Chapter 56
"You shouldn't be tiring yourself talking so much," Calder continued, his eyes still fixed on Elias rather than me. "You need rest. I'll help you back inside."
Elias raised his hands in mock surrender, standing slowly. "Easy, Alpha. I'm not kidnapping her. We were just talking."
Calder's eyes narrowed. "You've done enough."
Elias smiled like he found the whole thing amusing. "Touchy. Maybe next time I'll bring pastries instead of tea."
"Maybe next time, you won't come near her," Calder said, his voice low but sharp.
The air around us grew thick. I felt it—his dominance, his possessiveness. It wrapped around me like a stormcloud, shielding me and suffocating me at the same time.
Elias took a step back, still grinning. "Right. Message received." Then, before turning away, he added with a wink, "You should learn how to share, Calder."
Calder didn't respond. He just stood there, tall and silent, watching until Elias disappeared around the corner.
I exhaled, only then realizing I'd been holding my breath. "You scared him off."
"Good."
"Calder—" I reached out, touching his hand. He didn't flinch, but I felt how tightly wound he was. "You don't have to be jealous."
He finally looked at me, and what I saw in his eyes wasn't just jealousy—it was fear. Worry. Longing.
"I almost lost you," he murmured. "And he—he was making you laugh. Like nothing ever happened. Like you weren't nearly ripped from me."
His words tightened something deep in my chest.
"You didn't lose me," I said gently, lacing my fingers with his. "I'm here. With you."
His hand squeezed mine, almost too tightly, like he was afraid I might slip away if he didn't hold on hard enough.
"I know it's stupid," he muttered. "But the idea of anyone else getting close to you—"
"It's not stupid," I said softly. "It means you care."
I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. "But you don't have to push people away. Elias isn't a threat. He's a friend. You don't have to prove anything to him."
His silence was heavy, thoughtful.
Then, with a reluctant sigh, Calder pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I just can't stand the idea of you laughing with someone else. Not after everything."
I looked up at him, tilting my head with a small smile. "Then you'll have to make me laugh more."
For a moment, his expression cracked, and something softer slipped through.
"I can do that," he murmured.
I nodded toward the tea. "But next time, bring the tea yourself."
He gave a low laugh—rare and rough—and then he kissed me.
There was no one else around. Just the wind, the warmth of the sun, and the thrum of the bond between us, steady and strong.
He kissed me.
He didn't just kiss me; he consumed the air between us. The impact wasn't soft—it was a sudden, necessary pressure, erasing the lingering chill of his anger and fear. His mouth was fierce, demanding proof.
His hands, hard and warm, left the side of my face and moved quickly, sliding beneath my hair to cup the back of my skull. It was a gesture of complete control, tilting my head back, pinning my focus solely on him. I could feel the tremor in his fingers, the last shudder of the adrenaline leaving his system.
My own hands went immediately to his jacket, gripping the leather so tightly my knuckles ached. I leaned into him, seeking not just contact, but weight. I needed his mass against me, the density of his chest, the solid, unmoving strength that was the opposite of the feeling of being nearly "ripped away."
The air that had been thick with hostility against Elias now felt impossibly charged, a silent exchange of relief. When he deepened the kiss, a sound tore from the back of his throat—a low, rough noise of surrender and triumph.
Then, the thrum of our bond became a physical phenomenon. It wasn't gentle. It was a rapid, deep vibration starting low in my belly and radiating outward, synchronizing with the frantic, heavy beat of his heart. It was a physical release—the stormcloud of his dominance didn't just retreat; it collapsed, drenching us both in protective intensity.
He finally broke the connection, not by pulling away, but by resting his forehead against mine, his breath ragged and hot on my skin. His arms banded around my ribs, squeezing me until I couldn't distinguish my own lungs from his.
"You are here," he rasped, the words vibrating through his jaw and into my bone.
"I'm here," I repeated, my own voice husky. I dug my fingers into the tight muscles of his shoulders. I felt the powerful tension under the skin—a tension that wasn't about fighting, but about clinging.
He slowly, reluctantly, loosened his hold on my ribs, only to slide his arm around my waist, pulling me so close that our hips bumped, and we moved as one solid unit. His heat was oppressive, perfect.
He lowered his head, pressing his mouth against the pulse point just below my ear. The combination of the icy night air on my skin and the scalding heat of his breath was dizzying.
My knees felt suddenly weak, a liquid, heavy sensation pooling in my core. This wasn't just intimacy; it was the energetic alignment the ritual required. My mind, usually busy, became utterly still, focused only on the texture of his skin against mine, the scent of him—woodsmoke, cold air, and something uniquely Calder—that flooded my senses.
He shifted, bringing our bodies into full contact—chest to chest, hip to hip. The density of his muscle felt like a solid frame against my softer lines. It was sustained physical contact.
Then he kissed me, again and the emotional openness was complete. It was a merging that felt less like two people and more like two halves snapping back together. I felt the powerful, concentrated energy that had been held back—the no holding back energy—finally flowing between us, a rushing river of fierce, protective love and primal claim.
The main hall was quiet. The massive stone fireplace cast warm, flickering light that struggled against the shadows.
Calder and I were seated close together on a worn leather sofa. The lingering intimacy of the moonlight was now overshadowed by grim necessity.
Calder held my hand tightly. His thumb traced my knuckles in a nervous rhythm.
"Selene," he began. His voice was heavy with the weight of generations. "I need you to fully understand the history of what we're facing. It is not just some old wives' tale."
He began to explain the Shadowfang history. The curse that had crippled them for centuries.
"It is called the Eclipse Curse," he said. "Generations ago, one of my ancestors broke a sacred, foundational vow with the Moon. The immediate price was the denial of our true mates."
I listened intently. My expression stayed steady and solemn.
"For hundreds of years, we have been denied that deepest, most vital bond. Denied the immense physical and spiritual strength it brings. That is why the Pack is perpetually weak, always fighting just to survive." He squeezed my hand. I could feel his fear, palpable and real. "Your Mark—the Lunar Mark—is the literal key to breaking this curse and restoring us."
"But the ritual is inherently dangerous," I stated. My voice was soft but unnervingly firm. I was accepting the risk.
Calder nodded. His jaw was tight. "Deadly, Selene. If the full force of the curse energy is redirected, it doesn't just dissipate. The Scrolls warn that it could rebound catastrophically into the host. We're talking permanent neurological damage. Death."
He couldn't tear his eyes away from my face. He wanted me to understand the depth of his fear for me. "I cannot promise I can fully shield you from that final rebound."
We remained quiet for a long, heavy moment. Then I gently pulled my hand free—only to immediately cup his cheek, forcing his eyes to lock onto mine.
"Calder," I said gently. My tone was completely resolute. "This is not about just me, or just you anymore. Your pack has suffered too much and for too long. They live entirely in the shadow of this history."
read more: click here
Be First to Post Comment !
Post a Comment