THEO’s POV.
My eyes opened slowly and landed on the wall. Everything was hazy at first until the blur cleared. I lifted trembling hands to my head and sat up, squeezing my eyes shut against the sharp pain that throbbed through my skull.
When it finally dulled, I blinked again and let my gaze wander. A faint rush of water echoed from somewhere nearby. I was lying in a richly polished chamber with stone floors gleaming, soft drapes whispering with the wind. Never had I seen such a place.
Back in my own Pack, Moon Whisper. I was nothing. I was seen as a useless Wolf. A shadow among every other living thing. No one ever cared about me. No one ever considered me as their own. Even the ones who sired me. My siblings were adored and preferred; I was forgotten.
Why?
Because I was the first male Omega. The very first in the Pack. And not just that alone. The very first in the royal bloodline. I was seen as an abomination. As a curse. As nothing that would bring nothing to the Pack but destruction.
When war loomed with the neighboring Shadow Moon Pack, the elders of the council instigated my father to execute me. My own birth father didn’t think for an hour before he passed the order.
The only person that cared about me, Maid Mithra, reached me before they did. I chose not to believe. I knew my father hated me but I couldn’t bring myself to believe that he would kill me.
I chose not to believe her, finding my way towards my father until I met the palace guards. They tried to capture me but Maid Mithra grabbed my hands, dragging me to the secret passageway behind the palace.
We were about to escape when my younger sister, who was a Luna but was born with the strength of an Alpha, crossed us and launched an attack.
A wolfless me couldn’t do anything. I was scared to the brim as I stepped back cowardly. Maid Mithra protected me before she transformed into her Wolf form and confronted my sister.
But she couldn’t last long. She couldn’t. But she managed to reach me and pushed me into the opening. I didn’t know what happened to her next but I found myself out of the palace with an army of guards behind me.
I had no choice but to run. To keep running. And days passed without food. I couldn’t continue. I’ve never been left on my own. I had wounds already. I couldn’t keep on moving. I sat and covered my head with my hands, tears flowing out of my eyes.
Until he found me. I couldn’t recall his voice clearly or the look in his eyes but I remembered the warmth of his arms, the quiet steadiness of his touch. He didn’t stay away. He didn’t call or assume I was a curse.
And now, I’ve found myself in this room.
My gaze drifted and I saw a picture frame at the edge of the table. My eyes lingered on it longer than I meant to.
He was carved from quiet storms—broad shoulders beneath a dark coat, the hint of a smirk playing on lips that looked far too cruel to be kind, yet far too soft to forget. His eyes, an icy shade of blue, stared through the glass like they could see right into me. It was dangerously calm.
Every line of his face spoke of discipline and dominance; the kind of man who didn’t have to raise his voice to own a room. Even in stillness, there was something wild about him. More like a power he carried like breath itself.
And yet… behind that cold perfection, I could almost see the ache he tried to hide, the loneliness that came with being confident.
Intriguing.
I got off the bed and reached where the frame was. I was about to touch the perfection on the frame when the rush of water stopped in the bathroom.
Quickly, I moved to the window side, staring into the peaceful night. Whoever was inside the bathroom would be out soon. But for the first time in my entire life, I felt peaceful. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t trembling about what might happen next.
The soft creak of the door sent a small shiver down my spine. The sound shouldn’t have made me nervous, yet it did. I could smell it before I turned around. It was the thick, musky scent that filled the air and wrapped around my lungs like smoke. It was impossibly warm.
I turned.
He stood there, water tracing paths down his skin, droplets sliding from his hair to his shoulders before falling away. A towel hung low around his hips, and light from the window caught the sheen of his body like gold. He looked different but powerful enough to mistake for anything ordinary.
Our eyes met.
For a heartbeat, the room fell silent. I could hear my own pulse, the soft patter of water still dripping from his hair, the whisper of his breath. His gaze swept over me slowly, and the air between us thickened until I forgot how to breathe.
He didn’t speak, and neither did I. But there was something in his eyes—a question, a pull, and a kind of hunger that mirrored the restless ache rising in my chest.
My throat went dry. And—
Something deep within me stirred. A warmth I hadn’t felt before, sharp and wild, unfurled beneath my skin. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t painful. It was something older, something primal. My body knew it even if I didn’t.
It wasn’t supposed to exist inside me. I had lived my whole life being told I was born without one. But now, it was there—awake, restless, pressing against my ribs.
My fingers trembled as I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself. I tried to look away, to stop staring at him, but I couldn’t. Every breath he took seemed to pull me closer, invisible strings drawing tight between us.