Damon
The frost on my window caught the morning light, spidering silver veins across the glass. I stood motionless in front of it, hands clasped tight behind my back, watching the courtyard below like a man waiting for battle–or for something worse.
My gaze locked onto her before I even knew I was looking.
Lila wasn’t doing anything remarkable. Just walking. Head down, coat tugged tight against the chill, the sharp wind tugging loose strands of her hair free from her braid.
But the moment I saw her, something inside me coiled and pulled tight; a tether catching tension. The bond.
I feel it now more than ever. Not a whisper. Not a suggestion. A truth. Every part of me knows it. I’ve stopped asking questions. She’s mine.
My jaw tightened. My breath fogged the glass. I should turn away. I tell myself that every morning. Every time I catch myself watching her, tracking her presence as I would when I map enemy movements.
Except she isn’t an enemy. She’s gravity. Unrelenting. And t. am losing my center.
I pull back from the window with a sharp breath and walk toward my desk like it’ll save me.
Papers sit in neat stacks, untouched. Intelligence reports, council notes, a half–written speech for the Solstice address. I pick up a random folder.
Trade agreements. Useless. I flip it open anyway.
The words blur, handwriting decorating the margins. But I can’t focus on what they say, only on the memory of her from dinner the other night.
She sat across from me, one knee bouncing softly beneath the table, bottom lip caught between her teeth. She was wearing a soft burgundy tunic, the one that made her look… touchable.
I grip the paper a little too tight, smudging the ink. The paper crinkles. I set it down.
My heart’s beating too fast.
Get it together.
But Zane is pacing under my skin now. He’s restless, teeth bared in the back of my mind, tail lashing with every step she takes outside.
Take her.
No, Zane.
She’s already ours. We’ve marked her.
It has to be her choice.
I dig my fingers into the edge of the desk until the wood groans beneath them.
Zane doesn’t understand patience. He doesn’t want to. He knows what I won’t say aloud: that I ache when I’m near her, that I haven’t slept right in days, that every part of me wants to finish the bond.
But I won’t force her. I won’t let instinct override consent. I’ve done too many things by force in this life. This won’t be one of them.
I take a step back. Deep breath. Another. I walk slowly to the window again.
And there she is. Standing just beyond the archway now, right at the edge of the courtyard. Still. Head turned slightly… up.
1/3
18:08 Sat 28 Jun
Chapter 1221
Looking at me.
The space between us evaporates. I can’t see her expression clearly, but I feel it. Still and sharp. She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t flinch. Just holds my ga steady and quiet, like she’s looking through me.
My pulse stutters. Even my wolf goes silent. Time seems to pause.
And then–Lila turns. Graceful. Controlled. Her braid catches the wind and flutters over her shoulder like a ribbon. She walks away.
I exhale so slowly it hurts.
That wasn’t rejection. But it wasn’t an invitation either. It was… a mirror. A similar turmoil inside her that’s inside me.
Maybe not exactly the same, but something. The bond hums between us like a live wire, and she’s not tugging it yet…but she hasn’t let it go either.
I watch her until she disappears, then force myself to turn away.
The tea on my desk has gone cold but I drink it anyway, thinking I need an outlet for this tangle of feeling
The training hall was the perfect solution with its creak of leather stretching over muscle, the low thump of fists striking the heavy sandbags in front of me. Each blow landed with precision, but not peace.
I wasn’t here to practice. I was trying not to lose my mind.
Sweat slicked down my spine, dampening my shirt. The cold stone walls did nothing to cool me.
My breath came harsh and fast, fogging in the air before vanishing. My hands stung with the repetition; knuckles bruised through the wraps. Still, I didn’t
stop.
Because Zane wouldn’t stop.
He flashed behind my eyes, restless and sharp. His growls were low and constant, a rumble that never fully faded. I could feel the press him just beneath my skin, muscles twitching, a predator that had nowhere to go.
She’s ours. He spat at me as I struck harder. You know it. So does she.
It’s not that simple, I told him. She hasn’t marked me. She hasn’t said the words.
Because you’re waiting like a coward.
I froze, hand mid–swing. My breath caught hard in my chest. The accusation burned.
I’m giving her space, I growled aloud, the words harsh and useless in the emptiness of the room. My voice echoed, bounced back at me with judgment.
You’re giving her doubt.
I snarled and drove my fist into the bag, this time hard enough that it rattled on its chain. My other hand followed–left, right, again–until the ache in my shoulders started to drown the ache in my chest.
1 welcomed it. Needed it. But Zane wasn’t satisfied.
He pressed against the edges of my control, claws dragging slow circles down the inside of my ribs. Finish the bond.
“No.” I grit out aloud.
She wants it as much as we do.
She deserves to choose it.
2/3
Chapter 122
The silence that followed was heavy. Then: If you wait too long, you’ll lose her.
I staggered back, chest heaving, arms limp at my sides. Sweat dripped from my jaw and hit the floor in quiet splashes.
I turned away from the sandbag and pressed my palm to the wall, grounding myself in the cold stone, trying to find something solid to ground me from the storm raging inside my body and mind.
I remembered her eyes, how they met mine across the courtyard, how steady they’d been. There was something there. Something unfinished. And if moved too fast, if I forced it…
She’d never forgive me.
Zane growled, low and guttural, but I could feel the edge of uncertainty even in him now. He knew I wasn’t wrong. We were both old enough to understand what regret felt like.
“I won’t be like the others,” I murmured to the stone. “I won’t from her what should be given freely.”
But the fear still sat heavy in my chest. Not fear of rejection. Fear that the longer I gave her time… the more reasons she’d find to walk away.
I shoved off the wall and crossed the training hall slowly, trying to shake the tension from my limbs. I rolled my Controlled my breathing. Rebuilt the Court mask.
shoulders back. Stretched my neck.
Zane didn’t speak again. But he watched. Waiting.
I didn’t need his words to feel the pressure.
Sooner or later, I would have to make a choice: let instinct take over and claim what was mine…or keep holding the door open, praying she walked through it on her own.
And I wasn’t sure which would cost me more.
AD
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