Page 95 of Wolf Queen Ruin
I winced, simultaneously scolding myself and wondering where that thought had bloomed from.Because that part of me needed to shush.I didn’t want to be engaged to anyone.I wanted sex with Damien.Only sex.Plain and simple.
He turned away, his profile sharp against the night sky.“I know.And that complicates things even more.”
“What were you like?”I asked, eager to move on to easier topics.“Before you were turned?”
A humorless smile lifted his lips.“Arrogant.Privileged.The entitled son of the Summer Court fae king.”His expression darkened.“I thought myself invincible, untouchable by consequence.And then I left, and every day since, I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t.”
“Why did you leave?”I asked softly.
He went silent for so long that I didn’t know if he’d heard me.Then, “Love.”
That one word sounded so raw and honest that my chest ached for him.
“She was human.She died”—his voice caught slightly—“and shortly after I left my kingdom, war broke out.My father, my mother, my sisters…all killed in a conflict that I wasn’t there to prevent.”His hands curled into fists on his thighs.“And our supposed allies, the shifters, didn’t lift a claw to help.”
“What?Shifters?“ I heaved out a breath and shook my head.“I’m so sorry, Damien.”
Those words seemed too empty for his obvious pain, but that was all I had.That, and a hundred questions, none of which I wanted to ask if they hurt Damien even more.
His gaze drifted to the horizon.“For centuries, I’ve wondered what would have happened if I’d stayed.If I’d done my duty instead of following my heart.”
I nodded, having wondered the same thing countless times.
“And after?When Elliot turned you?”I asked softly.“What were you like then?”
“I was…feral.Lost in bloodlust for a long while.”His voice grew distant, as if seeing into that long-ago past.“Elliot could have destroyed me.He should have, by vampire law, since I couldn’t control myself.Instead, he saw something worth salvaging.He taught me to control the hunger, to adapt to immortality, to find purpose beyond mere survival.”
His admissions felt almost painfully personal.I found myself wanting to offer something equally vulnerable in return, though the impulse terrified me.
“My dad performed the separation ceremony himself,” I said abruptly, the words emerging before I could reconsider them.“When he banished me from the pack.”
Damien turned toward me, his full attention almost tangible in the darkness.
“It’s not just symbolic,” I continued, tracing patterns on the stone bench between us.“Severing pack bonds is like…like amputating a sense you’ve had since birth.He used a ritual blade—silver mixed with wolfsbane.The Alpha cuts here.”I touched the center of my chest.“Not deep enough to be physically dangerous, but enough to carry the herbs into your bloodstream, where they dissolve the magical connections to the pack collective.”
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes.“For the crime of loving someone from another pack.”
“Uh, no.Not love.Lust, pure and simple.And the draw of being a bad, bad girl.And getting pregnant,” I added.“Can’t forget that part in the list of my offenses.Diluting our pure Northern bloodline with Eclipse pack genes—truly unforgivable.”
The bitterness that always simmered just underneath my skin resurfaced, sharp and acrid.
“He gave you no choice?”His voice had dropped to a lower register, carrying an edge that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
“Terminate the pregnancy or leave the pack.”I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm night.“Not much of a choice.”
Damien went silent for a long moment.“I’ve never understood pack politics,” he said finally.“Vampires are territorial and hierarchical, but we don’t share the collective identity that drives wolf packs.The idea of sacrificing individuality for group identity seems so odd to me.”
“It’s not sacrifice when you’re born to it,” I said with a shrug.“Pack bonds are… They’re like oxygen.You don’t think about them until they’re gone.”I stared at my hands, remembering how they’d looked with claws, with fur, once upon a time.“After the ceremony, I felt hollow.Like someone had scooped out everything that made me whole and left just enough to keep me functioning.”
“Yet you rebuilt yourself,” Damien said, genuine admiration warming his voice.“Created a new identity, a new profession.Found ways to provide for your child without pack support.”
“Had to,” I said simply.“Aria needed me functioning, not wallowing in self-pity.”
“Many would have broken under such circumstances.”His hand moved across the bench toward mine, not quite touching but close enough that I could feel the coolness radiating from his skin.
“Oh, I did break,” I admitted.“Maybe my nickname ‘The Ghost’ is just what grew from the dead pieces.”
The confession hung between us, raw and honest in a way I rarely allowed myself to be.Damien’s fingers finally bridged the gap between us, cool against my warm skin as they intertwined with mine.
