up to my body, I cross the clearing in two seconds. My boots hit the dirt with light thuds Kael does not hear.
He leans closer to Brie, his mouth opening to say something that makes her flinch.
“Let go of her.”
My voice sounds foreign, low and cold. Not the voice of an Alpha heir. The growl of a predator.
Kael spins around and his grin flattens. He drops her wrist as if it is hot iron. “Alpha Heir Damien, I was just... she almost spilled the ale.”
“I said let her go.” I step closer into his space, my shadow falling over him. I feel the heat of it rising in my chest and it does not stop.
Kael steps back, his hands raised in surrender. “Easy, man. It’s just an omega. You’re acting like I insulted your own blood.”
I reach out, grab the front of his tunic and shove him hard against the side of the table. Cups clatter to the floor, splashing drinks across the dirt.
A hush spreads through the nearby group of dancers. The fiddler stops mid-note.
“She is not just anything,” I say, my face inches from his. “Keep your hands off her. Do you understand me?”
Kael’s eyes go wide, reflecting the flickering lantern light. “I understand. I hear you.”
I shove him away and he stumbles back, tripping over his own boots before scrambling into the crowd. I stand there with my chest heaving, listening to the sudden murmurs of the surrounding pack.
“Did you see that?”
“He nearly tore his throat out over an omega.”
“Is the heir losing his mind?”
Their whispers reach me but I ignore them, my gaze locked on the spot where Brie disappears into the darkness behind the kitchens.
“Damien.”
The voice is cool and sharp as ice. My mother, Luna Agnes, stands a few feet away. She wears a gown of deep emerald silk, her posture carrying the particular stillness of someone who has never needed to raise her voice to be obeyed.
She does not look at the mess on the ground or the terrified warriors. She looks only at me.
“Walk with me,” she says.
I know what this is going to be about but I follow her anyway.
We walk away from the lights, toward the edge of the woods where the shadows grow long and thick. She does not stop until the noise of the festival is nothing more than a faint pulse in the distance.
She turns to face me. “Why are you making a spectacle of yourself?”
“He was touching her,” I mutter, crossing my arms to hide the fact that my hands are still trembling.
“She is an omega, Damien,” she says, her voice devoid of sympathy. “If you want to protect the weak, go hunt for the infirm. Do not pick a fight with a warrior over someone who holds no rank.”
“It wasn’t about rank.”
She takes a step closer, her eyes narrowing. “Then tell me what it is about. Because everyone at that party thinks they know what it is about and it will soon be branded an obsession. The nobles are laughing behind your back, whispering that the future Alpha has lost his senses over a girl who doesn’t even know who her own parents are.”
I look down at my feet. The dirt is damp and cool. “I don’t care what they say.”
“You should,” she snaps. “This should be the last time you act out of turn over something so small. Now come. I want to introduce you to a girl who is as beautiful as the moon itself.”
I clench my jaw. “I don’t want to meet anyone.”
Mother’s expression does not change. If anything, the coldness in her eyes deepens.
“You don’t have a choice.”
She turns without waiting for my response, fully expecting me to follow. She always expects obedience, and tonight is no different. I let out a slow breath through my nose before falling into step behind her.
The festival swallows us again.
The laughter, music, and clinking cups all return as though nothing happened, but I can still feel eyes following me. Conversations hush whenever I pass. Warriors who witnessed what I did whisper behind raised hands, pretending not to stare.
Mother leads me toward a group of finely dressed nobles standing beneath strings of glowing lanterns. Their embroidered silks and polished jewelry catch the firelight, making them look almost untouchable.
Standing among them is a young woman.
She is undeniably beautiful. Long black hair spilling over her shoulders, threaded with tiny moonstone beads that shimmer every time she moves. Her pale blue gown fits her perfectly, and when she smiles, several nearby warriors seem to forget how to breathe.
Mother’s lips curve into a satisfied smile.
“Damien,” she says. “I’d like you to meet Lady Lori of the Silver Moon Pack.”
Lori dips into a graceful curtsy before lifting her eyes to mine.
“It is an honor to finally meet the future Alpha of Snowdon Pack,” she says warmly.
I force myself to nod and smile. “The honor is mine.”
My mother watches me say it. She knows what a convincing performance looks like. She is checking whether this is one.
