8. Dorian
EIGHT
DORIAN
Dorian woke up the next morning like a man who'd spent the night battling himself in a war he couldn't win.
His large frame sprawled across tangled sheets, muscles coiled with residual tension from hours of restless torment.
Sleep had been nothing more than a cruel joke—every time he'd closed his eyes, he'd felt Harper's soft mouth moving against his, tasted the sweetness of her surrender before she'd fled like he was poison instead of salvation.
He dragged both hands through his dark hair, the motion rough and frustrated.
His wolf prowled restlessly, a constant reminder of what had transpired by the fireplace.
That kiss—that perfect, devastating kiss—had ignited something primal and fierce inside him, something that refused to be contained or reasoned with.
The mate bond pulsed through his system like a charged wire, stronger now after their connection. His wolf had pressed so close to the surface during that kiss that Dorian had nearly claimed what belonged to him with an intensity that would have terrified Harper completely.
She is ours, his wolf snarled, pacing behind his ribs. Claim her. Mark her. Make her understand.
But the memory of Harper's face when she'd pulled away—wide-eyed and vulnerable and utterly panicked—cut through his wolf's demands like a blade.
She hadn't been afraid of him exactly, but of something deeper.
Something that made her run instead of stay, made her call their perfect moment a mistake.
Dorian rolled out of bed with a growl, his bare feet hitting the cold hardwood. He couldn't afford this distraction. Couldn't let his personal desires override his responsibilities, no matter how his wolf clawed at his restraint.
Lila comes first, he reminded himself firmly, pulling on dark jeans and a flannel shirt with mechanical precision.
Harper's breakthrough with Lila yesterday was the first real progress we've seen in months.
He can't be the reason Harper leaves. Because if Harper fled now—if his inability to control himself around his fated mate drove her away—Lila would retreat back into that shell of trauma and fear.
His sister had actually smiled last night, and had agreed to see her friends.
That fragile hope was worth more than his wolf's demands.
Even if denying the mate bond felt like slowly dying.
Dorian made his way through the quiet corridors of the estate, his footsteps muffled on the runner carpets he'd installed years ago.
The familiar scents of home—wood polish, coffee brewing in the kitchen, the lingering woodsmoke of last night's fire—should have comforted him.
Instead, he was tormented further by Harper's jasmine and rain scent threading through everything, marking his space as surely as if she'd claimed it.
Professional boundaries, he decided grimly. Distance. Let Harper do her job without me hovering.
When he reached Lila's room, surprise stopped him short. Her door stood open—actually open—for the first time in months. The sight sent a rush of relief through his chest so powerful it nearly staggered him.
Harper did that. In one session, she reached my sister in ways other therapists couldn't.
Lila sat cross-legged on her bed, sketching something in a notebook, the morning light streaming bright through her windows. She looked up when his shadow fell across her doorway, and Dorian caught a glimpse of something he hadn't seen since before the attack—genuine contentment.
"Morning," she said, her voice carrying none of the brittle tension that had become her default.
"Morning." Dorian leaned against the doorframe, fighting the urge to hover protectively. "I'm heading into town to work with Marty today. Reconstruction jobs."
Lila's pencil paused on the paper. "You're leaving? During my session with Harper?"
The question held layers—surprise, but also something that might have been approval. As if his absence might actually be welcome.
"Harper doesn't need me hovering while she works.
" Dorian pulled his truck keys from his pocket and tossed them onto Lila's desk.
The metal clinked against the wood with finality.
"You can take my truck later when you meet up with Sophie and Courtney.
Harper will drive and supervise, but don't leave town limits. And Lila—"
"Be safe, I know." But she was smiling as she said it, another real smile that transformed her entire face.
Dorian studied his sister for a long moment, seeing echoes of the vibrant girl she'd been before trauma stole her light. "I can't believe I'm actually letting you do this," he admitted roughly.
Lila set down her pencil and met his gaze directly. "What did Harper say to make you change your mind?"
The question hit deeper than it should have. Harper had done more than convince him to let Lila see her friends—she'd made him realize how his protective instincts had become a cage.
"She told me it was important for you to stay connected with your friends," Dorian said carefully. "I'm sorry I didn't realize that until now. Sorry I made you feel like you couldn't."
"It's not all your fault." Lila's voice went soft, vulnerable. "I shut my friends out because it was easier that way. Less complicated than explaining why loud noises made me jump or shadows made me have a panic attack. Less complicated than explaining why my brother was beyond overprotective."
The admission gutted him. His fierce, artistic sister had been shrinking herself to manage his fears. The realization felt like taking claws to the chest.
"You don't have to make yourself smaller for my sake, Lila." His voice came out rough.
Before the conversation could strip him completely bare, Dorian pushed away from the doorframe. If he stayed much longer, he'd start talking about Harper, about mate bonds, about how thoroughly one woman had dismantled eighteen years of careful control in less than three days.
"Enjoy your time with your friends," he said instead, already backing toward the stairs.
What is happening to me?
The thought followed him as he strode through the estate and out into the crisp mountain morning. He was cracking, coming apart at the seams, and he couldn't tell if it was the stress of holding everything together for too long or Harper systematically demolishing every wall he'd built.
Maybe it was realizing that his control hadn't protected anyone—it had just isolated them all.
Dorian chose to walk the few miles into town, hoping the cold air and physical exertion would clear his head. But with each step, his wolf grew more agitated, more demanding.
Go back. Claim what's ours. Make her understand.
"She's not ready," Dorian growled aloud, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. "And I can't lose her. Not when Lila needs her."
Even if denying his wolf's demands felt like slowly bleeding out, he'd endure it. He had to.
His pack and Lila were counting on him to hold everything together.
Hours later, the rhythmic pounding of hammers against damaged wood should have been therapeutic. Instead, each strike felt like another reminder that Dorian's carefully constructed world was crumbling faster than he could repair it.
He drove another nail into the siding of Mrs. Murphy's bakery with more force than necessary, the impact reverberating up his arm. Three months after the attack, half the businesses on Main Street still bore scars—replaced windows, damaged siding, landscaping in various stages of repair.
Just like his pack. Just like himself.
"Easy there, Alpha." Marty's voice carried from the ladder beside him, where his Beta was meticulously replacing damaged trim work. "That poor nail didn't do anything wrong."
Dorian grunted, positioning another piece of siding. The physical labor usually grounded him, gave his wolf something constructive to channel its restless energy into. Today it felt like trying to hold back a dam with his bare hands.
Harper.
Her name echoed through his thoughts like a prayer and a curse.
The memory of her soft mouth and talented tongue, the way she'd melted into him for those perfect seconds before reality crashed back—it was driving him insane.
His wolf prowled fiercely, demanding he return to the estate immediately and claim what belonged to them.
"You know," Marty continued conversationally, "my Sarah was telling me about this new recipe she wants to try. Something with cinnamon and apples. Says it reminds her of her grandmother's kitchen."
Dorian's hammer paused mid-swing. Marty rarely talked about his mate unless something was bothering him—or unless he was trying to make a point.
"The thing about mates," Marty pressed on, his tone deceptively casual, "is they have a way of making everything else fade into background noise. Sarah could be reading the phone book, and I'd rather listen to her than anyone else's profound wisdom."
The siding cracked under Dorian's next strike. He cursed under his breath, tossing the ruined piece aside.
"What's wrong with you today?" Marty climbed down from his ladder, his sandy brown hair catching the afternoon sunlight. "You've been more brooding than usual. More exhausted too, if that's even possible."
Dorian should deflect. Should give his standard response about pack business and territorial concerns. Should maintain the emotional distance that had served him well for eighteen years.
Instead, he found himself setting down his hammer and meeting his Beta's concerned gaze.
"You know Lila's new counselor. Harper."
"Yeah, what about her?" Marty's expression shifted to mild curiosity. "Is she working out, or have you decided to send her away like all the others?"
The question hit deep. Dorian had sent away four therapists and two healers in the past two months—politely but firmly. None of them had understood Lila's trauma, none had been able to reach past her walls. None had made his sister smile the way Harper had in just two days.
"It's more complicated than that."
Marty's eyebrows rose. "How so?"
Dorian dragged his hand through his dark hair. "I can't send Harper away because she's my fated mate."
The words hung in the crisp mountain air like a confession.
"She's what?"
"You heard me."
"Your sister's human therapist is your fated mate?" Marty's voice climbed an octave. "How the hell—when did—"
"The mate bond activated two days ago when I shook her hand." Dorian's jaw clenched at the memory. "And last night we... may have kissed."
Marty stared at him for a moment, then let out a low whistle. "Wow, Alpha. You really stepped in it this time."
'Stepped in it' didn't begin to cover the magnitude of this disaster. His wolf snarled at the dismissive phrase, but Dorian forced himself to remain still.
"Does Lila know?" Marty asked, genuine concern coloring his expression.
"No. But she'll figure it out soon enough. She's too perceptive not to notice."
"Are you going to tell Harper?"
The question Dorian had been avoiding slammed into him with brutal force.
Tell Harper that she was bound to him by forces beyond human understanding?
That his wolf had claimed her as mate before she'd even stepped foot in his estate?
That every instinct he possessed demanded he claim and mark and protect her from a world that had already hurt her too much?
"I don't know." His voice came out too rough. "Lila's finally responding to treatment. Harper seems to be getting through to her in ways no one else could. I can't mess that up right now."
Marty studied him with those too-perceptive brown eyes. "So you're just going to suffer in silence? Pretend the mate bond doesn't exist while she's living under your roof?"
"It's not about what I want." The words tasted bitter. "It's about what's best for Lila. For the pack."
"And what happens when Harper figures it out on her own? Because she will, Dorian. Humans might not understand the mate bond intellectually, but they feel it. Especially when it's this strong."
Dorian's hands clenched into fists at his sides. He didn't need Marty pointing out the obvious—that Harper had felt something powerful enough to make her flee last night. That the connection between them was growing stronger with every passing hour.
"Look," Dorian said finally, "you can't tell anyone about this. And tonight, I need your help."
"With what?"
"Harper's taking Lila and her friends out. I need you to follow them. Make sure they're safe. If anything suspicious happens—anything at all—you contact me immediately."
Marty nodded slowly. "I've got your back. But Dorian?" His expression grew serious. "You better figure this out soon, before it gets any more complicated than it already is."
Dorian didn't respond. Of course he knew he needed to figure this out. The obvious choice was simple: push his needs aside like he'd done since he was seventeen. Keep his distance from Harper. Focus on duty and leadership and protecting everyone who depended on him.
His wolf's response was immediate and violent, clawing at his restraint with savage fury.
How are you going to do that when she's under the same roof? it snarled. When her scent fills every room? When she looks at you like she can see straight through you?
Dorian had no answer. For the first time in eighteen years of leadership, he was completely, utterly lost.