Chapter 76 She is safe
Sebastian POV
The door has barely finished slamming open before she is on me.
There is no warning beyond the split second where our eyes meet, no time to speak her name, no time to reach for her gently the way I intended when I felt her pain through the bond and came running like something inside me was being torn apart alongside her, because the moment I see her, truly see her.. I understand instantly that something is wrong in a way I have never felt before.
Her scent hits me first.
Not just Amara.
Not just my mate.
Something else layered beneath it, sharp and dark and unfamiliar in a way that makes every instinct I have snap awake at once.
Then she moves.
Fast.
Faster than I have ever seen her move before.
The distance between us disappears in less than a breath, and I barely have time to brace before she collides with me, the force of it driving me back a step as her hands grip my shoulders with surprising strength.
“Amara-“
My words never finish.
Her mouth is on my neck.
Teeth sinking in.
Hard.
A sharp, burning pain flares instantly as her fangs pierce my skin, deeper than they should, deeper than anything wolf instinct would allow, and for half a second my body locks in shock, in pure disbelief at what is happening, because this is not how a mate marks, this is not how a wolf claims, this is something else entirely.
Then the pain shifts.
Not less.
Different.
Her grip tightens, her body pressed flush against mine as she feeds, and the bond between us explodes wide open, flooding me with everything she is feeling in that moment.
Hunger.
Overwhelming.
Unrelenting.
It drowns out everything else, every rational thought, every piece of her I recognize.. until there is nothing left but need, raw and consuming in a way that makes my chest tighten painfully.
“Amara,” I try again, my voice lower now, strained, one hand coming up instinctively to steady her even as the other tightens at her waist to keep her from losing balance, because despite everything, despite the shock, despite the pain, my first instinct is not to push her away.
It is to hold her.
To keep her grounded.
To make sure she does not hurt herself worse.
But she does not respond.
There is no recognition in her.
No hesitation.
Just that hunger as she draws from me again, deeper this time, and a rough sound escapes her throat that sends something sharp and protective through me even as my blood leaves my body in steady pulls.
The bond twists with it.
Her relief.
Her need easing just slightly with each second.
Gods.
My jaw tightens, my head tipping back slightly as I force myself to stay upright, to stay steady, even as my body reacts to the loss of blood, even as instinct screams at me to pull away, to stop this before it goes too far.
I do not.
Because it is her.
Because I can feel her drowning in something she cannot control.
Because if this is what she needs to survive whatever is happening to her, then I will endure it.
“Easy,” I murmur, though the word comes out rougher than I intend, my hand sliding up her back in a slow, grounding motion, trying to reach her through the chaos of whatever has taken hold. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”
For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of her breathing, uneven and sharp against my skin, the steady pull of her feeding, the bond thrumming between us like a live wire.
Then..
“Enough.”
Sybil’s voice cuts through the room like a blade.
I do not see her enter.
I feel the shift of magic before anything else, the air tightening, pulling, reacting to her presence as she steps forward without hesitation, her gaze locking onto Amara with sharp, assessing focus.
“She’s not in control,” I say quickly, my grip tightening slightly on Amara as if I need to make sure no one mistakes this for something else, for aggression, for danger directed outward rather than inward.
“I know,” Sybil replies, already moving.
There is no panic in her.
No hesitation.
Just precision.
Her hand lifts, fingers curling slightly as something ancient and quiet hums beneath her skin, and I feel the magic gather before it is even released, a soft, heavy weight pressing into the air around us.
“Amara,” she says, her voice lower now, laced with something deeper than sound, something that reaches into the space between breaths. “Sleep.”
The word lands.
And everything stops.
Amara goes still against me instantly, her body slackening as the spell takes hold, her grip loosening, her teeth slipping free from my skin as the hunger is cut off abruptly.
I catch her before she can fall.
Her weight collapses fully into me, unconscious and unresisting, her head falling against my shoulder as her breathing evens out slowly, unnaturally calm compared to the chaos from moments before.
For a second, I just stand there.
Holding her.
Making sure she is truly still.
Truly safe.
Then the pain at my neck flares again, sharper now that the adrenaline is settling, and I reach up instinctively, my fingers brushing over the wound she left behind.
Or what should be a wound.
I pause.
Because it is not what I expect.
It is already healing.
But not cleanly.
Not normally.
“Sebastian,” Luther mutters from somewhere behind me, his tone shifting as he steps closer. “You’re going to want to see this.”
I glance toward Sybil briefly, who gives a small, knowing nod, then shift carefully, keeping one arm securely around Amara as I move toward the nearest reflective surface.
The polished metal of a decorative panel along the wall catches enough light for me to see.
My breath stills.
The mark is there.
Dark against my skin.
But it is not just the familiar shape of a wolf’s claim.
It twists.
Intertwines.
Two patterns woven together into something entirely new, something that should not exist and yet does, the curved lines of a Lycan mark blending seamlessly with something sharper, more intricate, unmistakably vampiric.
For a moment, none of us speak.
“Well,” Luther exhales slowly, folding his arms as he leans slightly to get a better look. “That’s new.”
Aven huffs quietly beside him, though there is a hint of something like amusement in her expression despite the situation. “Ive seen all kinds of marks. But that’s.. something else.”
I tilt my head slightly, studying it, feeling the faint pulse of it beneath my skin, the way it connects back to her through the bond, stronger now, deeper, more layered than it was before.
Sybil steps closer, her gaze sharp as she examines it without touching. “It’s not unstable,” she says after a moment, almost thoughtfully. “That’s.. interesting.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Luther mutters.
I let out a slow breath, my focus shifting back to the weight in my arms.
Amara.
Still.
Alive.
Breathing.
“That can wait,” I say quietly.
Because it can.
Because she cannot.
Sybil nods once. “Agreed. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
Carefully, I adjust my hold on her, lifting her fully without effort as I turn toward the door, already moving back toward our room.
No one argues.
No one stops me.
The walk back is quiet, the kind of silence that settles after something intense, something none of us fully understand yet but all of us know is important.
Significant.
When we reach the room, I lay her down gently on the bed, my movements slower now, more deliberate as I make sure she is comfortable, that she is not going to wake in pain or confusion or anything worse.
“She won’t wake for a while,” Sybil says from behind me as she steps closer, her voice calm, certain. “The spell will keep her under until her body finishes adjusting. It’s safer this way.”
I nod once, brushing a strand of hair back from Amara’s face, my thumb lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.
She looks peaceful.
Like none of this happened.
Like she is not in the middle of something that could change everything.
“Good,” I murmur.
Because she needs the rest.
Because whatever comes next, she is going to need her strength.
I straighten slowly, glancing once more at the mark reflected faintly in the glass across the room, then back at her.
Morning.
We will deal with it in the morning.
For now..
She is safe.
And that is enough.