The room was quiet, the fire reduced to glowing embers. Sofia lay against Damien’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers lazily traced along her spine, his touch warm and familiar.After a long moment of silence, Damien finally spoke.“When did it happen?” His voice was low, thoughtful.Sofia tilted her head up, meeting his golden gaze. “When did what happen?”“When you fell for me.” His lips curved slightly, but there was a hint of something deeper in his expression—curiosity, maybe even disbelief. “I thought you only came to me for a contract.”She smiled, running her fingers over his jaw. “So did I.”Damien raised a brow. “And yet, here you are.”Sofia let out a soft laugh. “I think it started after our first time together.” She bit her lip, considering. “But honestly? From the moment you touched me, I felt… safe. Like I was home.”His fingers stilled against her skin. “Home?”She nodded. “It didn’t make sense at the time. You were supposed to be tempo
Damien sat on the edge of the bed, watching Sofia as she stretched across the mattress, scrolling through her phone. He studied her, the way her lips curled slightly in concentration, the way the firelight flickered across her skin. “So,” he said, breaking the silence, “where do you want to go for our first date?” Sofia glanced up, surprised. “You’re actually letting me choose?” Damien smirked. “I did promise to give you whatever you wanted.” She sat up, thinking for a moment before answering. “A park.” His brow lifted. “A park?” Damien leaned back on his hands, considering. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.” Sofia’s face lit up, excitement flashing in her eyes. “Really? No complaints?” He smirked. “I have no reason to complain. As long as you’re happy.” She grinned. “Good answer.” Damien tilted his head. “So, what exactly do people do at the park?” Sofia let out a dramatic gasp. “You’ve never been to a park?” “I have,” he said, amused. “I
The car moved smoothly through the city streets, the faint hum of the engine filling the comfortable silence between them. Sofia leaned against Damien’s shoulder, watching the lights blur past the window. After a moment, she broke the silence. “You know… you’re not like any of the werewolf stories I used to hear as a kid.” Damien glanced down at her, a smirk playing at his lips. “Oh? And what were you expecting?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Something wilder? More… primitive?” Damien chuckled. “We’ve learned to merge with the new century, sweetheart. The world changes, and we adapt. But at our core, we’re still the same.” Sofia tilted her head to look up at him. “And what does that mean?” “It means I’m still an alpha,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I have my pack. And I have my mate.” His fingers brushed over her hand. “You.” Sofia swallowed, her heart doing
The moment they stepped inside, Sofia’s breath caught in her throat. The entire living room was transformed into something out of a dream. Soft candlelight flickered across the space, casting golden shadows on the walls. Delicate red rose petals were scattered across the floor, leading a path toward the center of the room where a small table for two was elegantly set, complete with fine china and crystal glasses. More roses adorned the corners of the room, their fragrance mingling with the warm vanilla scent of the candles. Sofia turned to Damien, eyes wide in astonishment. “Damien… when did you do all this?” He let out a low chuckle, his golden eyes filled with amusement. “I’ll always do anything to make you smile.” She pressed a hand to her chest, touched beyond words. “You’re unbelievable.” He smirked, reaching for her hand. “Come. That’s not everything.” The Closet Surprise
A Romantic MorningSofia stirred as the scent of freshly brewed coffee and something sweet filled the air. She blinked her eyes open, stretching lazily as the morning sunlight streamed through the curtains.Her gaze landed on Damien, who was sitting beside her on the bed, holding a tray of breakfast.“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured, smirking.Sofia sat up, eyes widening as she took in the beautifully arranged meal—golden-brown pancakes drizzled with syrup, fresh strawberries, crispy bacon, and a steaming cup of coffee. A single red rose rested beside the plate.Her heart melted. “Did you… make this?”Damien smirked. “I had some help.”She chuckled, picking up a fork. “Still, this is… perfect.” She took a bite of the pancakes and let out a content sigh. “How do you always know exactly what I like?”Damien leaned in, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because I pay attention.”Sh
The courthouse doors swung open as Damien and Sofia stepped outside, the cool breeze brushing against them. The weight of the trial still lingered in the air, but it was over—Jake was sentenced, and justice had been served.As they walked toward the car, hand in hand, someone suddenly bumped into them.Sofia stumbled slightly, but Damien’s grip on her tightened, steadying her instantly.When she looked up, her stomach twisted.It was her—the woman she had found with Jake that night.The woman’s eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for hours. She wrung her hands together, her gaze desperate as she looked at Sofia.“Please,” the woman choked out. “Please, Sofia, I need to talk to you.”Sofia stiffened, her heart pounding.Damien’s golden eyes darkened as he stepped slightly in front of Sofia, his presence a silent warning. “You have five seconds to explain yourself before I remove you from
The drive back to the penthouse was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. Damien’s fingers remained intertwined with Sofia’s, his thumb tracing slow circles on her skin. The air between them was calm, but Sofia could still feel the lingering weight of everything that had happened.As they stepped into the penthouse, she let out a soft sigh, feeling exhaustion creep into her bones. Damien shut the door behind them, pulling her gently into his arms.“You did well today,” he murmured against her hair.Sofia leaned into him, closing her eyes. “I don’t feel like I did anything.”“You faced it,” Damien said. “That’s enough.”She let out a slow breath, nodding against his chest.After a moment, Damien pulled back slightly, his golden eyes searching hers. “There’s something else we need to talk about.”Sofia frowned. “What is it?”He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “The ritual we did weeks ago… it’s
The soft hum of the IV filled the quiet room. The moon had long since disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only the dim glow of the bedside lamp to cast golden shadows across Sofia’s face.Damien hadn’t moved from his spot. He sat beside the bed, one hand wrapped around hers, his thumb slowly stroking her skin.She had been unconscious for hours, her body still weak from the shift. He hated seeing her like this—so still, so vulnerable.A low growl rumbled in his throat. He had prepared her for this, but nothing could have prepared him for the way it felt to watch her collapse in his arms.The doctor had assured him she would be fine. That this was normal.But patience had never been Damien’s strength.Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he felt her fingers twitch in his grasp.His golden eyes snapped to her face.“Sofia.”Her eyelashes fluttered, her breath hitching as she slowly ope
The relentless twilight of the 'Wolf Born Twice' reality began to fray at the edges. The sharp scents of pine and blood softened, the perpetual chill lessened, and the oppressive shadows receded. It wasn’t a sudden transition, but a gradual melting, like frost under a hesitant sun.Sofia felt the change, a subtle shift in the fabric of this dreamscape. She was still the predator, vigilant and detached, the cold logic of survival dictating her every instinct. But a different sensation was bleeding in – a warmth, a pull, a persistent, gentle pressure she had been ruthlessly pushing away.Let go, Sofia. The voice was Lyra’s, no longer distant and pleading, but closer, clearer, imbued with a quiet strength. Let go of the fight. Not the one out there, but the one within you. Come back to the in-between.The 'in-between'. The place she had visited before, a liminal space connecting her conscious mind, her wolf, and the deeper currents of her being. It felt… safer than the twilight world. Le
The biting wind whipped around Damien and Kieran as they descended the worn stone steps into the ancestral crypts beneath the pack house. The air grew colder with each step, thick with the scent of damp earth and something else – something ancient and heavy, the accumulated presence of generations of wolves laid to rest. This wasn't merely a burial site; it was a reservoir of lineage, of history, of secrets best left undisturbed.But secrets were exactly what they needed.After Draven Thorne's chilling message, Damien’s focus had shifted. Protecting Sofia from this external threat was paramount, but he couldn’t fight blindly. They needed to understand the Blackwood curse, its true nature, and its connection to The Hollow Order and this terrifying figure, Thorne. Kieran’s frantic research had unearthed fragmented mentions of Elias Blackwood, a figure shrouded in mystery at the very genesis of the curse, and the possibility of contacting ancestral spirits bound to powerful bloodlines.“
Damien stood by the infirmary window, the first weak light of dawn painting the sky in hesitant greys and pinks. Sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford. The image of Sofia’s still form, the echo of Kieran’s devastating words about the Blackwood curse and its terrible solutions, were etched into his mind. He had refused the grim options presented, choosing instead the impossible path: to find a way to reach Sofia, to pull her back from whatever twilight realm held her, and face the curse together.A sharp rap on the door shattered the fragile quiet. Kieran entered, his face even more strained than before, if that were possible.“Alpha,” he said, his voice tight. “We have a problem. Another one.”Damien turned, his jaw set. “More Hollow Order?”Kieran nodded, but his eyes held a different kind of dread. “Yes. But… not just a sigil this time. It’s… a statement.”“Where?”“Just outside the western border. The Creekside Pack.”Damien’s eyes narrowed. The Creekside Pack. A small, quiet group
back in reality The sterile scent of the infirmary chafed at Damien’s senses. He sat beside Sofia’s bed, his hand holding hers. It was slack and unresponsive in his grasp. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale and drawn. She hadn’t stirred since collapsing hours ago, after the invisible struggle that had wracked her form, leaving her locked within whatever twisted reality her mind now inhabited. He remembered the look in her eyes just before they fluttered closed – distant, cold, utterly unlike his Sofia.Lyra, usually a comforting presence, was silent within him, a dull ache where fierce protectiveness should have been. It was as if even his wolf was reeling from whatever had happened inside Sofia’s dreamscape.A soft knock preceded Kieran’s entry. He looked even more weary than he had earlier, dark circles under his eyes, ancient scrolls clutched in one hand. He moved quietly, stopping respectfully a few feet from the bed.“Any change, Alpha?” Kieran’s voice was low, filled with
The world was a canvas of perpetual twilight, painted in hues of bruised purple and blood-red. Sofia didn’t walk; she stalked. The ground beneath her boots was hard-packed earth, stained dark in places that still smelled faintly of iron. The air was cold, carrying the scent of pine and something sharp and acrid – fear.She moved with a predator’s grace, silent and efficient. Every muscle was coiled, ready to strike or vanish. Her senses were honed to a razor’s edge. The rustle of leaves wasn’t just wind; it was a potential ambush. The snapped twig wasn’t just nature; it was an intruder. This wasn’t the soft, familiar world of the pack house, or the vibrant, sunlit forest she knew. This was a battlefield, a hunting ground, a place where the weak were consumed.Her hand rested habitually on the hilt of the blade strapped to her thigh. The metal was cold, worn smooth by countless grips. It felt right, an extension of her will. Her clothes were practical, dark leather and sturdy cloth, de
The heavy oak door of Damien’s study burst open, slamming against the wall with a force that rattled the framed maps on the opposite side. Damien looked up from the reports on his desk, his eyes narrowing as Kieran Ash stumbled in, his usual composed demeanor replaced by a frantic urgency. Dust and what looked suspiciously like dried blood smudged his worn leather armor.“Kieran! What in the name of the Goddess happened?” Damien’s voice was sharp, immediately on alert. He rose, circling the desk.Kieran leaned against the doorframe, breathing heavily, his gaze wild. “No time for pleasantries, Alpha. It’s happening again.”“What is? Spill it,” Damien demanded, reaching for the hunting knife habitually sheathed at his belt.“The killings,” Kieran choked out, pushing off the frame. He crossed the room in a few strides, his eyes locking onto Damien’s. “Across the border territories. Three packs hit in two nights. Brutal. No survivors left to talk.”Damien’s jaw tightened. He’d heard whisp
(Damien’s POV – Present Day)The blood on the floor had long since dried. The candles flickered as if they feared what we were about to do.Lyra stood at the center of the chamber barefoot, her cloak discarded, her runes fully exposed across her arms and collarbone. Her breathing was shallow, but her gaze had steadied. Focused.“This is not a spell,” she said, voice low. “It’s a bridge. Once we begin, I won’t control where you go. The memories will pull you toward the piece of her soul that still remembers you.”“And if it doesn’t?” I asked.She looked at me with those storm-gray eyes. “Then you’ll wander her past until your spirit forgets who it was.”I didn’t flinch.“If there’s a part of her that still remembers me,” I murmured, stepping closer, “that’s all I need.”Lyra knelt beside the basin of now-consecrated blood. She whispered an ancient chant, tracing her fingers in precise patterns above the surface. The blood began to glow faintly, pulsing—like it was responding to my hear
(Damien’s POV – Present Day)The moon was barely more than a sickle of light in the sky. Clouds churned over the forest, and the air was heavy—too quiet, too still. The trees whispered warnings in a language only the cursed could understand.I hadn’t planned to return to the ritual site tonight.But something—a pull—dragged me here.The clearing still bore the markings of the ceremony that broke me. The silver runes carved into stone still shimmered faintly, and the scent of magic hung in the air like cold smoke.I stepped into the circle.And stopped.Someone was there.A body.A woman.She lay curled at the edge of the stones, half-covered in leaves, her skin dusted with blood and soil. A torn cloak clung to her frame, silver thread stitched into its seams—ancient symbols I hadn’t seen in centuries.I rushed to her side.She wasn’t a rogue. Her scent was strange, like rain and stardust. Not of this land.Her breathing was shallow. Her skin ice-cold.But then, her lips parted.And in
(Damien’s POV – Three Moons Without Her)Time moved differently without her.Slower.Heavier.Like the minutes were dragging their feet through wet concrete.Three days had passed since the ritual.Since I bound my name to another woman to deceive ancient spirits.Since I whispered goodbye into the ear of the only woman who ever made this cursed blood of mine feel worthy.I still felt her breath on my neck.Still caught her scent in the folds of the sheets.Still expected her to walk barefoot into the kitchen every morning with a sleepy smirk, teasing me about my obsessions.But she didn’t.And she wouldn’t.Not for three moons.And I was starting to forget how to breathe without her.---The penthouse was too quiet.I left it behind after the second day.I couldn’t walk into that room without hearing the machines beeping beside her bed. Without seeing the imprint of her body on the pillow. Without smelling cinnamon and honey on the linens.So I returned to the Blackwood manor—a place