Page 108 of The Reaper's Vow
“You're sure?”
“No,” I admit with a shaky laugh. “I'm terrified. But I'm sure about us. About this.” I gesture between us. “And if we're goingto be hunted anyway, I'd rather face it with power than without it.”
His smile is small but genuine. “My fierce mate.”
“Your terrified mate,” I correct, though warmth spreads through me at his words. “Who has absolutely no idea what she's doing.”
“We'll figure it out together.” He leans down to press a soft kiss to my forehead, careful of my bruises. “One decision at a time.”
My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, reminding us both that I haven't eaten in hours. Damien chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest.
“Right. Food first, conquering territories second.”
“That should probably be our pack motto,” I say, settling back against the pillows as he rises from the bed. “Practical priorities for practical alphas.”
“I like it.” He stops at the door, his features gentling, affection flickering in his eyes. “You’re already thinking like an alpha. Putting everyone else before yourself.”
After he leaves, I sink deeper into the pillows, my body finally beginning to relax now that we've made our decision. The truth of our situation settles over me—not crushing, but substantial. Real. In a matter of days, I'll be responsible for an entire pack of wolves who lost their alpha tonight.
The thought should terrify me more than it does. Instead, I find myself thinking about the masked figures in that clearing. How some of them backed away when they realized what Lockhart was truly planning. How even monsters have lines they won't cross.
Maybe leadership isn't about being fearless. Maybe it's about being afraid and choosing to act anyway.
I close my eyes, letting exhaustion pull me toward sleep. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new responsibilities Inever asked for but can't avoid. But tonight, I'm safe in Damien's bed.
And that’s enough for me.
Damien
Istir awake, her scent enveloping me like a familiar embrace. Karina is nestled against my chest, her breath steady and rhythmic, each soft exhale brushing against my exposed skin. The afternoon sun streams through the curtains, casting a warm glow that dances across her bruised skin. Even with the remnants of Lockhart's brutality etched on her, she radiates a beauty that captivates me completely.
Mine.
My wolf rumbles with satisfaction as I trace the curve of her shoulder with my fingertips. The marks from last night have already begun to fade—one of the benefits of her werewolfhealing. By tomorrow, they'll be nothing but memories. The physical ones, at least.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, my touch light enough not to wake her. After everything she endured yesterday, she needs rest. The shift, the fight, the decisions we made afterward—all of it has taken a toll.
And yet, I can't stop touching her. Can't stop reassuring myself that she's here, safe in my arms, where nothing can harm her. My fingertips drift along the curve of her spine, memorizing each vertebra through the thin cotton of my borrowed shirt.
She stirs, her body arching into my touch like a cat seeking more. A small sound escapes her throat—half sigh, half moan—and my body responds instantly, hardening against her hip.
“Mmm.” The sound slips from her as she shifts closer, still half-asleep. Her lashes lift slowly, eyes hazy before they sharpen on my face. The bruise on her cheekbone has already faded to a yellow smear. My fingers skim over it, memorizing every trace before it vanishes completely.
“How long was I out?”
“Almost fourteen hours.” A reluctant smile tugs at my mouth. “You needed it.”
She stretches languidly against me, every subtle brush of her body sparking a want I struggle to ignore. My cock aches, but I force my thoughts back to her recovery, not the ache thrumming in my blood. She’s still healing. Still fragile.
“Fourteen?” Karina blinks up at me, startled. “What time is it?”
“Just after three.” My palm settles on her hip, thumb tracing idle circles against the soft fabric of my shirt draped over her frame. “How do you feel?”
Her eyes fall shut again as she takes inventory of herself, the small furrow between her brows deepening while she measures each ache, each lingering bruise.
“Still sore, but...better.” Her stomach growls loudly. “And apparently still hungry.”
I can't help but smile. “The shift burns through calories. Your body's trying to replenish what it lost.”
