Deep blue eyes

Kyrian

Days have passed since I last saw Alpha Damon, my mate.

I’ve been getting weird stares and hush whispers from some of the pack members especially the omegas.

I guess a large number of the pack members noticed the exchange between I and the alpha during the pack gathering. The change in Damon’s aura, the emotions in my eyes and how I fell to my knees when he looked away during the lunar moon ceremony.

They obviously don’t know what’s going on but they were suspicious.

Retreating towards the eastern corridor of the pack house.

I moved quietly, head bowed, shoulders drawn inward, as though making myself smaller might dull the ache tearing through his chest.

The bond had gone quiet again, smothered, buried but the damage lingered. Rejection echoed in every step I took.

The corridor narrowed near the gardens, moonlight spilling in through arched windows. I did notice Damon until it was too late. Turning the corner and collided with a solid chest.

Strong hands caught my arms instantly.

“Careful,” Damon said, low and automatic.

He froze.

Damon froze too.

Just as he was about to step back Damon’s fingers brushed against his cheeks, the world fractured. Kyrian gasped, a sharp, ragged sound that seemed to echo in the stillness around them. The air between them shimmered, thick with the weight of everything unspoken. It wasn’t just touching. It was recognition. It was claiming. It was the pull of something ancient and undeniable threading through their veins.

Damon’s hand was warm, solid, and impossibly grounding. Yet the power in his touch was dizzying, a quiet dominance that made me feel fragile and unsteady, like a single candle flickering against a storm. Every nerve ending sang with awareness. My chest ached, a deep, raw longing that had nothing to do with need and everything to do with being seen.

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. My gaze stilled on Damon’s deep blue eyes, and in that gaze was a storm of emotion, denial, surprise, restraint, and something else, softer, buried deep beneath layers of alpha control. It was the promise of protection, of understanding, of a connection that should have been impossible, and yet here it was, thrumming violently between us.

Damon’s thumb brushed across my lips, tentative but deliberate, as if testing the limits of what he could allow himself.

The simple contact ignited a fire on my skin that spread through my chest, down my spine, a mix of fear, awe, and something dangerously tender. I ached to lean into it, to feel more, to be engulfed by the strength and warmth pressing against my own uncertainty. But my body froze, caught between yearning and the sharp, cruel memory of Damon’s earlier rejection.

“I…” I tried to say something, anything but my voice trembled, and Damon’s touch silenced my thoughts. Not with force, but with quiet authority, a command that spoke without sound, stay here. Feel this. Don’t run.

The world seemed to shrink until it consisted only of that single contact, only of the rhythm of our racing hearts, the pull of the bond. Even when Damon retracted his hand, the echo lingered, a spark that refused to die. My skin tingled long after, a phantom heat that left me hollow and full all at once.

Damon’s expression was unreadable, but his hand lingered, hovering as if drawn by gravity, torn between control and instinct. It was intoxicating, terrifying, and utterly consuming. It felt like the first taste of freedom, even if only for a fleeting, trembling moment.

And yet, underneath it all, there was the ache. The bond had awakened something ancient and stubborn, a yearning I couldn’t deny, and couldn’t act on at least, not yet.

But the touch, brief and fleeting though it was, had changed everything.

Drawing in a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm inside me, knowing that nothing would ever feel the same again. I had been touched by my mate, and the world had tilted on its axis. The sharp memory of Damon claiming Hannah as his mate was enough to make me finally recover my senses and move 2 steps back.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Damon said, voice low, almost a growl, but not harsh. It carried the weight of authority and restraint both, a contradiction that made my little heart ache.

“This is the warrior’s wing.” Damon said.

“I… I just…” I whispered, words failed me.

I wanted to tell Damon everything, to explain the ache, the bond, the way it pulled at my chest from the first moment, but the words were caught in my throat.

Damon’s eyes softened just for a fraction of a second but it was enough. Enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from him, to see the flicker of something vulnerable beneath the alpha’s mask.

Slowly, almost tentatively, Damon extended a hand.

“Here,” he said, the single word weighted with unspoken meaning.

With hesitation I extended my hands, fingers brushed against his, once again the connection slammed into me like a wave. The bond sang, alive and loud, every nerve awake with awareness of Damon.

It was overwhelming, fear, longing, need, and wonder all at once.

There was a sharp twist in the pit of my stomach, and yet the moment felt impossibly safe.

Damon’s grip was firm but careful, deliberate. Not possessive, not demanding, but undeniably his.

Kyrian’s heart lurched as he felt the subtle heat of Damon’s palm, the way his fingers seemed to mold perfectly around his. It was grounding, intoxicating, and impossible to pull away from.

“You feel it too,” Damon murmured, almost under his breath, though it wasn’t a question.

The bond answered for them both, vibrating beneath their skin like a living thing.

Searching Damon’s eyes for permission, for acknowledgment, for anything that could explain why the simplest touch felt like being tethered to the sun itself. In those beautiful steel gray eyes, for a moment, there was something I hadn’t dared hope for “Lust.”

Damon’s thumb brushed across the soft skin of my hand, light and teasing, but it sent fire through my veins. I yearned for more, wanting to move closer, to let the connection deepen.

“You… you can’t…” I whispered, barely audible.

“I can,” Damon said, his voice low, controlled, though it carried the slightest tremor. “I just… have to.”

The silence stretched, thick with tension and unspoken desire. The bond seemed to shrink the distance between them to nothing.

Damon felt it all, the bond pulling him towards his mate in ways neither could fully resist. Every heartbeat, every breath, carried the weight of what he couldn’t say and what he desperately wanted.

Damon’s hands tightened before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He immediately let go and backed away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Damon repeated quietly.

Silence felt heavy, fragile.

“Go,” Damon said.

Not harsh.

Not cold.

Just… strained.

Kyrian hesitated. His fingers curled once, as if reaching for something he already knew he could not have.

Then he nodded and stepped away, heart pounding, the bond humming softly in protest.

As he disappeared down the corridor, Damon remained where he was, fists clenched, chest tight, the echo of Kyrian’s warmth burning into his palms.

For the first time, Damon Belloti wondered if ignoring the bond was possible and how long he could survive doing it.

How long it could remain a secret and how long it’s gonna take before his restraints snaps and forces him to claim his rightful mate.