I stood rooted to the spot long after Damon had vanished into the trees, the cold night wind wrapping around me like a shroud, carrying the faint, familiar scent of him—woodsmoke, rain, and wild, untamed power. His words echoed endlessly in my mind, raw and tortured: I hate you… You make me weak… I will fight this with every breath I have. Every sentence was sharp, filled with rage and rejection… yet beneath it all, I heard the truth he tried so hard to hide. He wasn’t fighting me. He wasn’t fighting the bond. He was fighting himself. Fighting the feelings that bloomed against his will, fighting the pull that drew him to me no matter how hard he tried to run.
Slowly, I turned and walked back to the manor, my bare feet brushing against the cool grass, my mind heavy and confused. Three days
