Dane's POV
The moment I stepped through the door, the air changed.
Warm. Scented faintly of herbs and honey and something else. Something alive. My wolf stirred immediately, recognizing what my mind still refused to name.
Donna.
She was sitting near the window, wrapped in soft linen and fading light, her hair damp from a bath.
The golden sunset spilled over her skin, making her look unreal and too fragile for the world I ruled, too human for the kind of bond we shared.
But what truly caught me off guard wasn't her.
It was Clara.
The little maid was standing beside her, smiling while arranging the tray on the table. The sight nearly made me stop in the doorway. Clara had never smiled at anyone but my mother.
She didn't trust easily; she barely spoke to the guards, and she avoided most of the household like shadows avoided fire.
And yet, here she was. Laughing softly, whispering something that made Donna's lips curve in a faint smile.
My brow furrowed. "I see you're making friends quickly," I said dryly.
Both of them jumped. Clara turned so fast she almost tripped on her skirt. "A-Alpha!"
Donna's eyes snapped toward me, wide and startled. For a brief second, our gazes locked and the bond flared again, sharp and undeniable. My pulse kicked hard.
She looked… different from the woman I'd carried out of that auction hall. There was color in her cheeks now, light in her eyes. She was still bruised, still too thin, but alive.
Clara bowed quickly, fumbling with her apron. "I wasn't… we weren't…."
"What were you talking about?" I asked, keeping my tone casual, though curiosity itched at the edges of my control.
Clara's eyes darted nervously between us. "Nothing, Alpha! Just…food. I was just reminding Luna, I mean, Donna to eat."
Donna glanced at her, clearly trying not to smile.
Clara took that as her cue to flee. "I should go now! Lady Leona said I must polish the dining silver before dark." She curtsied so fast she almost fell again, then darted out of the room like a frightened rabbit, closing the door behind her.
Silence settled.
I exhaled, shaking my head faintly. "That girl fears me more than the Goddess herself."
Donna's lips curved slightly. "She seems sweet."
"She is. Just… selective about people." I met her gaze again. "You must have made an impression."
She shrugged lightly. "I didn't do anything."
That, somehow, didn't surprise me. There was something about her, quiet but commanding, the kind of presence that didn't need effort to draw others in.
I cleared my throat, trying to steady the sudden weight in my chest. "My mother told me to come see you," I said finally. "I would've come sooner, but…" I hesitated. "I'm sorry I'm late."
Her expression softened, wary but calm. "You don't have to apologize, Alpha. I'm fine."
The way she said Alpha made something flicker inside me, distance wrapped in politeness. Like she was keeping me at arm's length, even when fate had already tied us together.
I took a few slow steps closer. "How are you feeling?"
She looked down at her hands, fingers tracing invisible lines across the table. "I don't know," she admitted quietly.
"Everything feels… heavy. Strange. I woke up in a place I don't recognize, surrounded by people who call me something I'm not. And then I find out that the man who bought me.." Her eyes lifted to mine. "is my mate."
Her honesty hit like a blow.
I didn't flinch, though part of me wanted to. "That's a lot to take in."
She gave a short laugh, without humor. "That's one way to put it."
Silence again. The kind that wasn't empty but charged like lightning before a storm.
Then, unexpectedly, I laughed.
Her brow furrowed immediately, confusion flashing across her face. "What's funny?"
"You," I said, still half smiling.
Her frown deepened. "Me?"
"The way your brow does that," I said, pointing lightly to my own forehead. "It furrows when you're trying to make sense of something. It's…" I hesitated, realizing how foolish it sounded, then finished quietly, "...cute."
Her eyes widened, surprise flickering before she looked away quickly, hiding whatever emotion had crossed her face.
"I don't think anyone's ever called me that before," she murmured.
"Then they were blind," I said before I could stop myself.
That made her glance up again and for a moment, the air between us tensed. The scent of her, the faint warmth of her skin, the bond humming faintly in the air, it was all too much, too close, too dangerous.
I forced myself to take a small step back, clearing my throat. "You shouldn't push yourself," I said softly. "You're safe here. That's all that matters for now."
"Safe," she echoed quietly, as if testing the word.
I nodded. "Everything will be answered in due time, Donna. You have my word."
She studied me, her eyes searching, as if weighing whether to believe me or not. I didn't blame her.
Words meant little to someone who'd spent her life being lied to by men in power.
When she finally looked away, I felt both relieved and disappointed.
To break the tension, I gestured toward the window. "If you want," I said, "I can show you around tomorrow. The manor, the gardens, the training fields. It might help you feel less… caged."
Her gaze snapped back to me, something flickering there — uncertainty, curiosity, maybe even defiance.
"Why would you want to do that?" she asked softly.
Because I want to understand you. Because the bond won't let me stay away. Because every second I spend near you feels like breathing after drowning.
None of those were things I could say.
Instead, I offered a small smile. "Because it's easier to find peace in a place when you've seen its corners. And because my mother insists I should start acting like a proper host."
That made her lips twitch almost a smile.
"I see," she said.
"So?" I asked quietly. "Will you let me?"
She hesitated, then nodded once. "Tomorrow."
Something eased in my heart at that single word.
I inclined my head in acknowledgment. "Tomorrow, then."
The room fell into a comfortable silence. The sunlight had faded completely now, replaced by the soft orange glow of the candles Clara had left behind. It painted Donna's face in warmth, softening the sharp edges of exhaustion.
I wanted to say something else, something that would make her feel less like a prisoner and more like she belonged, but the words wouldn't come.
So I did what I rarely did: I turned toward the door, giving her space.
"Rest, Donna," I said quietly. "You'll need your strength."
Her voice followed me as I reached for the handle. "Goodnight, Alpha."
I paused, looking back just once. Her eyes caught the candlelight, steady, unreadable.
"Goodnight, Donna."
Then I left, though my wolf didn't want to. He wanted to stay behind, he was pacing restlessly inside my mind, whisper
ing one truth I couldn't shake no matter how hard I tried.
That woman was mine. And fate, cruel as ever, had finally come to collect its due.