BEAST OF THE NORTH

He carried me for what felt like hours.

The snow bit my skin and the wind cut through my torn dress, but his arms were warm. Solid. Like a stone that had learned how to be gentle. I hated that I noticed it. I hated that part of me wanted to lean in closer.

I was not supposed to want comfort from anyone. Not after tonight.

"Put me down," I whispered. My voice was weak. "I can walk."

It was a lie. My legs would have collapsed after three steps.

He didn't answer. He didn't even look down. Just kept walking through the trees like he knew exactly where he was going. Like the darkness didn't scare him.

"Who are you?" I tried again. "Where are you taking me?"

This time he did look down. Those storm-cloud eyes met mine for one second. And I saw it. Not pity. Not disgust. Something else. Something I didn't have a name for.

"Safe," he said. One word. Then his eyes were forward again.

Safe. The word felt foreign in my mouth. I hadn't been safe in years. Not really. Not since my wolf refused to wake up and my parents started looking at me like I was a mistake.

The trees got thicker. Colder. Then the forest opened up and I saw it.

A castle. Black stone, tall towers, windows glowing like eyes in the dark. It looked old. Angry. Like it had been standing there for a hundred years just waiting for something to die.

My stomach dropped. "This is your home?"

He didn't answer. Just carried me up the stone steps. The doors were huge. Iron. They opened before we even touched them.

Inside, it was warm. Firelight danced on the walls. The smell of wood and something else... something wild and clean... filled the air.

Servants stopped and stared as he walked past. Their eyes went wide when they saw me. Bruised. Bleeding. In his arms.

One girl gasped. "My lord... is she..."

"Get the healer," he cut her off. Voice sharp like a blade. "Now."

The girl ran.

He took me up a staircase that spiraled higher and higher. My head spun. The rejection mark pulsed with every step, like it was warning me. This is dangerous. This is wrong._

Maybe it was. But I was too tired to care.

He kicked open a door and carried me to a bed that was bigger than the one I shared with Bella my whole life. He set me down gently. Too gently for a man who looked like he killed people for breakfast.

Then he just stood there. Watching me. Like he was waiting for me to say something.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin. My hands were shaking. "You still haven't told me your name."

For a long time, he was quiet. The fire cracked behind him. Outside, the wind howled.

Finally, he spoke. Slow. Heavy. Like each word cost him something.

"Damien."

Damien.

The name hit me like ice water. I knew that name. Every wolf in every pack knew that name. They whispered it to scare pups who wouldn't sleep.

Alpha King Damien. The Beast of the North. The man who killed three Alphas in one night and took their lands before sunrise. The man who hadn't taken a mate in 200 years because every she-wolf who got close to him ended up dead.

I sat up too fast. Pain exploded in my ribs. "You... you're him."

He didn't deny it. He just watched me with those storm eyes.

"Why me?" The question tore out of me. "I'm nothing. I'm wolf-less. Kyle rejected me in front of everyone. I'm broken, Damien. Why would the Beast of the North want broken trash?"

Damien stepped closer to the bed. One step. Then another. Until he was standing right beside me.

He reached out and tilted my chin up with two fingers. His touch was cold. But it didn't feel cruel.

"You are not nothing," he said. Voice low, certain. Like he was stating a fact. "I felt you. In the forest. When the moon called you."

My breath caught. "That's impossible. I don't have a wolf."

His thumb brushed over the rejection mark on my neck. The burn came back, but different this time. Not pain. Heat. Like something sleeping under my skin had heard its name.

Damien's eyes darkened. "Then we will wake her."

Before I could ask what he meant, the door burst open. A healer rushed in with herbs and bandages. Damien stepped back, and the cold came with him.

But his last words before he turned away stayed in my chest:

"You are not trash, Selena. You are mine."

The door closed behind him.

And I sat there in the bed of the most feared man alive, wondering if I had just been saved... or claimed by something worse than rejection.