Chapter 22 - Sophie
Fire answers me without pain now. That’s the first thing I notice.
Not the heat, not the glow curling around my palms, but the absence of the spike—the sharp, panicked rush that used to come with it, the way my chest would tighten as if my own power might tear me open from the inside.
Now it rises steadily, like my breath. Like something that has learned the shape of me.
I stand in the clearing behind the cabin, boots planted in damp earth, arms extended. The air hums faintly as the fire gathers, a controlled ribbon of warmth spiraling between my hands. It doesn’t lash out, it doesn’t flare, but it waits for my command, because I’m the one in control now.
“Hold it there,” Damian says from behind me, his voice sharp, but not in a commanding way. Just precise.
I do as he advises, and the fire stabilizes; its edges are clean and contained. I can feel it responding not to fear or urgency, but to intention—to my focus, my decision to let it exist without forcing it to perform. The realization settles deep in my bones, heavier than any praise could be.
“Good,” Damian murmurs. “Now, release it slowly.”
I let my fingers open, the fire dissipating in a soft exhale of heat, vanishing into the air without leaving scorch marks or smoke behind. The clearing remains intact. And so do I.
I lower my hands, breathing evenly, and only then do I become fully aware of how close he is.
Damian stands just behind my right shoulder, near enough that I can sense the cool pull of his water magic resting beneath his skin, quiet and watchful. He hasn’t touched me. He hasn’t needed to. Still, the awareness of him is constant, anchoring, but at the same time, maddening.
He circles me once, slow and deliberate, his gaze tracking the residual warmth in the air rather than my face. When he speaks again, his tone is thoughtful.
“I’m impressed. You’re not bracing for it anymore, like it's going to consume you.”
“No,” I say. “I don’t feel like I have to. It feels more controlled.”
He stops in front of me, just out of reach. His expression is focused, intent in a way that feels almost intimate—not hungry, not possessive. He's studying me as if I’m a puzzle he’s committed to understanding rather than claiming.
“But that’s the difference,” he says. “Fire resists being controlled through force. It responds to clarity.”
Something twists low in my chest at that. Not because of the words, but because of the way he's so calm, respectful, and restrained when he delivers them.
All I'm feeling is frustration!
This is worse than before.
Before, there had been heat in his gaze. Tension sharp enough to cut through. Now, there's space. Patience. The kind of careful distance that makes me aware of every inch between us.
“Again,” he says, stepping back to give me room.
I take a deep breath for composure, trying to push aside my frustration because it's distracting. I summon the fire once more, and it comes easily. No tremor. No surge. Just warmth gathering, shaping itself to my will as if it’s always known how this is supposed to feel.
Damian watches without interrupting, his presence steady but contained.
He doesn’t reach out, doesn’t correct me unless it’s necessary.
When I let go and allow my fire to retreat, all I’m left with is my frustration. He doesn't touch me, hardly meets my eyes, and this restraint is worse than his pursuit ever was.
The other night, I could have sworn he was going to kiss me, until his uncle showed up. Now, this restraint feels chosen, a conscious decision made out of thin air.
Unless I'm the one going insane.
We repeat the exercise until my muscles ache and the sun climbs higher, burning the mist away from the valley. I’m just beginning to settle into the rhythm—the quiet exchange of instruction and execution—when the air shifts.
Damian feels it at the same time I do.
James approaches from the tree line, his pace brisk, his expression tight. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, but he does offer me a quick bow before turning to Damian.
“Alpha…” he says, stopping a few feet away. “Scouts just reported new movement along the eastern ridge. And further south.”
Damian straightens immediately, the shift in him subtle but unmistakable. Command settles over him like a mantle. “Demons?”
“Not attacks,” James replies with a nod. “Presence, like they're probing. Pulling back when the soldiers get closer. They're picking them up through scent, but the demons aren't attacking.”
I glance between the two men, the unease creeping in despite myself.
“They’re testing us, but that means they're trying something new. Something different. Adapting, maybe,” Damian says quietly.
James nods. “Heinrich wants a meeting. The report came through him.”
Damian’s jaw tightens. He looks at me then—not with urgency, not with fear, but with something heavier. It's almost like calculation or consideration.
“I’ll be there,” he throws over his shoulder to James. “Alert the council.”
James turns and disappears back into the trees.
The clearing feels different now. Tighter. The ease of the training moment is gone, replaced by the familiar tension of a valley on edge. Damian exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck before meeting my gaze again.
“We’ll stop here for today,” he says. “Get some rest. Unless you want to join me for the meeting.”
A frown passes over my face, but I shake my head slowly, the fire still humming beneath my skin, unsettled. However, I've learned to trust my instincts, and right now, there isn't any major threat.
The demons aren't coming. Yet.
“I'd rather get some rest. I'm at the clinic today.”
Damian nods, holding my gaze for a moment while something unspoken flashes through his blue eyes. His lips quiver, like he's about to open them and speak, but then, he doesn't, and I feel my heart rattle between my ribs, like it's threatening to break.
As he turns to leave, the space between us stretches again, the unresolved tension pulling taut like a rubber band.
For the first time since my power began to steady, I realize it isn’t the fire that’s testing my control.
It’s everything that's not happening between Damian and me.
Blowing out an irritated breath from my lips, I stomp my boots back to the cabin, deciding to do what I do best.
Distract myself.
***
I feel the chaos before I can hear it, like looming danger approaching, the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickling at attention.
I look up from the first aid kit, hand hovering over the bandages, my gaze floating toward the window as a ring slashes through my eardrums, signaling for my attention.
Muffled voices become clearer when I near the window, steal toward it like I want to eavesdrop, but it’s only because I’m curious.
Usually, at this time of day, no one can be heard or seen outside the clinic.
Everyone is either making their way home to the cabins dispersed across the valley or reporting for night shift duty on the perimeters of Red Moon territory.
I’m the only one left in the clinic, since I spent most of the day tidying up the medical room. So, I steal to the window, hiding off to the side where no one can see me from outside.
“I’m not in the mood for this, Conan,” comes Damian’s voice, and I gasp, peeping through the curtain to find him facing the dark-haired man, a finger pointed at his face. “I warned you already—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Conan makes a shrewd face. “You’ll cut Iron Breath out of the pact, and we’ll be left to fend the demons off alone. But haven’t you considered that it’s your mate they’re after?”
“They’ve been after us for three years, Conan. She has nothing to do with this war.” I say this to shut him up, even if it isn’t entirely true.
“What if she does?” Conan sneers. “If that ritual found in the south was what led you to your fated mate, don’t you think the demons already knew? Maybe that’s why they’ve been after us? They’ve been trying to stop the emergence of fire again.”
Damian steps up to Conan, and the growl he lets out can be felt vibrating in my chest. My heart pounds as I watch him, hand curling into a fist, feeling heat rise inside my being.
“I don’t care why the demons are after us. That’s irrelevant. The point is that my people, your people, and Henry’s people are in danger. Utter another word against my fated mate, and don’t just kiss the pact goodbye, kiss your ass goodbye, too. Do I make myself clear?”
Conan must have seen something in Damian’s eyes, because he nods slowly, shoulders slouching, before they’re joined by the elder from Conan’s pack.
Gulping hard, there’s a fusion of arousal and anger awakening inside me. Anger because it’s the height of my frustration, and I just witnessed Damian defending me again while he keeps his distance from me.
By the time I’m done locking up the clinic and making my way to Damian’s cabin, I feel like I’m on the verge of exploding. The only thing stopping me from an instant outburst is the aroma of fresh food drifting out to the porch when I arrive.
Sighing as I push the door open, there’s a part of me that wants to be grateful, but there’s also the part that remains confused. What does any of this mean? Coming home to dinner like we've been married for years…
It’s only been a month, and Damian won’t even touch me again.
“I heard you outside the clinic…with Conan,” I admit tersely during dinner, keeping my gaze fixed on my glass. We’ve hardly said a word to each other since I walked inside, and I can’t stand how awkward the air feels.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” Damian sighs, hanging his head as his finger twitches on his fork. “Though I think Conan did that on purpose, so you would hear him. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I frown, lifting my head and noticing that Damian still doesn’t look at me. “For defending me in my absence? For standing up for me when you didn’t even know if I could hear you? Or are you sorry that you’ve been distancing yourself from me?”
Damian finally looks up, his eyes softening with both sadness and regret. “Sophie, I—”
“I don’t want to hear excuses, Damian. You’re confusing me. All of this is confusing.” I press a hand to my temple. “On one hand, you’re being patient and supportive, and on the other, you’re putting this distance between us as if you can’t feel the mate bond.”
A slight gasp escapes his lips, as if in surprise, his blue eyes flickering with the same emotion. “Of course I can feel it, Sophie.” His brows knit into a frown, like he’s chastising himself inwardly. “You think I can’t feel the way it’s pulling us together?”
“So, after everything that’s happened, you’re the one who’s running away from it?”
Damian takes a deep breath, biting his bottom lip.
“I’m not running away, Sophie, I promise.
I’m just…” his voice tapers off as he lowers his eyes to the plate, face contorting with a troubled look.
“I’m afraid of messing things up with you.
I’ve done it before. Not once, but twice.
And I can’t live with myself if I do it a third time. ”
My heart skips a beat, but I’m still left with confusion, because I’m not sure if I should be angry or grateful. I get that he doesn’t want to mess things up again, but I can’t help but feel frustrated that there isn’t any movement in our relationship.
“You’re the alpha of this entire wolf pack. You’re not supposed to be afraid,” I say, noticing how my words hurt him, as if I’d pierced a dagger into his chest. He flinches and gulps as I get to my feet, but I’m too hurt to stick around and wait for more excuses from him.
That’s why I retreat to my bedroom for the night, half-expecting him to follow me, but not surprised when he doesn’t. The unresolved tension weighs heavily on my heart as I slip into bed, curling up like a baby with my arms hugging my chest, rocking myself to sleep.
But not even sleep can take away the longing in my heart when it’s Damian I dream about.