Page 56 of Enchanting the Alpha

“Furthermore,” Xabir’s voice carried the weight of alpha command, “you and Bastian are banished from Mystic Hollow. Leave now or face the consequences of defying this order.”

As guards led Monroe away, Xabir rushed back to Romi’s side. The healing circle had grown, nearly twenty witches now lending their power to save her. Her color looked marginally better, but she remained terrifyingly still.

“The dark magic is finally receding,” Neve reported, exhaustion evident in her voice. “But she’s not out of danger yet.”

Xabir dropped to his knees beside her, taking her small hand between his larger ones. Every shallow breath she took felt like a gift and a torment. The mighty alpha who’d just defeated his challenger vanished, replaced by a man terrified of losing his heart.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “You’re the strongest person I know. Keep fighting for me.”

Hours passed in agonizing slowness. The fair cleared out, leaving only those helping with Romi’s healing. Whiskers curled up on her chest, his usual sparkles dimmed to barely a glimmer. The tiny animal’s distress mirrored the ache in Xabir’s soul.

As sunset painted the sky in shades of flame, Romi’s fingers finally twitched in his grasp. Her eyelids fluttered, then opened, revealing dazed brown eyes that immediately sought his.

“Xabir?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

The relief that flooded through him nearly brought him to his knees. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

She tried to sit up but fell back with a wince. “Monroe?”

“Gone.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “He has been stripped of his magic and banished. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Tears filled her eyes as she reached up to touch his cheek. “You’re bleeding.”

He caught her hand, pressing it more firmly against his skin. “It’s nothing. I’ll heal.”

“My protective alpha.” Her attempt at a smile turned into a grimace of pain.

“Rest,” he urged, heart clenching at her obvious discomfort. “The healing magic needs time to work.”

Neve stepped forward, her face showing the strain of hours of spellcasting. “We should move her somewhere more comfortable. She’ll need several days to fully recover.”

“My cottage,” Romi murmured, already drifting back to sleep.

Xabir gathered her carefully in his arms, mindful of her injuries. She felt so fragile against his chest, though he knew the strength that lived in her small frame.

The walk to her cottage seemed endless. Every tiny whimper of pain from Romi felt like a knife in his heart. By the time he laid her in her bed, his arms ached from maintaining such careful control.

“I’ll stay with her,” he told the healers. “In case she needs anything.”

Neve’s knowing look held no judgment. “Of course. Call us if her condition changes.”

Once they were alone, Xabir pulled a chair close to the bed and took Romi’s hand again. Her magic still felt weak, but it reached for his instinctively.

“I almost lost you today.” His whispered confession fell into the quiet room. “When I saw you fall...” He swallowed hard against the memory.

Romi stirred slightly, her fingers tightening around his. Even unconscious, she seemed to sense his distress. Her other hand found Whiskers, who had curled up against her side like a tiny guardian.

Outside, the moon rose over Mystic Hollow, painting silver patterns across the bedroom floor. The town felt different now – cleansed of a darkness that had festered too long. Monroe’s hatred had tried to tear them apart, but instead, it had proven just how unbreakable their bond had become.

Xabir settled in for his vigil, his thumb tracing gentle circles on Romi’s palm. He might be the alpha of the Western Lupo Pack, the CEO of a hotel empire, but in this moment, he was simply a man watching over his heart as she slept.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words falling like stars into the quiet night. “Rest now, my brave, beautiful witch. I’ll be here when you wake.”

FIFTY-THREE

Candlelight flickered across the cottage walls, complemented by Whiskers’s attempts to “improve” the ambiance by creating increasingly elaborate light shows overhead.

“Really, Whiskers?” Romi tried to suppress her laugh as her familiar crafted a particularly passionate tableau featuring a dragon wearing what appeared to be a tiny cravat. “I don’t remember that scene from ‘Pride and Prejudice.’“

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