His mate his obsession

Damon’s POV The fire came first. It tore across my back like claws made of sunlight, searing through skin and bone. I fell to my knees, my palms pressed against the cold marble floor, the sound of my own breathing harsh in my ears. The air reeked of smoke and excruciating pain. My wolf howled inside me, fighting the invisible chains that bound us both. The curse never came quietly, it demanded to be felt, to be obeyed. Forty. That was the age stamped on my death sentence. If I didn’t find my fated mate before then, the curse would finish what it started, burning me alive from the inside until nothing remained but ash and memory. The chandelier above me trembled. My breath hitched, sweat mixing with the blood sliding down my neck. Every breath was a fight. Every heartbeat felt like it would be the last. “Alpha,” Ryder’s voice came from the doorway, low and cautious. “The new she-wolves have arrived.” Of course they had. Every month, Grandmother Luella found another batch of potential Lunas. Every month, I let them try. And every month, I was reminded that my curse had no interest in pretenders. “I’ll be there,” I rasped. The words tasted like blood. When the burning finally eased, I rose, muscles trembling. The room was a mess; splinters on the floor, the faint scent of singed fabric in the air. I fixed my cuffs, wiped the blood from my mouth, and forced my mask back on. The Alpha doesn’t falter. He commands. No one could see the Alpha bleed. Downstairs, the mansion hummed with noise; voices, footsteps, perfume thick in the air. The she-wolves were waiting. My grandmother’s voice floated from the drawing room, calm and commanding as ever. “They’re ready, Damon. Five of them. Each blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. One of them must bear the Luna mark.” I stepped into the light. Luella Blackwood, my grandmother, the Luna who once led this pack before me, looked radiant as always, silver hair tied neatly, the crescent scar on her wrist glowing faintly beneath her sleeve. She smiled when she saw me, though her eyes said what her lips didn’t: You’re dying, and you know it. “Then let’s get this over with,” I said, buttoning my jacket. The room fell silent as I entered. Five women stood in a half-circle, each lowering her head in respect. They were beautiful in their own ways. One soft and shy, one bold and sharp-eyed, one already trying to meet my gaze as if she could command me. But beauty had never healed me before. Every unmated she-wolf bore a faint, silvery moon mark on her wrist; a gift from the Goddess herself. It stayed cold until fate called it awake. When the true Alpha touched it, the mark was said to burn and glow, binding the two souls forever. But for years, every mark I touched had remained still. Dead. “Ladies,” Luella said smoothly, “our Alpha will speak with each of you privately. Remember…the one whose mark answers his touch will carry the Moon’s favor.” They took turns approaching me. The first brushed her fingers against my arm, her scent sweet and cloying. Nothing. The second whispered a prayer. My back burned harder. The third tried to look brave but trembled when my eyes met hers. The fourth smiled too wide. And the fifth, she dared to lift her wrist to me. The crescent moon etched there stayed dim. Cold. When my fingers brushed it, the curse flared so violently that she gasped and stumbled backward, tears burning her eyes. Her touch hadn’t soothed me. It had made it worse. I clenched my jaw, every muscle tight with fury and exhaustion. My grandmother’s lips pressed into a thin line. Hours passed, and the pain only deepened. None of them eased it. None even came close. When the last one left, I stayed standing in the center of the room, staring at the dying fire in the hearth. My reflection shimmered faintly in the window; a man carved from shadow and ash. Not the Alpha everyone feared, but the cursed one everyone whispered about. Luella’s voice broke the silence. “Damon,” she said softly, “none of these women’s marks burn for you.” I laughed…low, bitter, sharp. “I noticed.” She stepped closer, her hand hovering near my arm. “The curse is growing stronger. It’s not just pain anymore…it’s your life. If you don’t find your Luna soon, the bloodline ends with you.” Her words settled like ash in my lungs. “Then maybe it should.” “Don’t say that,” she warned. I turned to face her fully. “Find me my fated mate, Grandmother… or find me a grave to bury me when I die.” She flinched, just barely, and in that moment, I hated how much she still cared. I walked past her before I could change my mind. “Tell those women to leave. All of them. I want every scent out of this house by morning.” “Damon…” “Do it.” The doors slammed behind me. I didn’t look back. Outside, the night air was cold enough to bite. I loosened my collar and climbed into the car, the city lights of New York flickering in the distance. My driver offered a nervous glance, but I waved him off. I needed to be alone. The engine roared to life, and I drove. The streets blurred past, neon signs, glass towers, the ghost of my reflection in the windshield. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to just… stop. To let go. To give the curse what it wanted. My phone buzzed beside me. Luella: Where are you, Damon? For a second, I almost ignored it. I gripped the wheel tighter, staring at the road that stretched endlessly ahead. Every mile felt like another reminder that I was running from a fate carved into my skin. The curse wasn’t killing me, it was waiting, patient and cruel, for permission. Her message glowed faintly against the darkness. I exhaled, thumb brushing the screen. My eyes flicked down for a second…just one second… Then light exploded across my vision. Metal screamed. The world spun. A tree. Impact. Silence. Then, it went dark…