CHAPTER 8: AFTERMATH OF FIRE
Selene's POV
The medical wing smelled like antiseptic and burned wood.
I sat on the examination table while Draven, the head healer, worked on my shoulder wound. The explosion had reopened it, and blood had soaked through the bandages Damon had hastily wrapped around me.
"You're lucky to be alive," Draven muttered, his weathered hands gentle as he cleaned the wound.
"That building came down like the heavens themselves wanted it buried."
I didn't feel lucky.
I felt like a curse. Everywhere I went, death followed. First the guard outside my cell, now an entire mill reduced to rubble, and Marcus—Damon's former Beta—was still out there somewhere, plotting his next move.
"The Alpha saved you," Draven continued, applying fresh bandages.
"Carried you out of the flames himself. That's twice now he's risked his life for you."
I closed my eyes. I didn't want to think about the way Damon had held me as the building collapsed around us. The way his arms had tightened around me, as if letting go meant losing me forever.
The mate bond hummed beneath my skin, a constant reminder of the impossible situation we were in.
"All done," Draven said, stepping back.
"But you need rest. Real rest. No more running into burning buildings."
A bitter laugh escaped me. "I'll try to avoid it."
The door opened before Draven could respond.
Damon walked in, still covered in soot and ash. His silver eyes found mine immediately, and something in my chest pulled tight.
"How is she?" he asked Draven, though his gaze never left my face.
"She'll heal. The wound reopened but it's not as bad as it could've been." Draven gathered his supplies.
"I'll give you two a moment."
He left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Silence stretched between us, heavy and charged.
"You should be resting," I said finally, because someone had to break the tension.
"So should you." Damon moved closer, stopping just a few feet away.
Close enough that I could smell the smoke still clinging to his clothes. "But here we are."
"Here we are," I echoed.
His jaw tightened.
"Marcus is still out there. And whoever helped him plant those explosives is still in my pack."
"I know."
"Which means you're still in danger."
I looked down at my hands, at the fresh bandages wrapped around my wrists where the ropes had cut into my skin.
"I am always in danger. That's just my life now."
"Not anymore."
My head snapped up.
Damon's expression was hard, determined.
"From now on, you stay close. No more guest rooms. No more leaving you unguarded for even a second."
"What are you saying?"
"I am saying you're moving into my house. Permanently. Under my protection."
His voice dropped, rough and possessive.
"No one touches you. No one gets near you. Not Marcus, not whoever's helping him, not anyone."
The bond flared at his words, warm and insistent.
"You can't just—" I started.
"I can. I'm the Alpha." He stepped even closer, and now I could feel the heat radiating from him.
"And you're my mate, whether we want it or not. That means protecting you isn't optional."
There it was. The word he'd been avoiding.
Mate.
"The pack will talk," I said quietly.
"They already think I'm manipulating you. This will only make it worse."
"Let them talk." His silver eyes blazed.
"I don't care what they think."
"Lyra will—"
"Lyra doesn't make decisions for me."
His voice turned cold.
"No one does."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him this was a mistake, that getting closer would only make everything more complicated.
But the truth was, I was tired of fighting. Tired of being alone. Tired of pretending the bond between us didn't exist.
"Okay," I whispered.
Surprise flickered across his face.
"Okay?"
"I'll stay. In your house. Under your protection." I met his gaze steadily.
"But I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
"If I become a liability—if keeping me alive puts your pack in danger—you let me go."
His expression darkened. "That's not going to happen."
"Promise me, Damon."
For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then he reached out, his hand coming up to cup my face. The touch was gentle, almost reverent.
"I promise," he said softly, "that I will never let you go."
The bond surged between us, golden and warm and absolutely terrifying.
Before I could respond, the door burst open.
Ronan stood there, his face pale and urgent.
"Alpha. We have a problem."
Damon's hand dropped from my face immediately, his whole demeanor shifting back to the cold, controlled Alpha.
"What is it?"
"The council is demanding an emergency meeting. Now."
Ronan's eyes flicked to me briefly.
"They want to discuss what to do about her."
My stomach dropped.
Damon's expression went completely blank—the calm before a storm.
"Tell them I'll be there shortly."
"Damon, they're not happy—"
"I said shortly, Ronan."
Ronan bowed his head and left.
Damon turned back to me, his jaw tight.
"Stay here. Don't leave this room until I come back fo
r you."
"What are they going to say?"
"It doesn't matter what they say." He moved toward the door, then paused.
"The decision is mine. Not theirs."
And then he was gone, leaving me alone with the growing certainty that everything was about to get much, much worse