His Reluctant Luna

Chapter 15: Severing the Thread

The moonlight pooled in my palms, warm and alive.

Selene sat before me, her arm extended, the black mark pulsing like a second heartbeat. Her face was pale, but she didn't look away.

"I'm going to start now," I said.

"Do what you have to do."

I closed my eyes and reached into the mark with my awareness — the way Elena had taught me, like extending a hand into dark water.

The moment I touched it, I felt them.

Presences. Ancient. Cold. Watching from somewhere far away, through the link that bound Selene to them.

Who dares?

The voice was not a voice — it was a pressure, a weight, a thousand years of ice pressing against my mind.

I pushed back.

The Moon-touched, I thought. And you have no claim on my family.

The mark flared. Selene gasped.

I pulled.

The thread that bound her to the dark presences was physical in my mind — a black cord, thick as a finger, pulsing with malice. I wrapped my moonlight around it and pulled harder.

The presences fought back. The cord tightened. Selene cried out.

Let go, Moon-touched. She is ours.

She's my sister.

Blood means nothing to us.

Then you don't understand blood at all.

I poured everything into the cut. The moonlight blazing. The bond with Elena burning. The memory of every moment that had brought me here — the cold floor of my father's study, the golden eyes of a wolf king, my mother's voice in the mirror.

The cord snapped.

The presences screamed — a sound that echoed through the courtyard, through the keep, through the forest beyond. The mark on Selene's arm flared once, twice, then faded to gray, then silver, then nothing.

I collapsed.

Selene caught me.

"I'm OK," I gasped.

"You're an idiot."

"I know."

For the first time in our lives, my sister held me. And she didn't let go.

I woke in my bed to find Damon sitting beside me.

"You have a habit of ending up unconscious," he said.

"It's a talent."

His mouth twitched. "Elena says you broke the binding. Completely."

"Selene's free?"

"She's free. She's also sleeping in the next room. Your mother insisted on staying with her."

I tried to sit up. Damon's hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"Rest."

"I've rested enough."

"You've been unconscious for six hours."

I blinked. "Six?"

"Elena said the ritual took more out of you than she expected. The marks weren't made by wolves. They were made by something older. Something that recognized your power."

"Should I be worried?"

"Yes." His eyes met mine. "But not today. Today, you rest."

I wanted to argue. But my body had other plans.

As I drifted off, I felt his hand still on my shoulder — warm, solid, there.

I didn't pull away.

Neither did he.