20. Token of Devotion
TOKEN OF DEVOTION
At a certain point that night, the physician, whose name I still didn’t know, pushed me out of the room and told me to wait in the hearth room.
I didn’t go to the hearth, but rather just slid to the floor with my back leaning against the wall right outside the door that separated me from Damien. I hadn’t allowed myself to think much, focusing on getting Damien to safety, but now, I couldn’t stop my thoughts even if I wanted to.
I kept going back to the moment he shielded me from an arrow without a sliver of hesitation. And the way he still came to my rescue, fighting the vampire with all his might, even when poison was eating him from the inside.
He was ready to die for me ... But why?
Was it because of the mating mark? I’d only heard about the mark’s effect on the bearer but never heard that it would also mess up the giver’s mind to such an extent.
But if not the mark, then why? I was just some stranger he had only known for less than a month, someone who had challenged him every chance I got. Yes, we might have shared some intimate moments, but surely it was just a fling?
What if he couldn’t make it? What if I lost him?
That very thought was like a black chasm suddenly cleaving through the centre of my being. A darkness so thorough, so final, slowly drowning me.
I grabbed my hair, resting my forehead on the heels of my palms, trying to calm myself down and stop spiralling down that road. It wasn’t helping anyone.
I didn’t know how long I waited. The sun had risen when the door finally opened. I was dozing off from exhaustion, but was instantly jolted awake and scrambled to my feet.
The physician stepped out, looking frazzled but calm. She almost bumped into my chest, having not expected me to be standing right in front of the door.
“How is he?” I asked without waiting a single second.
“Stabilized,” she answered simply.
A wave of relief crashed over me, and my knees were weak, as though the anxiety that had kept my body tighter than a drawn bow string had finally been removed.
I braced one hand on the wall to gather myself, then I said, “Thank you, my lady ...”
She chuckled. “I’m no lady, call me Alma.”
“Alma,” I asked, “can I see him?”
“He hasn’t woken yet. The antidote I gave him has a soporific effect. He may sleep for another few hours. But you can see him.” She stepped aside, letting me pass.
My rushing steps slowed when I saw Damien lying on the operating table, which had now been converted into a makeshift bed.
His shoulder was already bandaged, his skin looked less ashen, and his chest rose and fell with a slow, steady cadence.
Morning sunlight sprinkled over his frame like golden dust, and his beautiful countenance looked peaceful and serene.
I gingerly approached him, afraid of waking him, even though I knew he was sleeping deeply and probably wouldn’t stir even if I shouted. I touched his face, sensing the warmth of vigour radiating from his skin, and something within me trembled with feelings I couldn’t name.
“The poison was vicious, but luckily, the queen had acclimated Damien’s body to resist all kinds of poison since he was merely a cub. I used to oppose it, but now it might have saved his life,” Alma said behind me.
I frowned, looking back at her. “Acclimated his body to ... poisons?”
“Yes. It involved feeding him small doses of all kinds of poison and letting his body build stronger defences through fighting them off. She had put him through it since he was very young. It was hard to watch because he could get very, very sick. Several times, I wasn’t even sure if he could make it.
But he survived, stronger than ever,” she said with a tranquillity of recounting something from the past, but all I heard was horror.
“His own mother poisoned him?” I gasped.
“She wanted to make sure her son is strong enough.” Alma shrugged.
I remembered Johnathan telling me Queen Seraphina was hard on Damien, but I didn’t think it was this extreme?!
“Does she do this to all her children?” What about Prince Valerian and Princess Cassandra? I wondered.
“No, only Damien,” Alma said, her eyes fixed on me, as though observing my reaction.
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you more, but you can ask Damien when he wakes up,” Alma said, pausing for a second, before adding, “You are his mate, right? He should tell you.”
Only then did I realize my shirt, which I had hastily put on, did not have a collar high enough to cover the bite mark on my scent gland.
No ... My heart lurched in panic as I covered the mark with my hand in vain. “I ... no ... it wasn’t ...”
“It’s okay,” she said, gently. “Whom other people want to mate is none of my business. Besides, when Damien asked me about the possibility of him giving a mating mark to another alpha, followed by requesting a scent mask, I’d guessed something had happened.”
So she was the physician Damien mentioned, the very one who made the scent mask for me ... I looked away, embarrassed and ashamed for flaunting the mating mark all these past few hours, all the way from the palace to here, without even knowing it.
Luckily, I didn’t really meet anyone on my way here; otherwise, all hell would have broken loose by now.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Alma said unceremoniously, gesturing at a chair near the operating table. “Sit, I should treat your wounds as well.”
“No need, they’ll heal soon. I wasn’t poisoned.”
“Just sit, will you?” She commanded with the kind of authority only a healer could exert.
And so I let her patch me up. Then she had to leave to make several house visits to her patients, though she left some stew in a pot for us, kept warm near the hearth.
I pulled the chair and sat next to Damien’s bed, watching him sleep, listening to his slow, rhythmic breathing. A wave of sleepiness came over me, and I rested my forehead in my arms, which were folded on the edge of Damien’s bed.
I wasn’t sure how long I had dozed off when I woke up to a hand raking through my hair. The touch was gentle, patient, and affectionate, reminding me of my mother’s touch when she wasn’t consumed by depression.
Looking up, I met Damien’s pellucid eyes, turning golden when the sunlight shone deep into his irises. He was sitting on the bed, smiling at me with a slight, wicked curl of his elegant lips, his statuesque face glowing.
“Hey.”
I was kissing him before I knew it. My hands cupped his face as I crushed our lips together.
Almost immediately, he kissed me back with the same desperation and ferocity.
Our tongues intertwined, spiced with nipping and sucking, as we devoured each other’s scent and breath like starving beggars.
I only pulled back when we were both out of breath and needed to tame the quickly building passion within our bodies.
I still rested my forehead against his. The proximity of his warmth lit up something within me, something cozy and bright.
I heard him laugh, sensing the faint vibration of his chest. “Had I known an arrow in the shoulder would get you to warm up to me, I’d have done it sooner.”
“Don’t say stupid things!” I chided him, rather embarrassed about that kiss. Why did I even do that ... I pulled back, gathering myself, and asked, “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
“I’m starving,” he said, though his gaze lingered suggestively on my chest, which was revealed by the loosely buttoned linen shirt I hadn’t bothered to change after Alma treated my wounds.
His gaze was rapt, scorching even, adding a layer of double meaning to his words, and suddenly I became self-conscious of how dishevelled I was.
I cleared my throat and stood up, trying to escape his burning gaze.
“I’ll get you some stew,” I said, about to leave, but he caught my wrist with his right hand, surprisingly tight. I didn’t dare to pull too hard, lest my strength upset his still-healing body in any way, so I was pulled back to him, almost falling over his lap.
“Damien! Stop!” I scolded again, bracing myself with my left hand. “Do you want to hurt yourself again?”
His hold on my wrist didn’t loosen, on the contrary, it tightened, pulling me even closer to him. Then he nuzzled into my neck, inhaling deeply.
“I’m alive, Fenris.” His lips moved against the skin on my neck. “Do you remember what you promised me?”
My cheeks began to burn. Yes, I remembered it very well.
I gulped, and found my voice was raspier than I anticipated. “Y... yes...”
“You said you would do anything I want,” he purred like a goddamned cat. “Anything?”
I knew I would regret this, but I breathed out an affirmation, “That was what I said.”
“What if I want to claim it now?” he whispered seductively.
“You are not even fully recovered!” I glared at him. “And this is hardly a suitable place. Alma may come back anytime!”
“Wouldn’t that add a bit more urgency and excitement?” He let go of my wrist and used a finger to trace my clavicle flirtatiously.
I slapped his hand away and said firmly, “No, you need to wait!”
“For how long?” He whined like a petulant child.
“ ... After you are recovered enough to win three matches in The Games,” I said with a defiant tilt of my chin.
He stared squarely at me for a few long seconds before he finally pulled back and said, “I’ll hold you to that.”
And the fiendish grin on his face ... Oh Great Wolf, what had I gotten myself into ...
Eventually, I managed to extricate myself from his grasp and brought him stew and water. He was indeed ravenous and finished everything within seconds. I also ate some stew myself, though a heavier thought began to creep back into my mind.
“Damien, those assassins ... did you recognize the sigil on the ring?” I asked.
He sighed, wiped his mouth, and put the empty bowl on the side table before saying, “I do. It’s the sigil of the Sacred Guards, knights who swore to protect the oracles of the Great Sanctum.”
“What?! Why would the oracles try to have us killed?” I still remembered those beautiful, mysterious virgin omegas dancing and singing before the Full Moon Hunt.
“I don’t know ...” he said quietly.