His mate his obsession

chapter 3 Mate!

Maya’s POV

I spun around, breath still ragged from the smoke.

An older woman was rushing toward me, her silver hair gleaming under the hospital lights.

Beside her, a man that looked like he was early thirties, averagely tall, sharp, dressed in a dark suit, moved with the kind of urgency that made everyone step aside.

The woman’s voice trembled, but not from fear. “Where is he? Where’s Damon?” she demanded.

I blinked, thrown. “II think they took him inside. He…he was in a car crash, I just…”

Before I could finish, the man turned his phone toward me. “We saw it on the news.”

“The news?” My stomach dropped.

He pressed play.

On the tiny screen, there I was, covered in soot, coughing, dragging an unconscious man out of a burning car while people shouted from a distance.

The video was shaky, someone’s phone recording, but it was me.

My heart raced as I watched myself collapse beside him, smoke swirling around like a curse.

“I…” My throat tightened. “Someone filmed that?”

The man gave a short nod. “It’s everywhere already.”

Everywhere. The word echoed.

I felt exposed, like the whole city was watching me breathe.

The older woman’s gaze softened just a little as she stepped closer. “You saved him,” she said quietly. “Thank you.” She continued, her eyes already watery.

“I just… I couldn’t walk away.” My voice came out small, trembling. “Is he…Is he going to be okay?”

The woman didn’t answer right away. Instead, she placed a hand over her heart, eyes glistening with something I couldn’t name. “You have no idea what you’ve done, child.”

Before I could ask what she meant, the double doors swung open.

A doctor appeared, his scrubs streaked with blood. “You’re his family?” he asked.

“Yes,” the woman said quickly. “I’m his grandmother.”

His grandmother.

That meant… the man I’d pulled from the fire…he was her grandson.

“You can come in now,” the doctor said. “He’s stable, but barely. You’re lucky whoever found him acted fast.”

My heart stuttered.

Lucky.

That word shouldn’t have made me shake, but it did.

“Let’s follow him, grandmother Luella.” The man standing tall beside her said.

We followed the doctor down the hall, the smell of antiseptic burning my nose.

My shoes squeaked softly against the floor, and I tried to calm the pounding in my chest.

The man in the suit, Ryder, I heard someone call him, walked ahead of us, shoulders tense, phone still in hand.

The room was dim when we entered.

Machines beeped softly beside the bed.

And there he was.

The man from the fire.

His face was pale beneath the bruises, jawline sharp, lips parted slightly as he breathed.

The faint glow from the monitor reflected off the golden chain around his wrist.

His hair was dark, damp, pushed back from his forehead.

He looked impossibly still. And somehow, even broken, he looked… powerful.

Something inside me stirred again.

The same pull I’d felt in the fire.

The same strange, unexplainable calm that had washed over me when he touched me.

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” the doctor said softly. “But he’s fighting.”

The older woman, his grandmother, moved closer, brushing a hand over his hair. “Damon,” she whispered, voice trembling. “My boy.”

Damon.

His name felt heavy, like it carried stories I wasn’t meant to know.

I stood awkwardly near the door, unsure if I should stay or slip away quietly. This wasn’t my place. I was a stranger. A waitress who had no business standing in a hospital room with people who clearly didn’t live in my world.

But before I could turn, his fingers twitched.

Luella, his grandmother, froze.

Then, slowly, Damon’s eyelids fluttered.

I stopped breathing.

His eyes opened, stormy gray and unfocused at first, then clear.

He blinked once, twice, scanning the room. His gaze landed on Luella, then slid, hesitant, searching…until it found me.

The moment our eyes met, something cracked open in my chest.

The monitor beside him steadied.

The air felt different.

Somehow lighter, alive.

He frowned faintly, confused, then winced. “The pain…” His voice was rough, strained. “It stopped.”

Luella looked startled. “What did you say?”

He didn’t answer her. His gaze stayed locked on mine.

Then, with visible effort, he lifted a trembling hand. “Come here.”

I hesitated. “Me?”

“Yes.” His tone was quiet but commanding, like something inside him already knew.

My throat tightened.

I didn’t know what to say.

I hadn’t done anything.

My hands trembled. The room felt too small, too bright, too wrong, like the world had shifted and I was the only one who didn’t understand why.

I took a step closer, then another.

When I reached the bedside, I could see the faint shimmer of sweat on his neck, the curve of his jaw, the shadow of exhaustion in his eyes.

He was hurting, well, had been hurting for a long time, and yet now… he looked calm.

He reached for my wrist.

The moment his skin touched mine, a shock ran through me, warm, electric, alive.

I gasped, my knees almost giving out.

The crescent-shaped scar on my wrist pulsed faintly again.

I looked down in horror. A faint silvery mark I’d seen before in the taxi glowed through my skin, a perfect crescent, shimmering brighter and brighter.

“What…” I breathed, trembling. “Why is it glowing? Why does it keep doing that?”

Ryder cut through, “It has glowed before?”

I looked at him and stared back at my wrist, “Yes…when I was in a taxi bringing him here.”

Luella’s lips parted, eyes wide, a mix of shock and awe washing over her face. “It can’t be…”

Damon’s grip tightened slightly. His breathing steadied completely now, every sign of pain vanishing as he exhaled a long, shaking breath.

“The curse,” he whispered. “It eased.”

I just stared at him, heart pounding so hard it hurt. “What curse?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed fixed on our joined hands, where both marks glowed like twin flames. Then, slowly, his eyes lifted to meet mine.

His expression softened; relief, disbelief, something deeper.

When he spoke, it was barely a whisper, but it carried through the room like a vow.

“You’re my mate.”