Chapter 15 Damon
FIFTEEN
DAMON
The wind beneath Damon’s obsidian wings carried the metallic scent of blood and the salt spray of the ocean as he powered through the sky toward Everflame Isle.
Every powerful stroke of his wings sent tremors through his massive dragon form, but he maintained perfect control despite the chaos raging in his mind.
Evelina’s weight pressed against his back, her breathing shallow and labored, while Isla’s small hand pressed firmly against his aunt’s wound.
She’s losing too much blood.
The thought hammered through his consciousness like a war drum, threatening to shatter the iron control he’d maintained for a century.
But beneath that immediate concern lurked something far more disturbing—the memory of that moment when Isla’s terror had exploded through their mate bond like white-hot lightning.
He’d been pacing his beach house, trying to convince himself that giving her space was the right choice, when suddenly her panic had slammed into his chest with enough force to drive him to his knees.
The mate bond had roared with primal intensity, every instinct in his body screaming that Isla was in mortal danger.
He’d run out of his house and shifted without conscious thought, launching himself into the sky and following that invisible thread that connected them across miles of ocean.
Finding her at Crimson Ridge with Evelina locked in brutal combat against Kalis and Sylara had nearly triggered his dragon’s berserker rage. Only the knowledge that Isla was watching—his mate witnessing what he truly was—had kept him from tearing his enemies apart piece by piece.
Focus on the present, he commanded himself as Everflame Isle’s familiar volcanic peaks rose from the horizon. Evelina’s health first. Everything else can wait.
But even as he thought it, his dragon snarled with territorial fury. He’d injured Kalis and Sylara, yes—but that meant he’d just declared war on Veyrik, one of his most dangerous rivals. The ramifications would be immense.
His powerful wings caught an updraft as he descended toward Evelina’s estate, the sprawling stone mansion that had stood for centuries coming into view. He landed with surprising gentleness on the circular drive.
Isla helped Evelina slide from his back, the older woman’s face pale as parchment and her breathing increasingly labored.
The moment his aunt’s feet touched solid ground, Damon shifted, his dragon form dissolving in a shimmer of heat and shadow until he stood in human form, naked and radiating barely contained power.
Without hesitation, he swept Evelina into his arms, cradling her against his chest like she weighed nothing. Blood seeped through the makeshift bandage Isla had fashioned, staining his skin crimson.
“Go inside,” he commanded, his deep voice cutting through Isla’s shocked silence. “Alert the healers—west wing, third floor. Now.”
Isla sprinted toward the estate’s massive front doors, her flowing skirt billowing behind her as she disappeared inside. Damon followed close behind, his bare feet silent on the marble floors as he navigated the familiar corridors.
“Hold on,” he murmured to Evelina, his voice gentler than it had been in decades. “You’re not leaving me. Not after everything we’ve survived.”
She’s been more than an aunt. She’s been the only mother I’ve had for a century. I can’t lose her too.
Evelina’s green eyes fluttered open, focusing on his face with effort. “Damon... I’m sorry...”
“Save your strength,” he said firmly, pushing through the doors to her private chambers.
The healers were already rushing in—three elderly dragon shifters whose combined knowledge spanned millennia. Isla appeared behind them, her hazel eyes wide with concern and something that looked dangerously like fear for him.
Damon laid Evelina gently on her four-poster bed, then stepped back to give the healers room to work.
He went to grab a bathrobe to wrap around himself as their hands moved with practiced efficiency, their ancient words of power flowing from their lips as they stemmed the bleeding and began the delicate process of healing.
Minutes stretched like hours. Damon found himself standing rigid as stone, every muscle coiled with tension as he watched the woman who’d raised him being treated with such care. Isla moved to stand beside him, her warmth a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping his chest.
Finally, the lead healer—an ancient dragon named Theron—looked up with relief evident in his weathered features. “She’s stable. The wound was deep but not fatal. With proper rest and healing magic, she should recover fully within a week.”
Damon’s knees nearly buckled with relief. He moved to Evelina’s bedside, taking her hand in his much larger one. Her fingers were cold but steady.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I may not have made it if—”
“You would have,” he interrupted, though they both knew it was a lie. “You’re tougher than half my warriors.”
Isla stepped forward, her expression soft with gratitude as she met his gaze. “Thank you for protecting us. I didn’t know what to do back there. I don’t think we would have survived if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”
Damon’s green eyes held hers, and for a moment, the careful walls he’d built crumbled. “I will always protect you. Both of you. Everyone in my clan. Always.”
But then reality crashed back in.
“What were you doing in Crimson Ridge territory in the first place?”
Evelina’s eyes filled with guilt. “I’ve been shopping there for years—their marketplace has better supplies than anywhere else.
But I always got permission from Veyrik first.” She paused, wincing as she shifted position.
“This time I forgot. I was so excited about showing Isla around that I didn’t follow protocol. ”
“And that drew attention.”
“Kalis and Sylara approached us aggressively. They were demanding to know more about Isla.” Evelina’s voice carried a note of warning that made Damon’s blood run cold. “They sensed her importance.”
Shit.
“Did you tell them—”
“That she’s your fated mate? Of course not.” Evelina’s tone carried a hint of her usual sharpness. “But they knew she was significant. That’s when Sylara shifted and went after Isla. I had no choice but to protect her.”
Damon’s hands clenched into fists. This was worse than he’d thought. Veyrik now knew that Damon had a mate—a human mate who could be used as leverage. And by attacking his enforcers, Damon had given his rival both motivation and justification for retaliation.
“I’ll need to stay here,” he said finally. “To oversee Evelina’s recovery and ensure your safety.”
He felt Isla’s surprise and irritation ripple through the mate bond before she quickly masked it. She’d asked for space that very afternoon, and now he was moving into the same house.
“I understand the situation,” Isla said carefully, though he could sense her frustration beneath the diplomatic words. “And the need for you to stay close.”
“I’ll also help with the bookstore while Evelina recovers,” he added, knowing it was the right thing to do. “And you can never go to Crimson Ridge again,” he told Evelina, his voice carrying absolute authority.
“I know. I’m sorry I caused problems.”
“This isn’t your fault.” Damon’s jaw tightened as pieces of a larger puzzle began falling into place. “Veyrik has been playing territorial games for years, testing boundaries while I’ve been... absent. But this attack today just gave him motivation to escalate.”