Chapter 105: Whispers of War
The night was thick with tension, the air between them charged with something more than just the looming battle ahead.
Damian’s grip on Isla tightened as if she might slip away. He had always been protective, but this, this was different. He had nearly lost her and the life growing inside of her. He couldn’t bare the thought of what he would do without them. What was all his strength, intelligence and experience worth for if he lost his soul?
He couldn’t forget the way she had collapsed, the healer’s grave expression, the weight of her father’s revelations. It haunted him, feeding the primal fear that clawed at his chest.
She wasn’t just his mate. She was carrying something more, an unknown extraordinary power. But with such power came the weight of responsibility, as well as unprecedented danger. Something that every enemy would seek to control or destroy and yet, in this moment, all he could think about was how much he needed her.
Isla felt the shift before Damian even spoke.
The way his fingers traced her skin absentmindedly, his jaw clenched, his body wound tight with barely contained emotion. She understood. He was afraid and when Damian was afraid, he acted.
So when his lips brushed against her temple, slow and reverent, she turned toward him, pressing her body against his.
A silent invitation. His breath hitched. She could feel the war within him, his need battling with his restraint. But she didn’t want restraint. Not tonight.
So she whispered, “Don’t hold back.”
Something in him snapped. Damian crushed his lips against hers, a deep growl vibrating in his chest as he pinned her beneath him. The weight of him, the heat of him, it sent a shiver down her spine.
She arched against him, her breath catching as his mouth claimed hers again, rougher this time, desperately pushing his tongue and savouring her mouth. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, exploring the hard lines of his chest, the heat of his skin branding her palms. He groaned into her mouth, as if the feel of her was too much.
His lips trailed along her jaw, down her neck, lingering at the hollow of her throat where her pulse thundered. Each kiss left a trail of fire in its wake, his teeth grazing her skin with just enough pressure to make her gasp. When he nipped her collarbone and soothed it with his tongue, her core started to drip.
“You drive me completely insane,” he growled against her skin.
His hands gripped her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until her core was in plain sight. She wrapped her legs around his shoulders, his tongue fit perfectly in between her juicy folds. The friction sent sparks skittering up her spine. She clung to him, her fingers buried in his hair, her body aching with need.
She was made for him, and he was made for her, every breath, every touch, a promise unspoken yet undeniable.
They had been here before, wrapped in each other, lost in their bond. But this time, it was different. This time, there was something else. A hunger. A fear. A need to claim and be claimed and when Damian whispered her name, raw and possessive, and that is when Isla that no matter what war came, no matter what bloodline cursed her.
She would always belong to him.
In a far corner of the world, Brienne stared at the stone walls of her prison, her hands clenched at her sides.
She had been here for days, no, weeks, trapped, questioned, pushed to the edge of something she didn’t understand and Vincent, damn him, was always watching and waiting. Tonight was no different.
“You’re fighting something you don’t even understand,” Vincent murmured, stepping into the dim candlelight.
Brienne’s jaw tightened. “I understand plenty.”
He smirked, golden eyes gleaming. “Then tell me, why do you feel it?”
She stiffened because she did feel it.
That strange, inexplicable pull. That connection that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with something older. She couldn’t believe her luck. Something deep in her blood was calling.
Vincent stepped closer, his voice softer now. “You know there’s more to this.”
Brienne refused to look at him because deep down, she knew he was right and that terrified her more than any chain ever could.
Alaine stormed into the training yard, her body still thrumming with too much after what had happened with Leo. Damn him and damn his confidence, his smirks, his hands. She could still feel his touch, the way his lips had claimed hers like a challenge.
And the worst part?
She had pushed him to do it, more, because she just couldn’t get enough of him. He was her drug.
A sharp voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Running from something?”
She spun to find Leo leaning casually against a wooden post, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk still on his lips.
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t run.”
His gaze darkened. “Good.”
Then, without warning, he moved. Fast.
Alaine barely had time to react before Leo had her caged against the post, his arms braced on either side of her. Her pulse spiked.
In the depths of the fortress, Isla’s father stood alone, his gaze fixed on the flames in the hearth.
He had told them the truth, at least, part of it.
But there was something else. Something he hadn’t said because the golden-eyed wolves were not just protectors. They were destroyers and if Isla’s child inherited their full power…
Not even Damian would be able to stop what came next.