Wolf Bound

6 - The dreams won't leave me

River

I don’t know where Damian is taking me. But I know it won’t be anywhere bad. My stomach is turning after what almost happened. I feel foolish for not standing up for myself, but I couldn’t, not against Damian’s father. He’s a Supreme Alpha, and I would stand no chance against him.

I wasn’t expecting Damian and his brother to storm into the infirmary the way they did. But I was in awe of my mate and the way he stood up for me. I’m not weak, but I’ve been through a lot. Besides, everybody needs someone in their corner.

And who better than my mate?

The man I love, and who clearly loves me?

Damian’s arms are strong and protective around me, his scent grounding—cedar, smoke, something wild. I cling to him, my body still trembling from the confrontation with his father’s doctor. The man had looked at me as if I were a specimen. A thing. Another test subject.

I couldn’t go through that again.

Not after the facility. Not after the silver needles, the restraints, the cold voices that never used my name.

Damian had seen the panic in my eyes. He hadn’t hesitated. He’d stepped between me and the doctor like a storm rising, voice low and lethal. In his eyes, I saw the threat: She’s mine. You touch her again, and I’ll bury you beneath the mountains.

I don’t believe the doctor meant to cause me harm. Nor do I think Damian’s father wanted to hurt me. They were worried about what would happen if I became Wolf Bound again, and I can’t blame them for that. They have families and a huge pack to think about. However, I wish Leander could have understood how afraid I was. I have been through enough torture to last ten lifetimes. I would have cooperated in time. Just not yet.

When Damian lifted me into his arms, I couldn’t help but fall deeper in love with him. He held me so gently, yet so firmly, making sure no one could get to me. He’s still holding me like that, even though I protested and told him that I could walk. Damian shook his head and told me that he wasn’t putting me down until we reached our destination.

The forest opens like a breath held too long. Pines tower above us, their needles whispering secrets to the wind. Moss blankets the ground in soft green, and sunlight filters through the canopy in golden shafts. Birds sing. The air smells like rain and freedom.

And then I see it.

The cabin.

It’s tucked between two ancient trees, built of dark timber and stone, with ivy curling up the sides like nature had claimed it. Smoke drifts lazily from the chimney. A porch wraps around the front, scattered with carved wooden chairs and a swing that creaks gently in the breeze.

I stare.

It’s beautiful. Not just in the way things are when they’re untouched—but in the way they feel when they’re safe. Like a place that had never known cages. Like a place where no one would ever call me Subject 9 again.

Damian set me down gently on the porch steps. But I didn’t let go of his hand.

“Jai had someone come here and light the fire for us. It’ll be warm inside.”

“Damian,” He turns to look at me. “Thank you. For what you did back there.”

He smiles at me. “You never have to thank me, River. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

I nod because I know that. He’s proved it by what he did today.

“You’re safe here,” He says, voice rough with emotion. “No one will touch you. No one will test you. Not ever again.”

I swallow hard. My throat feels raw. My body aches. But something inside me—something small and stubborn—unfolds like a flower in spring.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He looks at me then, really looks. His eyes are storm-dark, but soft. “I told you. You don’t have to thank me, River. You’re not a thing to be studied. You’re a woman. A wolf. My mate.”

The word hits me like a heartbeat.

Mate.

I’d dreamed of him for years. His voice in the dark. His arms around me. I hadn’t known his surname, but I’d known his soul. And now he’s here. Real. Solid. Fierce. And he’s all mine.

I step into the cabin.

Inside, it’s warm and quiet. A fire crackles in the hearth. Blankets are folded neatly on a couch made of worn leather. Books line the shelves—some old, some newer, all well-loved. The kitchen smells faintly of herbs and coffee as if someone had been here recently. A window looks out over the river, its surface glinting like silver.

I turn slowly, taking it all in.

This is a place built for healing. For rest. For love.

I sit on the edge of the couch, fingers curling into the blanket. Damian kneels in front of me, his hands gentle as he brushes hair from my face.

“I know you’ve been through hell,” He says. “But you’re not alone anymore, River. I’m here, and no one can hurt you.”

I close my eyes and nod.

I don’t want tests. I don’t want cages. I don’t want to be a mystery to be solved or a weapon to be wielded.

I want this.

I want him.

And for the first time in a long, long while—I believe I might deserve it.

Damian sent me off to shower. He could tell that I felt dirty after being in the hospital room, surrounded by all that equipment. Damian had brought a bag of our clothes with him. Jai had packed it for us. I found new underwear and pajamas and changed into them after my shower.

The cabin smells like pine and firewood and something faintly sweet—maybe cinnamon. Damian had lit candles, their soft glow dancing across the wooden walls like fireflies. Outside, the wind whispers through the trees, but inside, it’s quiet. Safe.

Dinner is simple: roasted vegetables, warm bread, and a stew that evokes a sense of comfort. I haven’t eaten properly in weeks, maybe longer. My hands tremble as I lift the spoon, but Damian never rushes me. He just sits across from me, watching with eyes that don’t judge. Eyes that see me.

Not the wolf. Not the subject. Me.

Afterward, he leads me to the bedroom. It’s tucked beneath the sloped roof, with a wide window that looks out over the moonlit forest. The bed is layered in thick quilts, soft pillows, and the scent of cedar. I hesitate at the threshold, my fingers brushing the doorframe.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Damian says gently. “You don’t have to—”

“No,” I whisper while shaking my head. “I want to be near you. Please, don’t leave me.”

He kisses my forehead. “I will never leave you.”

We climb into bed together, side by side. I curl beneath the blankets, my body aching but warm. Damian lies close, but not too close—his presence a shield, not a demand. I feel his hand brush mine, tentative, reverent. I pull myself into his arms, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me safe and tight.

“You’re safe now,” He murmurs.

I close my eyes.

And for a moment, I believe him.

I wish I could sleep one night without nightmares, but they plague me even now.

It starts with the sound of metal.

Clanging. Screaming. The scent of bleach and blood fills my lungs. I’m back in the facility—cold concrete beneath Saltan’s paws, silver restraints biting into my wrists. Voices echo down the corridor, clinical and cruel.

‘Subject 9 is resisting again.’

‘It’s unstable. Increase the dosage.’

Saltan tries to run, but his legs won’t move. My body is frozen, trapped in wolf form. Saltan howled, but no one heard him. No one cared. The lights flicker overhead, and the door opens.

A man steps in. Not Damian. Not anyone kind.

The doctor.

He holds a syringe filled with a glowing substance inside. ‘Let’s see what you really are,’ He says, and smiles evilly.

I scream inside Saltan’s head, my wolf howls, as the doctor forces that liquid into our veins. The pain is too much!

I jolt upright, gasping for breath. My heart thunders in my chest, and sweat clings to my skin like ice. The room is dark, but warm. The fire still crackles in the hearth. The forest still whispers outside.

Damian is already awake, his hand on my back, his voice low and steady.

“River. You’re here. You’re safe. It’s okay, baby. You’re here with me. I’m right here beside you. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. I curl into myself, shaking, the dream still clawing at my mind.

Damian pulls me into his arms.

Not roughly. Not urgently. Just enough.

I bury my face in his chest, and the scent of him—earth, smoke, home—begins to drown out the memory.

“I keep seeing it, Damian,” I whisper. “I keep feeling it.”

“I know,” He says and kisses my head. “But it’s over. You’re not there anymore. You’re here. With me.”

I cling to him like a lifeline. “I love you, Damian.”

I sense his smile against my head before he kisses me there. “I love you, too, River. Nothing is ever going to happen to you again. I promise.”

Slowly, the nightmare begins to fade. I believe Damian. I’m safe here with him, and no one can hurt me again.

There is so much I need to tell Damian about what happened at the facility. And I will, I just need a few days where I don’t have to think about all of that.

My only hope is that Damian doesn’t see me differently when he hears my truth.

I hope…