Chapter 7: The Wolf Within
1783 Words
The battle was chaos.
Elara had never seen anything like it. Wolves shifted and fought, teeth and claws and fur flying everywhere. The rogues were big—bigger than normal wolves, with matted black fur and red eyes that glowed with dark magic. They were fast and strong and fearless, and they didn't feel pain.
But Kairos's warriors were better.
And Kairos himself was a force of nature.
He shifted into his wolf form—a massive black beast, bigger than any wolf Elara had ever seen, with golden eyes that glowed like fire. He tore through the rogues like they were nothing, his jaws crushing bones, his claws rending flesh.
He was beautiful. And terrifying. And perfect.
Elara stayed at the back, healing the wounded as they fell. One after another, she pulled them back from the brink of death. Her power flowed through her, strong and steady, fueled by adrenaline and fear and the strange connection she felt to Kairos.
But then she saw it.
A rogue—bigger than the others, darker, meaner—sneaking up behind Kairos. He was distracted, fighting three other rogues at once. He didn't see it coming.
Elara didn't think.
She ran.
She shifted mid-stride, her silver wolf bursting forth—lean and fast and beautiful, with fur the color of moonlight and eyes like liquid silver. She was smaller than the other wolves, but she was faster.
She hit the rogue from the side, knocking it away from Kairos. It yelped and turned on her, its red eyes blazing with rage.
Elara's wolf snarled, baring her teeth. She was scared. So scared. But she didn't back down.
The rogue lunged.
Elara dodged. She was fast—faster than the rogue, faster than any normal wolf. She darted in, bit down on the rogue's leg, and darted back out before it could grab her.
The rogue howled in pain and anger. It lunged again, and this time, it was faster. Its claws raked across Elara's shoulder, and she yelped, pain shooting through her.
She fell. The rogue loomed over her, jaws open, ready to kill—
And then Kairos was there.
He hit the rogue like a freight train, tearing it apart with his teeth and his claws, his golden eyes wild with rage. It was over in seconds.
But he didn't stop.
He kept going, tearing at the body, snarling and growling like he'd lost his mind. His eyes were turning red, just like the rogues'. The curse.
Elara shifted back into human form, her shoulder throbbing, her clothes torn. She stepped toward him, slow and careful.
"Kairos," she said, her voice soft. "It's me. It's Elara."
He turned toward her, his eyes wild and red and feral. He snarled, his lips pulled back from his teeth. He didn't recognize her.
But Elara didn't run.
She stepped closer.
"It's okay," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe."
He growled, but he didn't attack. He tilted his head, like he was trying to place her, like he could smell something familiar.
Elara kept talking, soft and gentle, like she was calming a scared animal. "You know me. I'm the healer. I saved your life. Remember?"
She took another step. And another. Until she was right in front of him. Until she could reach out and touch him.
She pressed her hand to his chest.
Her power flowed into him—warm, silver, healing. But it wasn't just healing his body. It was calming the curse, soothing the feral beast inside him, bringing him back.
Slowly, his eyes changed. From red to amber to gold. His growling stopped. His body relaxed.
And then he shifted back into human form.
He was naked. And bleeding. And breathing hard. But his eyes were his again—golden, human, sane.
He stared at her, wide-eyed, like he couldn't believe what had just happened.
"You..." he whispered. "You calmed me. No one has ever been able to do that. Not in three hundred years."
Elara smiled, weak. "Told you I was useful."
And then her legs gave out.
Kairos caught her, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close. "Elara? Hey, stay with me. What's wrong?"
"Just... tired. And my shoulder hurts." She rested her head on his chest, her eyes closing. "Did we win?"
Kairos laughed, and it was shaky, relieved. "Yeah, baby. We won."
Baby.
Elara's heart did that stupid skipping thing again. But she was too tired to care.
"Good," she mumbled. "Now can we go home? I want a bath. And coffee. And maybe a nap. A really long nap."
Kairos kissed the top of her head. "Whatever you want."
He picked her up—careful of her shoulder—and carried her back toward the village. The warriors stared, wide-eyed, as they passed. They'd seen everything. They'd seen her fight. They'd seen her heal the king's curse.
They knew.
Word would spread. Fast.
The Blessed Healer was real.
And she was here.
Elara didn't know it yet, but her life was about to change forever.
No more hiding. No more running. No more quiet human life.
She was destined for bigger things.
Greater things.
She was going to be a queen.
But for now, she was just tired. And hurt. And safe in the king's arms.
And that was enough.
For now.
* * *
They flew back to Vossgaard a few hours later.
Elara slept most of the way, curled up in Kairos's arms, her head on his chest. She was exhausted. Her shoulder throbbed. Her whole body ached.
But she felt... alive.
More alive than she'd felt in years.
When they landed at the palace, Kairos carried her inside. He took her straight to her suite, not caring who saw them. Not caring what anyone thought.
He laid her on the bed and called for the healers. But Elara shook her head.
"No," she said. "I don't need other healers. I can do it myself."
"Elara—"
"Please. I'm fine. Just... stay with me?"
Kairos hesitated. Then he sat down on the bed next to her. "Okay. I'll stay."
Elara closed her eyes and focused on her shoulder. She sent her power there, healing the gash, stitching the skin back together. It took longer than usual—she was tired, her power was low—but it worked.
When she opened her eyes, Kairos was watching her, his golden eyes dark with... something. Admiration? Awe? Something else?
"You're incredible," he said, quiet.
Elara smiled, weak. "I know."
He laughed. It was a soft laugh, warm and genuine.
They sat there for a long moment, just looking at each other. The air between them was thick with tension, with want, with something that felt a lot like fate.
Kairos leaned in. Elara's heart raced. She wanted this. She wanted him. More than she'd ever wanted anything.
But then he stopped. Just inches from her lips.
"I can't," he said, his voice rough. "It's too dangerous. The curse—"
"Hasn't hurt me yet."
"Yet." He pulled away, his jaw tight. "I won't risk it. I won't kill you like I killed the others."
Elara's heart ached.
She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him he was wrong. She wanted to kiss him anyway.
But she didn't.
She could see the pain in his eyes. The fear. The guilt.
He'd been through this before. Three times. And it had ended badly every time.
She couldn't blame him for being scared.
"Okay," she said, soft. "Okay. We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."
Kairos looked at her, his eyes wide, like he couldn't believe what she was saying.
"Really?"
"Really." She smiled, small. "I'm not going anywhere, Kairos. Not unless you want me to."
He stared at her for a long moment. And then he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His touch was light, gentle, like he was afraid she'd break.
"I don't want you to go," he said, quiet. "Ever."
Elara's heart skipped a beat.
"Then I won't," she said.
And for a second, everything felt perfect.
But it couldn't last.
It never did.
A knock on the door pulled them out of the moment.
"Come in," Kairos called, his voice back to its usual kingly sharpness.
It was Rook. He looked serious. Worried.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing his head. "We have a problem."
"What is it?"
"Damien Hale. He's back. And he's not alone. He brought the entire Silver Moon Pack with him. They're at the gates, demanding to see Elara."
Elara's stomach dropped.
Damien.
Again.
And he'd brought the whole pack?
What was he thinking?
"Tell them to go away," Kairos said, his voice cold.
"I tried. But Damien says... he says Elara is his betrothed. That she belongs to him. And he's not leaving without her."
Kairos's jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists.
"Does he, now?" he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Elara could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. Possessive. Protective.
And just a little bit hot.
No. Bad Elara. Not the time.
"Wait," she said, sitting up. "Let me talk to him."
"Absolutely not." Kairos shook his head. "He's dangerous. He's angry. He could hurt you."
"Damien would never hurt me."
"You don't know that. He's an alpha. He's been rejected. He's humiliated. People do stupid things when they're humiliated."
"Kairos—"
"No." His voice was final. "I'm not letting you anywhere near him. Not alone."
Elara sighed. "Fine. Then you come with me. But I'm talking to him. I need to make him understand that I'm not going back. That I'm never going back."
Kairos hesitated. Then he nodded.
"Fine," he said. "But you stay behind me. And if anything goes wrong, you run. Straight back to the palace. No arguments."
"Deal."
Elara stood up. She was still tired. Her shoulder still ached. But she was ready.
She was going to end this. Once and for all.
Damien needed to hear it from her. He needed to understand that it was over. That she was never coming back.
That she belonged here.
With Kairos.
Even if he was too scared to admit it.
Even if the curse might kill her.
Even if everything was complicated and messy and dangerous.
She belonged here.
And she was going to make sure Damien knew it.
She just had no idea how messy this was about to get.
No idea that Damien wasn't just here for her.
No idea that he was working with someone else.
Someone dangerous.
Someone who wanted the king dead.
And the Blessed Healer too.
- Writer
