Chapter 297: Don’t Stay Away From Me
The door creaked open, soft at first, then a little wider, and Damien’s voice seeped through the shadows. "Moonlight..."
Her heart leapt before her body could catch up, and she sat up too quickly, breath hitching. "Damien?"
He stepped into the room. His presence filled the small space. He didn’t move closer. He lingered at the doorway, gripping the frame. "You promised," he murmured. "You promised to fight this with me. Don’t stay away from me, Luna."
Her chest tightened, a sob curling in her throat. "I’m exhausted, Damien." She dragged in a breath that felt too heavy for her lungs. "I can’t... I can’t breathe. Every day it’s one more thing. One more trial. I thought it would be easy—" she laughed bitterly. "I thought our love would be strong enough to help me weather the storm, but it turns out, Damien, it’s the love that’s ripping me apart."
Her hands twisted in the sheets. Love—fierce, overwhelming, consuming—was supposed to save her. Instead, it was tearing her open, exposing her to wounds no blade could match. The mate-bond magnified every hurt until it was unbearable. And still, her body ached for him, her soul burned for him.
Damien’s throat bobbed, his eyes shadowed with torment. He wanted to go to her, to crush her against him, to silence her pain with his touch. But he stayed where he was.
"Baby..." Damien took another step toward her. "Come home."
Luna sighed so heavily it seemed to press the air out of the small room. She swung her leg off the bed. Damien reached for her hand and, when she didn’t pull away, spun her into his arms and pulled her to his chest.
Then her werewolf senses flared. The scent hit her. "Were you with her?" she asked.
Damien felt it coming—knew the question would come, had feared it since the moment he’d left Isolde’s doorstep. He tightened his arms, to restrain her. He had no shield for what he’d done; only truth. "Yes."
Luna tried to twist free so she could look at him properly. But in his embrace there was no room to disentangle without a fight. "What did you do, Damien?"
"Nothing." He said. He wanted to veil the shame. He wanted simpler words. But Luna’s nostrils flared.
"Then how is it her damned scent all over you?" Luna demanded
"You don’t really want me to answer that, at least not now." He spoke the truth he could bear: that the mate-bond was a treacherous thing, tugging and roaring beneath skin, that some moments of weakness were less about want and more about survival. He had breathed her in, yes; he had stood near her, yes. He had almost tipped over. Yes.
"I’m going to kill you. I’m going to fucking kill you."
"You are allowed to...," Damien said, "but just know that I still didn’t do anything." He wanted her to understand that the bond had pushed, prodded, tried to claim what it thought it was owed, but that his heart—messy, stubborn, irrevocably hers—had never left.
"Let go of me, Damien!" Luna snapped. The guest room was suddenly small and hot. She wrenched against his arms as if freeing herself from chains. Every inch of her screamed betrayal, humiliation, the ache of being outmaneuvered in the one place she’d always thought unassailable: her marriage.
"No!" he shot back instantly. Damien’s hands clamped harder. He could feel the heat of her fury, the heartbeat under her sternum. He wasn’t willing to be pushed away — not tonight.
"You will let go of me at some point, right?"
"Not until you believe that I didn’t do anything wrong." He wanted her to know that he hadn’t crossed the line she feared — that what had happened earlier was an ugly, quick thing.
"Okay, let me rephrase. What did she do?"
Damien took a slight pause — the pause that told her everything. He breathed in, out, then forced the word. "Nothing."
Luna’s knee rose so fast it blurred, and Damien howled, the sound of a man surprised by pain. The blow landed mercilessly into family jewels, a precise, practiced strike that punched air from him. His arms slackened enough for her to wrench free. She stumbled back, chest heaving. Watching him buckle, even for a heartbeat, provided a small, savage satisfaction.
"Fuck! Was that necessary?" he gasped, hand already cradling himself.
"Are you protecting her?" Luna spat, red-lipped and furious.
"Luna, I am not doing anything. I am just a man. I am fighting this with all I have got. I am going crazy. Give me some damned credit."
"Bullshit!" she spun away from him, fingers digging into her hair until the pain was a counterpoint to the hurt inside. "Credit? For what? For fucking her?"
"Sweetie, believe me. It didn’t go that far. And I know you can tell. I went there looking for you. I thought you were still there. And yes... I was weak in the tiniest moment, the tiniest window...but I am here now. Standing here with you. And I want it no other way. Me, you against fate."
Luna’s shoulders trembled. She wanted to roar, to rend, to scar him in return. She wanted also to collapse into him and let the sobs come.
Luna shut her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, her gaze found Damien’s face. "Let’s go home." Then she swept past him. Damien stayed a breath longer, his chest tight, then let out a ragged sigh of relief. He followed her.
*****
William had stayed cloaked in the veil of his spell, his body barely a ripple against the night air. The magic shimmered faintly around him. He watched as the king’s car rolled away into the dark, its taillights glowing. Only then did he stride toward Isolde’s building.
Inside, Isolde had been pacing. But when she caught sight of William entering, her fury spilled over. "Why do you still leave that idiot up on that hill?" Her hands flew up in exasperation, hair tumbling wild over her shoulders.