Chapter 9 - Damian
I feel Sophie’s body tense while I hold her tightly, and even if I may not be able to read her mind, her body language is enough of an indicator that she’s having second thoughts about finding comfort in my arms.
Two parts of her are in a tug-of-war, one part gravitating toward me because of the fated mate bond, while the other remains hostile and distrusting, based on what happened between us in the past.
I don’t allow the latter to deter me, keeping my arms secured around her to allow her to go through whatever she needs to feel right now. I heard her murmuring in her sleep, and those murmurs quickly turned to a sob that prompted me to come into her room and lift her to my chest.
She’s had a crazy night, wielding powers neither of us was aware she had to begin with, and then Anastasia was called in by the council to check up on her upon seeing what happened.
It’s not like I had to call the council in, but Sophie burning the demon to ashes wasn’t exactly discreet, and the others saw it happening, including the council, who’d gathered in Red Moon territory when the attack was called in.
I purse my lips, wishing the incident had been kept a secret, at least long enough for us to figure out what happened.
The council gathered for a meeting last night, but I didn’t even attend, too worried about Sophie’s condition to leave the house after she came rushing back in.
The horror was written clearly in her eyes when she saw me in the kitchen, and she bolted for the bedroom without a word.
Sophie Torres is unraveling into something we’re not sure of, and I can only imagine how frightened she is. I can feel it in the way her body trembles against my chest, and I rock her gently to soothe her, wanting to be her steady anchor despite how unsure I am of what’s going on.
Her sniffling stops, and I feel her body doing the final tense-up, turning rigid as she lifts her head and meets my eyes with a scowl.
Without saying a word, I already know what that look means, and before she can shove me away or throw nasty words at me, I remove my arms from around her and shift to the edge of the bed.
“Wh—what are you doing here?” she asks, not sparing me from any bitterness despite my pulling away.
“I heard you crying in your sleep,” I tell her earnestly, but honesty is no saving grace when Sophie doesn’t trust a word I say.
The past hangs over us like a dark cloud, despite anything I try to bring forth, clear skies. And it storms when she glares at me through accusing eyes, hugging her knees to her chest like a defense mechanism to keep me out.
“You didn’t need to come in. I would have been fine.”
“I don’t doubt you would have been, but I wanted to check up on you,” I say, to which Sophie responds by sliding further between her blankets and turning her back to me.
“I’m going back to sleep,” she murmurs against her pillow, and I get to my feet, watching the back of her head as if I’m half-expecting her to turn. It’s like I know she hasn’t closed her eyes, and she’s waiting with bated breath for me to leave the room.
“Good night, Sophie,” I sigh defeatedly, turning toward the door and dragging myself out. I close the door behind me when I leave the bedroom, but I stand outside, still feeling the tingles in my fingers from when I held her.
Making close contact with her is a reminder of our sacred bond, but it also serves as a reminder of the extent of our history.
I didn’t just break up with her; I rejected my true mate.
She doesn’t understand what it means, or why her feelings of resentment are so strong, but it’s because it goes deeper than any ordinary relationship.
A fated mate bond was broken, and now I have to find a way to repair it.
I know Sophie doesn’t trust a word I say, and that’s why I decided to try a different approach to make her believe. With everything that’s happening to her, she needs to know that I’m not making any of this up, and she’s not going crazy.
***
“Good morning, Sophie,” I greet her when she enters the kitchen hesitantly, her eyes betraying the rest of her face when they flit to the table, her nostrils following that betrayal as they flare when she spots the breakfast I’d prepared.
I take that as my cue to gesture to the table, but she scrunches her nose and crosses her arms before I can get a word out.
I sigh as I set the spoon down and lift the bowl of scrambled eggs before carrying it to the table. “You should eat.”
“I’m not—”
I stop her when I look up with a stern expression, too exhausted for this constant back and forth between us. “Sit, Sophie. Eat. There is something I want to show you when we’re done.”
My firm tone does the trick, and instead of defiance, Sophie chooses to sit down and quietly have her breakfast. I do the same, not using words that will most likely fall on deaf ears.
That’s why I have to show her. When we’re done with breakfast—which is the most awkward meal I’ve ever had in silence—I clear the table while Sophie remains in her chair, unmoving, as if she’s suddenly too afraid.
Though I mentally chastise myself for being too harsh, too firm, I’ve come to learn that it’s the only way to get things done.
At least until she trusts me enough to stop being stubborn or defiant.
“Come on,” I say, gesturing to the front door with a brisk nod. “I think it’s time you saw what Red Moon looks like on a bright summer’s day.”
Sophie flinches at the word “summer” as if I’d thrown salt in an open wound. As I turn and glance at the calendar on the fridge, I suck in a breath when I see what day it is.
It’s still June.
Two years ago, at this time, I broke up with Sophie.
Shit.
I hear the chair grazing the wooden floorboards as she decides to follow me, and when I’m at the door, I hold it open until she steps out onto the porch.
The sun’s warm rays kiss her cheeks with a soft glow that makes her appear ethereal, and she closes her eyes as if she’s basking in a breath of fresh air, allowing me to stare at her with admiration.
Apart from the flicker of fear of the unknown we both felt yesterday, I’ve been mesmerized by Sophie, as I am right now, while she does the simplest things, like breathing.
My inner wolf responds with an urge to reach out and pull her into my arms, the bond humming underneath my skin and in my fingertips.
I take a deep breath to calm my senses, to regain my composure before I do something she’ll regret.
I know I wouldn’t have any regrets if I tugged her forward and crushed my lips to hers.
Curling my hands into fists of frustration at my sides, I maintain my firm, deep tone when I tell her to follow me.
The valley hums with life despite the privacy, its seclusion between the mountains in Bitterroot, the river’s whispering flow adding to its serenity. I lead Sophie down the hiking trail from my cabin into the forest, which opens up to a clearing in the woods that’s hidden from the rest of humanity.
I stop and point out the cabins hidden between the trees. “The other members of Red Moon live in those hidden cabins,” I say, and Sophie follows my pointed finger.
“Red Moon?” she asks with a frown, and I nod.
“Red Moon is the name of the pack.”
“The wolf pack?” she chuckles sarcastically.
“Werewolf pack,” I correct her, continuing down the path that leads to our training cave at the base of the mountain.
As we approach, I hold out an arm in front of her to slow her down, pointing at the group of trainees being led by Delta Callum.
He instructs a young wolf to step out of the cave, then nods at him to give him the go-ahead to shift.
“See that young man over there?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s gonna shapeshift,” I say matter-of-factly, and feel the air change with Sophie’s curiosity.
It’s like she’s holding her breath, watching as bone and sinew snap and morph from human to wolf.
The youngster lands on his front paws, the earth trembling slightly like a breath that welcomes his form, and that’s when Sophie exhales.
I turn to her then, seeing the look on her face that borders on awe and shock, her face paling, her brows furrowed.
“It can’t be…” she whispers, blinking as if to snap herself out of the illusion she thinks she’s seeing.
“Come on,” I say, nodding toward the river where the sound of youthful cheers can be heard. “There’s a school down there.”
“A school…?” Sophie turns her frown to me.
“Uh-huh. And a clinic, as well as a library and a museum.”
She nods hesitantly as she follows me down toward the river until the trees open up to a meadow where children play, collecting clay from the riverbank that will be used in their art class.
Sophie watches as the children race back to my sister, and she takes a deep breath, her eyes twinkling as if it’s all starting to make sense.
I point out the cabins housing the library and the clinic on either end, and Sophie’s eyes roam our little sanctuary in the valley with gentle curiosity.
“Werewolves, huh? All of them?”
“Yes. All of us. We live in the valley, away from human routes, hiding, protecting each other and humans from the shadows, so they never learn of our existence. It’s better this way. If they knew, we’d risk being exploited or harmed.”
“Humans fear what they don’t believe in…” she whispers, and I nod gently even though she doesn’t look at me.
“Do you believe now? Everything I’ve told you is true.”
There’s a moment of silence that stretches before she finally tears her eyes from the children and turns to me. “Is that why…?” Her voice tapers off, and her eyes flash with a glint of sadness.
“Yes,” I reply as I hang my head, knowing what the question is even if she doesn’t speak it fully. “It’s no excuse, but it’s the reason why I did what I did in the past. I’m sorry.”
Sophie gulps and tears her eyes away as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I wanna go back to the cabin, please.”