Claimed by the scarred Alpha

ÉTIENNE

"I forgot it."

"Hmmmm..." He sighed.

"I am sorry."

"That wife of yours," he said, "is to be managed. Not indulged." His eyes held mine with the steady focus of a man making a point he intended to make only once. "You followed her to a kitchen tonight. You defied me at my own table. That does not go unremarked."

"I only acted within pack law," I said. "But I apologize. You know I would never-"

"You acted within your feelings." He cut in flatly. "Which is a different thing entirely and considerably more dangerous for an Alpha. So no, I do not know that." He studied my face for a moment. "Your defiance tonight will not go unpunished."

I held his gaze and said nothing.

He turned away from me and looked back toward the dining room door, and then he raised his voice just enough to carry through it.

"Céline."

She appeared in the doorway.

Her face was composed in the way it always was. "Yes, father?"

"You said you wanted to prove yourself to this pack," Dorian said. "You wanted standing. You wanted to be useful." He looked at her with something that might have been consideration and might have been something colder dressed in its clothing. "Pack business is yours for a week."

Céline did not smile. She merely inclined her head once in respect and shock.

"Thank you, Father," she said.

Dorian walked away down the corridor without another word. His steps were careful and measured, the walk of a man conserving what the day had cost him.

I stood where he had left me and looked at Céline.

She looked back at me, and the expression on her face was one I could not fully read. With Céline, that was always the part that required the most attention.

"Congratulations," I said carefully.

"Yes," she said. "Isn’t it something?"

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then her shoulders shifted slightly, some of the rigid control slipping as her expression shifted almost imperceptibly.

A small crease appeared between her brows as she glanced in the direction Dorian had disappeared.

"I think..." she said slowly, lowering her voice, "I think Father may be having one of his episodes again."

My attention sharpened.

She let out a quiet breath.

"He doesn’t really mean it."

"No?"

Céline shook her head.

"He isn’t well. We all know that." Her voice was low and reasonable. "Tomorrow he’ll wake up, realize what he said, and this will quietly disappear. Father would never hand me that kind of authority."

The words came easily, but there was uncertainty underneath them. Hope, too. Dangerous hope.

"If that’s what you believe, then why do you look like you’re already planning tomorrow’s meetings?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Old habits, I guess."

"No."

Her expression stilled.

I folded my arms.

"Céline, listen carefully. He was clear-headed."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I do not know about that. What I do know is that he was angry."

"Yes."

"He was making a point."

"Yes."

"To you."

"Partly." I held her gaze. "But he meant every word."

The silence that followed felt heavier than the conversation deserved.

For the first time, genuine uncertainty crossed her face. "You’re serious."

"I am."

She looked toward the dining room door. The sounds of conversation drifted faintly through it.

"I’ve spent years asking for responsibility, and every time he found a reason to refuse."

I said nothing.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

Trusting Céline with pack affairs, even temporarily, was not a small gesture.

It was the sort of thing that shifted a family’s balance.

The sort of thing people remembered. The sort of thing people built futures around.

"He wouldn’t do that," she said quietly, though there was less conviction behind it now.

"He just did."

Her jaw tightened.

I could almost see her mind working through the implications.

The authority. The expectations. The scrutiny.

The enemies that came with both.

Finally, she looked back at me.

"What would you have me do?"

"Obey him."

The answer came immediately. With no hesitation and no room for interpretation.

Céline stared at me.

I continued before she could argue. "You wanted standing. He gave it to you."

"For a week."

"For a week."

Her laugh was short and humorless. "A week is nothing."

"A week is enough. Enough to succeed. Enough to fail. Enough to prove something. Enough to destroy something."

But she knew that as well as I did.

Céline looked down for a moment.

When she raised her head again, the uncertainty was gone.

In its place was the careful composure she wore whenever she reached a decision.

"Then I’ll do as he asked."

I nodded.

"And if he changes his mind tomorrow?"

"He won’t."

"You sound very certain."

"I am."

Because, for all his flaws, Dorian Valcourt did not issue orders and then pretend he hadn’t.

Not when pride was involved.

Not when the order itself had been meant as punishment.

He wanted to remind me never to forget my place. I was a replacement for the real thing. But I would never be the real thing, and though Dorian’s heart might deny that it was the truth. His yes could never do that.

Céline studied me for another long moment.

Then something softened in her expression.

"What?" I managed.

"You’re giving me advice."

"Well... maybe I’m trying to prevent a disaster."

That earned a small snort.

"Those aren’t always different things. It is just that for a moment, you reminded me of Theodore."

"Oh..."

"Do not worry," she chuckled again. "That is not a bad thing."

She then smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her sleeve.

"Very well. I’ll take charge of the pack business."

Her eyes flicked toward me.

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Father handed me your work for a week."

I smiled despite myself.

"Then for one week, Acting Luna Céline Beaumont, I suppose I answer to you."

"If that’s the case," she said, voice dry, "my first order is that you stop provoking Father in public."

I barked out a laugh.

"Céline."

"Did I lie?"

Neither of us smiled for long.

Because beneath the humor sat the reality of what had just happened.

Dorian had drawn a line.

And in doing so, he had elevated Céline.

Whether he intended it as a lesson, a test, or something more permanent remained to be seen.

But for the next week, the pack would be watching her.

And if Céline was half as ambitious as people believed, she would make certain they liked what they saw.