Darian sat alone in his chamber, the weight of silence pressing down on him like a physical force. The walls of the room, adorned with rich tapestries and regal paintings, felt like they were closing in. The soft flicker of candlelight cast long shadows, giving the room a gloomy, almost oppressive air. His usually sharp and controlled mind was now swirling with memories and emotions that he had long buried deep inside himself.
For a man who had been taught to control everything—his emotions, his desires, his very thoughts—this quiet, was almost suffocating.
He leaned back in the chair by the window, gazing out at the sprawling gardens below, though he could barely make out the shapes in the dim light. The view was something he had seen a thousand times, yet tonight, it felt different. The stillness, the quiet, echoed the emptiness inside him that he had been so good at ignoring.
His thoughts turned to the past, to the memories he had tried to bury beneath the walls he had built around himself. Memories that now, in this moment of stillness, came crashing back with an intensity he couldn't escape.
He remembered his childhood—the cold, the distance. The King had been a father to him in title alone. His training had been harsh and relentless. Every lesson was a lesson in dominance, in power. His father had not cared for love or affection. The King had raised him to rule, to be untouchable. But there had been no room for softness, no room for weakness.
When his mother had died, Darian had been too young to understand the depth of the loss. She had been a gentle Omega, beautiful and kind, a stark contrast to the hard, emotionless King. She had given Darian something his father never could—a glimpse of tenderness. But the King had never allowed that softness to flourish in his son. Darian had been taught from an early age that feelings were a weakness and that those who were weak would always be subjugated.
Her death had been a turning point, a moment when Darian's carefully crafted world began to crack. The King had never shown any emotion for her passing. Instead, he buried himself in his work, in the responsibilities of ruling the kingdom. But Darian had seen the way his father's eyes hardened, the way his shoulders tensed whenever he spoke of her. There had been no tears, no mourning. Just silence.
Darian had learned from that silence. He had learned that emotions were dangerous. Weakness, even the smallest hint of it, could be exploited. That's how the world worked. And the Prince had adapted.
But the truth was, he had never been able to forget her. She had been the one person who had shown him warmth and had loved him unconditionally. And when she was gone, it left an emptiness in him that nothing could fill. His heart had become like stone, impervious to affection or tenderness.
At least, that's what he had convinced himself.
But now, with Eden... with the blind Omega, something was stirring in him that Darian hadn't felt in years. A strange pull, a hunger that he couldn't fully understand. Every time he saw Eden—every time he touched him—he felt this… need, this desire to possess him, to claim him.
Darian frowned, rubbing his temple as if trying to dispel the thoughts. He didn't need to analyze it. He didn't need to know why Eden was different. It didn't matter. Eden was a means to an end. He was an object—someone to take to control.
The thought of Eden's helplessness, his blindness, made Darian's pulse quicken. There was something so pure about him, so untouched. Darian was determined to be the one to mark him, to break him down until there was nothing left but the need to submit to him completely.
But why did it feel like there was more to it? Why did the thought of Eden being so… untouched, so vulnerable, make something inside him ache? Was it just the need for control? Or was it something more?
The prince shook his head as if to clear the thought from his mind. No. He wouldn't allow himself to feel anything for the boy. Feelings were dangerous. They made people weak. And he couldn't afford to be weak.
"I will have him," Darian muttered to himself, his voice harsh. "I will make him mine, no matter what."
His gaze drifted back to the window, his mind still replaying moments with Eden—his quiet resistance, the way the Omega had trembled under his touch. It wasn't just physical. There was something about the way Eden looked at him, even in his blindness, that made Darian's heart race.
The thought of Eden's eyes—those blind, searching eyes—filled him with a strange mix of frustration and longing. He could feel Eden's emotions, even if the boy didn't speak. His silence, his defiance, only made Darian want him more.
He stood up abruptly, pacing across the room, his mind a jumble of conflicting thoughts. He couldn't deny it any longer. The truth was, he wanted Eden in a way that was more than just control. More than just possession. He wanted to see him bend. He wanted to break him and reshape him into someone who could never escape.
It was obsession.
It was something dangerous.
Something that terrified him.
But Darian didn't care. He had spent his whole life mastering control—over himself, over his kingdom, over every person who had ever dared to oppose him. He would have Eden. He would bend the boy's will to his own, whether Eden liked it or not.
The prince stopped pacing and looked out at the darkened sky, his face shadowed in the flickering candlelight. There, in the quiet, he felt the weight of his own darkness. His past had shaped him into this—into the man he had become. Cold. Calculating. Unforgiving.
And Eden was a part of that.
Eden was his next conquest. The Omega was his test, his proof that no one could escape the chains of his control.
Darian closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the silence to settle around him, then opened them again. His resolve hardened.
He had everything he needed. Eden was his.
And Darian would make sure that no one—not even Eden—could take that away from him.