POV Dominic
Eva laughs at something Sebastian says, and my wolf tears at my insides like a caged animal.
I stand at my usual post near the courtyard entrance, spine rigid, hands clasped behind my back, the perfect picture of professional detachment.
But beneath the surface, I'm coming apart. Every smile she gives the golden prince feels like claws raking down my chest. Every casual touch of his hand on her arm makes my vision blur with amber.
I've watched her be courted by four princes for days now. Watched Matteo circle her like prey, his dark eyes tracking her movements with predatory focus.
Watched Soren's intensity burn holes through her from across every room. Watched Khalil's gentle attention, his calming presence that makes her shoulders relax in ways that twist something sharp in my gut.
And Sebastian, golden, charming, genuine Sebastian, who makes her laugh like she hasn't laughed in years.
Each interaction is a wound I can't stop reopening.
My wolf paces beneath my skin, restless and agitated, demanding I cross the courtyard and tear Sebastian's hand away from her. Demanding I stake my claim in front of everyone—the princes, the pack, her father.
Let them see. Let them know she's mine.
But she's not mine. She never has been. She never can be.
The thought doesn't stop the wanting.
A memory surfaces unbidden, pulling me away from the present.
I'm twelve years old, gangly and awkward, all elbows and oversized feet I haven't grown into yet. The evening air is warm, thick with the scent of summer roses, and fireflies drift through the garden like fallen stars.
Eva is eight, small and fierce, chasing the glowing insects with determined concentration.
Her dark hair streams behind her as she runs, and even then, before I understood what the feeling meant, I knew she was special.
There was something about her that made my chest tight, that made my wolf-pup stir with protective instincts I couldn't name.
"Nic! Nic, look!" She holds up cupped hands, triumphant, a soft glow pulsing between her fingers. "I caught one!"
"Careful," I call out, already moving toward her. "Don't squeeze too hard or…"
She trips.
One moment she's running toward me, the next she's sprawling across the gravel path, palms and knees scraping against stone. The firefly escapes, forgotten, as Eva's cry of pain cuts through the evening quiet.
I'm at her side in seconds, kneeling in the gravel, heart pounding. "Let me see. Eva, let me see."
Her knee is bleeding—not badly, but enough to mix with her tears. She looks up at me with those green eyes, so big in her small face, and my chest cracks open.
"It hurts, Nic."
"I know." I turn around, offering my back. "Climb on. I'll carry you."
She wraps her arms around my neck, her weight barely noticeable, and I stand carefully. Her tears are wet against my shoulder as I start walking back toward the palace.
"I'll always protect you," I tell her, the words coming from somewhere deep and certain. "That's my job, okay? I'm older and stronger, and I'll always keep you safe."
"Promise?" Her voice is small, muffled against my shirt.
"Promise."
The memory fades, but the promise remains—calcified into something deeper over the years, transforming from childish vow into the defining purpose of my existence.
I've built my entire life around keeping Eva safe. Every training session, every patrol, every skill I've honed has been in service of that promise.
But I never accounted for needing to protect her from my own heart.
"Dominic?"
Her voice pulls me back to the present. Eva stands before me, having crossed the courtyard while I was lost in memory. Sebastian is nowhere in sight—retreated to whatever golden-boy activities occupy his afternoons.
"Your Highness." I straighten, falling into formality like armor. "Is everything alright?"
"Walk with me to the library?" She tilts her head, a gesture so familiar it aches. "I need to escape the sunshine and everyone's watching eyes for a while."
I should decline. Should cite patrol duties, responsibilities, anything to maintain the distance that keeps us both safe. Instead, I hear myself say, "Of course."
The corridors are quiet at this hour, most of the household occupied elsewhere. Our footsteps echo against marble floors, a rhythm I've memorized over years of walking beside her.
The silence between us is comfortable—the kind that comes from knowing someone so well that words become optional.
Then our hands brush.
Accidental. Incidental. The barest whisper of skin against skin.
Electricity shoots through my veins like lightning, and my wolf surges against its chains with a howl that reverberates through my bones.
I feel Eva stiffen beside me, feel the sharp intake of her breath, and I know she felt it too.
She stops walking.
I should keep moving. Should pretend nothing happened, maintain the professional distance that defines our relationship. But my feet root themselves to the floor, and when Eva turns to face me, I can't look away.
Something shifts in her green eyes. Something questioning. Vulnerable. Wanting.
"Nic." My name is barely a whisper on her lips.
The air between us grows thick, charged with years of suppressed longing. My wolf howls to close the distance, to claim what it has always known was his.
Eva's scent wraps around me, familiar and intoxicating, though changed lately in ways that trouble me, and I feel myself leaning closer, drawn by invisible gravity.
Eva's breath catches. Her lips part. For one suspended moment, everything else disappears—the princes, the courtship, her father's impossible demands.
There is only her face inches from mine, her eyes searching my own, the devastating possibility of what could happen if I just...
Duty crashes back like a wave of ice water.
I step away, putting distance between us that feels like miles. "I should… The patrols… I need to check the eastern perimeter."
The words come out strangled, wrong, nothing like the smooth professionalism I've cultivated for years.
Eva's expression flickers, hurt, confusion, something that looks like rejection, before she masks it behind the composed princess facade I've watched her build since childhood.
"Of course." Her voice is steady, betraying nothing. "Thank you for walking with me."
She continues toward the library alone.
I watch her go, my heart hammering against my ribs, my wolf snarling with frustrated rage. The moment she disappears around the corner, I turn and slam my fist into the nearest wall.
The pain is grounding. Clarifying.
She's a princess. The heir to the most powerful pack in the territory. Her future is alliances and politics and mating bonds with wolves who can offer more than a low-ranking bodyguard ever could.
And I'm nothing. Common blood. No status. No pack standing. I'm staff, as her father so coldly reminded me. Not even worth acknowledging in decisions about her future.
Wanting her is foolish.
Loving her is dangerous.
But I've never been able to stop.
Not when she was eight years old chasing fireflies. Not when she was eighteen and I realized the tightness in my chest had a name. Not now, watching princes compete for a woman I would burn the world to protect.
I straighten, flexing my bruised knuckles, and resume my patrol.
Some promises can't be kept. Some loves can't be spoken.
And some wolves are destined to want what they can never have.