The howls continued through the afternoon and into the evening.
I waited in our hut, my heart pounding with every distant cry, my mind spinning with everything that had happened. Damon's suspicious look. The kiss that should never have happened. The guilt that sat like a stone in my chest.
When the door finally opened, I jumped to my feet.
Damon stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the fading light. He was covered in dirt and blood—none of it his, I hoped—and his face was carved from stone.
"False alarm," he said flatly. "A rogue wolf, nothing more. The patrol handled it."
I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "Thank the moon."
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The sound of the latch clicking into place seemed impossibly loud.
"We need to talk." His voice was quiet, controlled—more terrifying than if he'd shouted.
"Damon, I can explain—"
"Can you?" He moved toward me, and I backed up instinctively until my shoulders hit the wall. "Because from where I was standing, it looked like my wife was coming out of my Beta's hut looking like she'd been crying. And I want to know why."
I opened my mouth, but no words came. What could I say? That I'd kissed him? That I'd wanted to? That every word Caleb had spoken last night was true, and that I felt it too?
Damon's eyes searched my face, and I watched the emotions play across his features—hurt, suspicion, and something darker. Something I couldn't name.
"Elara." He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body. "Tell me the truth. Did something happen between you and Caleb?"
"No." The word came out too fast, too defensive. "Nothing happened. I was changing his bandages. That's all."
"Then why do you look guilty?"
"Because you're looking at me like I've betrayed you!" My voice cracked. "Damon, I'm your mate. I chose you. I keep choosing you. But every time I'm near him, every time you look at me with suspicion, it makes me feel like you don't trust me at all."
Something flickered in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or understanding. But it was quickly masked by that darker emotion.
"I trust you," he said quietly. "But I don't trust him. I know what I saw in his eyes last night. I know what he feels."
"And yet you still let him be your Beta. You still trust him with your life."
"Because he's my brother. Because I've known him since we were children. Because I know that no matter what he feels, he would never act on it." Damon's jaw tightened. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
He was so close now, his body almost touching mine. I could smell him—leather and woodsmoke and something uniquely him. My heart was racing, but not from fear.
"Damon." I reached up and touched his face. "I'm yours. Only yours. Nothing is ever going to change that."
For a long moment, he just looked at me. Then, slowly, some of the tension left his shoulders. He leaned into my touch, his eyes closing.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I keep doubting you. I'm sorry I'm not better at this."
"You're learning." I traced my thumb along his jaw. "We both are."
He opened his eyes, and this time the darkness in them had shifted—from suspicion to something else. Something hot and intense that made my breath catch.
"Elara." His voice was rough. "I need you. Now."
There was no gentle request in his words, no tender question. It was a statement, a demand, and something in me responded to it.
"Then have me."
He kissed me then—not soft, not gentle. It was a claiming, a branding, a reminder of exactly who I belonged to. His hands were in my hair, tilting my head back, and I melted against him.
He walked me backward until my legs hit the bed, and then we were falling onto it together, a tangle of arms and legs and desperate need. His mouth left mine to trail down my neck, teeth grazing my skin in a way that made me gasp.
"You're mine," he growled against my throat. "Say it."
"I'm yours." My voice was breathless, broken. "Only yours."
His hands found the ties of my dress and pulled, not bothering with gentleness. The fabric tore, and I didn't care. I wanted this—wanted him—wanted to burn away every thought of Caleb with the fire of Damon's touch.
He pulled back just long enough to look at me, sprawled beneath him, my dress gaping open. His eyes were dark, almost black, and his chest heaved with ragged breaths.
"You're so beautiful," he breathed. "Do you know that? Do you know how much I want you?"
"Show me."
He did.
His mouth traced a path down my body, leaving fire in its wake. He kissed every inch of skin, lingering at the sensitive spots he'd already learned—the curve of my waist, the inside of my wrist, the hollow behind my knee. By the time he reached the apex of my thighs, I was trembling with need.
He looked up at me, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Tell me what you want."
"You. Please, Damon. I need you."
He lowered his head, and I cried out.
His mouth was skilled, relentless, driving me higher and higher until I was clutching the furs beneath me, my back arching off the bed. He didn't stop, didn't slow, just kept going until I shattered around him, my vision whiting out with the force of it.
Before I could come down, he was moving over me, positioning himself at my entrance. He paused there, his forehead against mine, both of us breathing hard.
"I love you," he whispered. "I know I don't say it enough. I know I'm terrible at showing it. But I love you, Elara. More than anything."
"Then show me," I whispered back. "Show me now."
He thrust into me, and I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper. The sensation was overwhelming—fullness and friction and the perfect weight of him above me.
He moved with a rhythm that was ancient, primal, as old as the wolves themselves. Each stroke pushed me higher, closer to the edge again. I dug my nails into his back, and he growled against my neck.
"That's it," he murmured. "Hold onto me. Let go. I've got you."
I came again with a cry, and this time he followed, his body shuddering against mine, his groan muffled against my shoulder.
For a long moment, we just lay there, tangled together, breathing as one. Then he rolled to the side, pulling me with him, keeping me close.
"Elara." His voice was soft now, all the darkness gone. "I'm sorry for doubting you. I'm sorry for being jealous. I just... I've never had anything like this before. Anyone like you. The thought of losing you..."
"You won't lose me." I pressed a kiss to his chest, over his heart. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
He held me tighter, and I felt safe. Loved. Wanted.
But even as I lay there in his arms, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered the truth I didn't want to acknowledge.
I'd kissed Caleb. I'd wanted it. And no matter how many times Damon claimed me, that truth wouldn't change.
I woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed again.
For a moment, panic seized me. Then I heard it—voices from outside, low and urgent. Damon and Caleb.
I crept to the door and listened.
"—can't keep doing this, Damon." Caleb's voice, strained. "Every time I'm near her, it gets harder. You have to understand."
"I understand better than you think." Damon's voice was quiet, controlled. "But she's my mate. There's nothing I can do about how you feel."
"I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm telling you because you're my brother, and I won't lie to you." A pause. "I love her. I know I shouldn't. I know it's wrong. But I do."
The words hit me like a physical blow, even though I'd heard them before.
"And what do you want me to say?" Damon's voice was tight. "That it's okay? That you can have her?"
"No. I want you to say that you trust me. That you know I'll never act on it. That I'll spend the rest of my life being the best Beta you've ever had, because it's the only way I can be near her without losing my mind."
Silence stretched between them, long and heavy.
Finally, Damon spoke. "I trust you, Caleb. With my life. With the pack. With her." A beat. "But if you ever hurt her—if you ever cross that line—I'll kill you myself."
"I know." Caleb's voice was soft, resigned. "I know."
I closed the door quietly and crept back to bed, my heart racing.
They'd had this conversation before. The night after I was rescued. And Damon had known all along.
He'd known, and he'd said nothing. He'd trusted Caleb, trusted me, trusted us to do the right thing.
And I'd kissed him anyway.
The guilt was a physical weight on my chest, crushing me. I lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, and wondered how I'd ever look either of them in the eye again.
When Damon finally slipped back into bed, I pretended to be asleep. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, and I let him.
But sleep didn't come.
And when morning dawned, I still hadn't figured out how to fix the mess I'd made.
The next few days passed in a blur of avoidance.
I threw myself into my duties, spending every waking hour in the healing hut or meeting with the pack elders or doing anything that kept me away from both Damon and Caleb. It was cowardly, I knew. But I didn't know what else to do.
Caleb seemed to understand. He kept his distance, communicating through Finn or other warriors, never putting himself in my path. It was a relief and a disappointment all at once.
Damon, for his part, seemed to sense that something had shifted. He didn't push, didn't ask questions. He just held me tighter at night and watched me with eyes that saw too much.
On the fourth day, everything changed.
I was in the healing hut, organizing supplies, when Finn burst through the door. His face was pale, his eyes wide with panic.
"Luna! You have to come quickly. It's Mira—the girl who thought someone was following her. She's gone."
I dropped the herbs I was holding. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?"
"Her hut is empty. Her things are scattered like there was a struggle. And there's blood on the floor." Finn's voice shook. "Beta Caleb is organizing a search party. Alpha wants you at the command hut. Now."
I ran.