Chapter 12 Karina
Karina
Damien’s long legs stretch out like he owns not just the room, but the ground beneath it. One arm drapes lazily over the armrest, the other resting on his thigh, and yet there’s nothing casual about him.
“This was your idea, kitten,” he says, his smirk slow and deliberate. “If you want to get to know me, you’re the one who has to start talking. Ask me something.”
I lean back against the couch cushion, crossing my legs to keep from fidgeting.
What do I even ask a man like him? My mind is spinning with a thousand questions, but they all feel too invasive or too trivial.
I've never been good at this—getting to know people.
I'm the one who sits in the corner at parties, the one who listens rather than speaks. It’s why I have avoided blind dates like the plague.
Conversation starters are just not my cup of tea.
“Okay, um, tell me about your family.” Jesus. That’s what I start with? Why am I so awkward with this stuff?
Something flickers across his face—a tightening around his eyes, a slight clench of his jaw. “What about them?”
“Everything. Anything.” I shrug, trying to appear casual when nothing about this situation is casual. “You're an alpha's son. That seems like a big deal.”
“My father is Hudson Marek, Alpha of the Northern Territories. My mother, Helena, is his Luna. I have one sister, Bella.”
The way he says his sister's name—softer, almost protective—catches my attention. “You're close with her?”
“Was. She was kidnapped. Under my watch.”
My heart skips. “Is she—”
“She's alive.” He cuts me off. “But she's not the same. None of us are.”
“If she was kidnapped, why are you here instead of with your family?”
The muscle in his jaw twitches, and for a moment, I think he might not answer.
“It was my fault. All of it. I was supposed to be guarding her at a pack gathering. She wanted to slip away to meet some boy she liked.” A bitter laugh escapes him. “I gave her twenty minutes. Told her I'd cover for her with our father.”
“Twenty minutes turned into thirty. Then an hour. When I went to find her, all I discovered was her scent mixed with blood and strangers.”
“That's not your fault,” I add, leaning forward. “You couldn't have known—”
“I should have known. I'm the alpha's son.
The future leader. I'm supposed to protect what's mine…I found her three days later. The guy she had met up with turned out to be a lower level alpha from a small pack. She was alive, a fresh mark on her neck. Had I been ten minutes later, he would have forced her into the full mating bond.”
The realization hits me like a slap across the face.
“That's why you get so angry when I waver.”
His eyes snap to mine, suddenly razor-sharp. “What?”
“You couldn’t protect her from being claimed against her will,” I say, the truth slotting together in my mind. “You’re terrified the same thing will happen to me.”
Damien goes completely still. The kind of stillness that makes prey animals freeze in terror. “Don't,” he warns.
But I can't stop, not now that I see it so clearly. “Every time I question what’s between us, I'm reminding you of your failure to protect her. Every time I push back, I'm—”
“Enough.” He stands in one fluid motion, towering over me. “This isn't about Bella.”
“Isn't it?” I stand too, refusing to be intimidated even as my wolf cowers. “You're punishing yourself through me. Making yourself endure this because you think you deserve to suffer.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the change in his scent betrays him, sharp and tense—instinct recoiling from what I’m stripping bare, from what he’s terrified I’ll expose.
“I'm right, aren't I?” I press further, emboldened by the subtle shift in his demeanor. “You see me as your redemption for your father’s punishment.”
“My father sent me away to learn discipline,” he growls, pacing now, a caged predator with nowhere to run. “To learn the consequences of putting personal desires above pack duty.”
“And what was your personal desire that day? To give your sister a moment of freedom?”
He stops pacing, his back to me, shoulders rigid. “She begged me. Said she just wanted to feel normal for once. Just twenty minutes of being a regular girl, not the alpha's daughter.”
I approach him slowly, careful not to startle. “That sounds like compassion to me, not failure.”
“Compassion gets wolves killed.” He turns to face me, his expression hardened again. “My father made that perfectly clear.”
“Is that why you became the Reaper? To prove you could be ruthless enough?”
“I became the Reaper because it was the role Anselm needed filled. The role my father assigned me.”
“The role, or the punishment?”
“Does it matter?” He shrugs, but the casualness is forced. “I'm good at it.”
“Too good at it. That's what scares you.”
“You think you've got me all figured out after one day?”
“I think I'm starting to.” I reach out, hesitating before my fingers make contact with his arm. When he doesn't pull away, I let my palm rest against his bicep. “I think you're terrified that you've become exactly what your father wanted—a weapon. The Reaper.”
“You don't know what I am.”
“Then tell me.” I move my hand up to his shoulder, then to his face, cupping his jaw. The stubble there is rough against my palm, and I feel him tense at the contact before leaning into it slightly. “Tell me who Damien Marek is when he's not being the Reaper.”
He laughs, the sound hollow, brittle, without warmth. “I don’t think I remember anymore.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Believe what you want.” The dismissal cuts, but there’s something in the way his shoulders tense—something raw he can’t quite cover—that makes me press harder.
“Ask me something else,” he says abruptly, folding his arms tight across his chest like a shield.
I bite my lip, weighing my options. There’s one question that’s been burning since breakfast.
“Tell me about the DeLupo girl,” I say carefully. “The one Anselm mentioned. The one your father picked for you.”
Damien goes still, the shift in his expression subtle but unmistakable. His jaw locks, a muscle ticking there, and though he schools his features into indifference, I catch the flicker of surprise before the mask settles into place.
“Selena DeLupo,” he says, the name falling from his lips with practiced ease. “Daughter of the Oregon Alpha. Twenty-four. Born wolf. Trained from birth to be a Luna.”
“That's her résumé,” I point out. “Not who she is.”
He shrugs. “I've met her exactly three times. Formal pack functions. We exchanged maybe fifty words total.”
“But your father arranged the match for you?”
“Not exactly arranged. More like...strongly encouraged.” His jaw tightens. “The DeLupo pack rules significant territory in the Pacific Northwest. An alliance through mating would double our combined influence.”
I swallow hard, trying to ignore the knot forming in my stomach. “And now? Am I stepping on her toes if I accept our mating?”
A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he looks away. “The arrangement was never formalized. No contracts signed, no ceremonies planned. Just...expectations.”
“That's not what I asked.” I step closer. “Does it ruin her chances at finding someone else?”
“Selena will have no shortage of suitors,” he says flatly. “She's what every pack wants for their Luna.”
“But not what you wanted?”
“I never thought about what I wanted. It wasn't relevant.”
“And now?”
“Now everything's different,” he admits, the words rough and unsteady. “You changed everything the moment I caught your scent.”
My heart hammers against my ribs at the raw honesty etched into his features. “How?”
He reaches up, covering my hand with his, where it still rests against his jaw.
“Because for the first time in my life, I want something that's mine.
Not my father's choice, not a political alliance, not a duty to fulfill.” His thumb strokes across my knuckles. “I want something that is wholly mine.”
“What if I'm not worth it?” The question escapes before I can stop it, my own fears spilling out. “What if I'm not strong enough for this world?
For a moment, I think he'll pull away, erect those walls again. Instead, he cups my face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who deals in death.
“Worth it?” The word escapes him like it physically pains him. “You don't understand what you are, do you?”
I try to look away, but he holds me firmly.
“Listen to me, Karina. You survived for years on your own, without a pack, without training. You built a life among humans while carrying a secret that would have destroyed you if discovered.” His thumbs brush across my cheekbones. “That kind of strength isn't taught. It's born.”
“But I'm not like Selena. I don't know pack politics or wolf customs. I didn't even know mates existed until I met you.”
“Good.” The word surprises me. “I've had enough of politics and customs to last ten lifetimes. What I need isn't another wolf who knows how to play the game. What I need is someone who reminds me there's more to life than power struggles and territory disputes.”
My wolf preens at his words, stretching beneath my skin with satisfaction. But the human part of me isn't so easily convinced.
“And what happens when your father finds out you've chosen a stray over his political alliance? What happens when he calls you home?”
Damien's jaw tightens at the mention of his father, but his hands don't leave my face. “Then I deal with the consequences.”
“Just like that? You'd risk everything—your pack, your birthright, your family—for me?”
“You're not just someone. You're the other half of my soul. It means that losing you would be like losing half of myself. It means that no title, no territory, no alliance is worth more than what we have.” His thumbs trace my jawline.
“It means I'd burn down everything I've ever known before I'd let anyone take you from me. I would rather die than live without you, Karina.”
The other half of my soul.