Chapter 124
Chapter 124
Lila
The invitation said seven o’clock, sharp. The palace had been a maze of surprises lately; most of them political, few of them pleasant. But this… this latt different.
The greenhouse doors stood open, a warm spill of candlelight flickering out across the frost–covered stone path. For a moment, I hesitated.
Moisture clung to my skin as I stepped through the archway, moonflowers bloomed around me, petals turned up toward the glass ceiling where the stars winked through frost–laced panes.
Dozens of lanterns hovered in the air–floating orbs cradled in enchanted vines, their flames low and golden, casting soft shadows across the garden walls.
At the far end of the space, a table waited. Simple. Round. Set for two.
And standing beside the table, dressed in charcoal gray and looking far too composed for someone surrounded by candlelight and flowers, was Damon.
His eyes softened when they met mine.
“You remembered,” I said, not moving any closer.
“I didn’t think you’d want a party, but I couldn’t let today go by without marking it.”
I let out a breath. “You were right, I don’t like parties.”
He walked around the table and pulled out one of the chairs with a quiet scrape. “Then enjoy the quiet evening… with me.”
I crossed the distance slowly, letting myself take it all in.
Damon didn’t speak while I sipped the cider. It tasted like tart plums and sweetness. When I finally looked up from the rim of my cup, he was watching
me with that stillness that unsettled me.
“What is this, really?” I asked.
“A dinner,” he said. “With me. For your birthday.”
“And the lanterns? The blanket?” I raised an eyebrow. “The moonflowers blooming in winter?”
His jaw ticked–barely. “I wanted it to feel like the first time we were here. Our first date, technically.”
I blinked. That night felt like a lifetime ago.
“I’ve never had anything like this,” I admitted, voice low. “No one’s ever…” I trailed off, unsure how much truth I wanted to give him.
Damon poured another cup of cider for me and one for himself, then settled back into his seat. He reached into his coat and pulled out something small -a worn leather strip, frayed at one edge. Tied to it was a chipped wooden bead, stained dark with age.
“I carved it when I was fifteen,” he said. “First winter I was allowed to patrol solo. I used to tie it to my wrist so I wouldn’t feel so… alone.”
I stared at it. “You? Alone?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t always a King.”
The vulnerability in his tone was unexpected. I reached forward and brushed my fingers over the edge of the bead. Warm from his hand. Smoothed by years of touch.
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Chapter 124
“You’re not alone now,” I whispered.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The candlelight danced between us. My wolf stirred lightly, but this time with curiosity.
Damon wasn’t asking for anything. He was just there. And I liked it. Him.
Hours later, the lanterns had burned low and the rest of the palace faded into silence. It felt like we were in our own little world.
We’d eaten in slow, comfortable silence after that first quiet story about his childhood. Then talked about anything and everything, the space between us shortening inch by inch.
I reached for my fourth cup of cider and our fingers brushed; something shifted in the air. The tension that had hummed quietly beneath the surface alt evening surged forward, hot and sudden.
His gaze dropped to my hand. Lingered.
My breath hitched and my skin felt too tight. Ruby stirred inside me with awareness. She waited, quiet but expectant, her paws planted at the edges of my mind.
Damon slowly turned his palm to meet mine. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until his thumb brushed across the back of my hand, gentle and
reverent.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said, voice low. “Not here. Not like this.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said before I could stop myself. “I don’t know how to let someone in without losing myself again,” I admitted. “I’ve spent so long just surviving.”
“And yet,” he said, shifting closer, “you’re still standing.”
That undid something in me. I stood, slowly, and faced him fully. The moonlight painted him silver: his cheekbones, his lashes, the edge of his jaw. The faintest shadow of stubble framed his mouth.
His expression wasn’t commanding. It wasn’t arrogant. It was open.
“I’ve never marked anyone,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to tonight either.”
“You marked me when I was dying.”
His jaw tightened, shame flickering behind his eyes. “And I’d undo it if I could. Not the marking, the way it happened. But if I’m honest, my wolf has wanted to mark you again since the moment you healed.”
I swallowed. And the space between us evaporated.
His hands came to my waist first, tentative and slow. My breath hitched as he stood, his forehead brushing mine, our noses nearly touching.
“Tell me no,” he said, voice barely a rasp. “And I’ll stop”
But I didn’t say stop. I whispered, “Yes.”
That was all he needed.
His mouth met mine like it was the first breath after drowning; controlled at first, then deeper, desperate. One of his hands slid up my back, the other tangled in my hair, steadying me as our bodies pressed closer.
Every point of contact sparked like lightning beneath my skin..
I clutched at his shirt, fingers twisting the fabric, dragging him down with me as my legs backed against the edge of the cushioned bench beneath the
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Chapter 124
greenhouse canopy.
Our wolves surged in tandem, the bond no longer a thread but swallowing everything else.
When his teeth grazed my neck, I didn’t flinch. I tilted my head in offering. But he didn’t bite. Instead, he kissed down my throat, reverent and low savoring every inch.
My body arched toward him instinctively, every nerve alert and aching.
The pressure of his hands at my waist, the soft hitch of his breath against my collarbone…it all felt unbearably intimate.
“I need you,” he whispered, voice raw.
“Yes,” I breathed. And the last of the distance between us vanished.
He lifted me, slowly and carefully, laying me down on the soft cushions, surrounded by pale moonflowers and flickering candlelight.
My fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt; his hands were steadier, slipping beneath my layers like he already knew the shape of me, had memorized it in his dreams.
There was no rush. No demands. Just the slow unraveling of tension that had bound us both for too long.
His skin was warm against mine, his mouth following the path of his hands: my shoulder, my ribs, my stomach. Every kiss felt like a promise.
And when he finally moved over me, aligning our bodies to join, the stretch and heat and pressure of him made my breath catch in my throat.
Damon stilled instantly, reading the shift in my breath, giving me a moment, his forehead resting against mine, eyes searching for permission.
“I’m sure,” I whispered.
And then we moved together, slow at first, like learning a song by heart. My hands gripped his shoulders, his name falling from my lips like prayer.
The pleasure built steadily, laced with something more than desire. A claiming. A coming home.
When his teeth grazed my neck, I tilted my head.
His bite wasn’t brutal. It was reverent. The heat of his breath, the pressure of his mouth, the slow sinking of fangs into skin… I felt everything. Pleasure.
Power.
Ruby howled once, deep and resounding, and then quieted into something steady.
Damon trembled above me, his breath heavy against my throat. “Lila…”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my arms holding him as tightly as he held me. My lips found his jaw, his temple, the corner of his mouth.
I felt the desire rising in me to return the mark, to seal it. But I held it back. I wanted the moment I marked him to be entirely mine.
“I feel it,” I whispered.
Dam
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