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There was no precision in my attack. The blunt and powerful force only had one intention, one goal. I’ve been too rash, too desperate to do something that I didn’t think about the consequences of separating Tiana from Alyssa while she still had her claws deep into my mate’s throat.
“N-no,” I stammer, forcing the words out with sheer will as I fight my worst fears.
Alyssa’s motionless body is sprawled on the floor next to me. Her throat is slashed open, the blood flowing out of her in a small but steady stream from the wounds made by the wolf’s claws. Her brown eyes hold onto mine, silently saying goodbye.
“Please,” I plead quietly, begging whoever is willing to listen.
With great effort, I turn my body to the side and lift one arm to put a hand over her wounds. I don’t know how to help her. If I apply pressure on it to stop the bleeding, I’ll cut off her airway, but if I don’t do it, she will most certainly bleed out. I’ve no other option but to press gently but firmly, telling myself that she’s not getting blood instead of air inside her lungs anyway. This way, I might stop her from both bleeding out as well as drowning in her own life liquid.
I’m looking into her fearful brown eyes, searching for any sign of her wolf. She should’ve kickstarted the healing process by now. I can only hope that Tiana didn’t hurt her wolf too much, and that she’s working on closing the wounds.
“Hold on,” I beg, trying to communicate with my eyes just how much I need her to get through this. We have so much of life left to experience together, so much to discover about the new bond that unites us and the love that we didn’t give the chance yet to fully form and grow.
The blood drains from Alyssa’s face, and my is hand unable to stop the bleeding. Her eyelids begin to lower as her lips part. I can’t tell if she’s dying or only slipping into unconsciousness.
“Please,” I beg, desperate enough to sell my own soul for her life.
When Alyssa’s head falls to the side, a massive wave of emotion floods over me. It’s so intense that I need to let it out the only way I can. I open my mouth and let out a guttural scream, the sound so primal and animalistic that it’s foreign to my own ears.
That’s when something inexplicable happens. My hand that’s pressing against Alyssa’s wounds starts to heat up as if I suddenly developed the ability of a fire wielder. Instead of a flame coming out of my hand like it would with a fire user, there’s a ball of darkness that a distant part of me recognizes as the purest and holiest of abilities. Somehow, I managed to call on the rarest and most unique parts of Darkness. This sub-power only has one name and has only been wielded by a handful of users. I’ve just become one of the very few wolves that used the Sacred Darkness.
Underneath my touch, and with the help of the Sacred Darkness, Alyssa’s wounds begin to heal and her blood purifies as it seeps back into her body. I don’t have the time to admire what’s happening, nor do I spare an extra thought to it because, at that moment, Alyssa takes a breath, one that’s not weak nor shaky.
Her eyelids flutter open, locking straight onto mine. The color gradually returns to her cheeks, dispelling any visible signs of the spells that still affect me. The corners of her mouth lift into a small smile that makes my heart skip a beat.
I lean forward and gently press my lips against hers, wordlessly promising to protect her now and always. I’m never going through anything like we just went through again.
“Let’s go home,” I whisper against her soft lips.
CHAPTER 9
Garren
It’s been a long time since I’ve set foot inside the walls of Grey Manor. While the building itself hasn’t changed, I did. I’m not the same person I used to be the last time I was here. I’m not even the same wolf that used to run down these hallways.
With my fated mate on my arm, I enter my childhood home, and my future forever residence, with my head held high. I finally see that doing so in the past was a pure dickhead move, coming from a spoiled rich asshole that I was. Now, when I do it, I do it because I have a lot to be proud of and because I’m a person who doesn’t need to hide behind the arrogance and insecurities. Those things washed away when Blaine helped me cleanse my body of drugs and alcohol.
“Garren!” my mother cries out as soon as she sets her eyes on me when Alyssa and I enter the throne room, escorted by the Pack of Shadows.
For the first time ever, I willingly open my arms and welcome my mother’s warmth when she embraces me. I’m a head taller than her, which makes her hug all the more perfect as she presses her cheek against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, unsure of how else to show her just how glad I am to see her.
My mother’s earthy scent fills my nostrils, calming me down. The smell reminds me of love and happiness. Those are the two things I’ve always associated with her as a kid, but as a grown-up, they were also the reasons why I pushed her away. Not anymore.
“I missed you,” I whisper into her hair, sensing the slight tensing of her muscles as she realizes the importance of my confession.
My mother pulls away, breaking the hug that I didn’t know I yearned for since I was a kid. She gently sets her soft hand on my cheek and smiles. “Welcome home, Son.”
It’s not much, but it’s everything to me. Those three words carry the weight of the world, their meanings mattering more than an outside observer could ever hope to guess.
Acting out of my character again, I reach for her hand on my cheek and bring it to my lips. With my eyes still locked on hers, I slightly bend my head at the neck, giving her a barely perceptible, but not any less respectful bow, especially one that comes from the future king.
My mother’s eyes widen, and her mouth falls open, but her surprise only lasts a second. As someone who’s played the role of a queen for most of her life, she’s well-versed in creating masks. The one she wears now is an expression of relief and pride. Her brown eyes shine with love and a small smile on her lips speaks of happiness.
Even though the reunion with my mother felt like it lasted for at least half an hour, in reality, it wasn’t longer than two minutes, which is when my father joined us.
“Garren,” he greets me and though his voice is formal, his eyes look me up and down with a hint of worry creasing his brows. “Are you well?”
“Yes, Father,” I reply, subconsciously straightening my spine and pulling myself to my full height. Even though I don’t have anything to prove to him, the little child in me still yearns for his approval.
