Marked by The Moon

The Space Between

Ayla’s POV

The fire crackled quietly beside us, casting long shadows across the room.

Neither of us spoke.

But something had shifted.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at me now—or the space between us, which had shrunk to almost nothing. It was the comfort. The weight of silence that didn’t need to be filled.

Still, my nerves stirred as I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself. The longer I sat this close to Damon, the harder it became to ignore how deeply I felt him—not just beside me, but inside me. The bond hummed between us like a live current, threading beneath my skin.

And I knew he felt it too.

Damon stood suddenly, not fast, but like he’d reached some kind of limit with himself. His breath was steady, but I saw the tension in his shoulders as he moved toward a cupboard near the window.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, voice low.

I blinked. “A little.”

He pulled out a small wooden tray and set it on the table—dried fruit, trail mix, crackers, and two bottles of water. “It’s not much, but I didn’t know how long you’d be out.”

My lips tugged into something close to a smile. “You were planning to keep me unconscious for a while?”

He looked back at me over his shoulder. “I was planning to keep you safe.”

He returned to the chair and placed the tray between us. I reached for a handful of dried cranberries and nibbled slowly, suddenly aware of how close he still sat.

He took a sip of water, then leaned back slightly, his posture relaxing—but not by much.

“Can I ask something?” he said after a pause.

I glanced up. “You can try.”

“Your parents… do you remember them?”

The question caught me off guard. I sat back a little, the food suddenly forgotten.

“I was told they died when I was really young,” I said. “In a rogue attack.”

His eyes darkened. “Told?”

I nodded. “I don’t remember much. Just flashes. A scent. Someone singing. My mother’s hands, I think.”

Damon’s expression stayed quiet, but something flickered behind his eyes—curiosity or concern, I wasn’t sure.

“I grew up with my uncle—Alpha Carter,” I added. “He said he kept me close because I was fragile. Said I needed protection. Structure. That I was too valuable to lose.”

Damon’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I believed him,” I whispered. “Until I realized he wasn’t keeping me safe. He was keeping me small.”

That silence again. Heavy with truth.

“I’m sorry,” Damon said.

I looked at him. “Why? You didn’t do it.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I know what it feels like to be shaped into something you’re not.”

I hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded once.

“What about your family?”

His eyes shifted to the fire. “My parents were both Alpha-blood. Old-school. Tradition, power, legacy—that’s all they cared about.”

“Do you still see them?”

“They’re gone,” he said. “Killed during a border conflict when I was nineteen. I became Alpha overnight.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

He gave a small shrug. “They raised me to be a weapon. Becoming Alpha was the only part of their plan I didn’t ruin.”

I studied his face in the firelight—so much control. So much effort just to stay still.

“I don’t think you ruined anything,” I said.

He looked over, startled by the softness in my voice.

“You built something better,” I added. “Even I can see that.”

Our eyes met and held.

That warmth surged again. Between us. Through us.

And this time, neither of us looked away.

The silence grew thick with something else. Not fear. Not confusion.

Want.

I shifted, our knees brushing. Damon tensed, his breath hitching. His wolf stirred behind his eyes for the briefest second before he wrestled it down.

“I should…” he said, voice raw. “We should get some sleep.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

He stood slowly and reached for an extra blanket from the cabinet, laying it on the cot beside mine without a word. “I’ll stay in the chair,” he said.

“I won’t bite,” I said, trying to lighten the moment, though my voice betrayed how breathless I felt.

His gaze pinned me, heat simmering just beneath the surface. “That’s the problem, I might.”

He turned away before I could reply.

I lay back on the cot, blanket pulled to my chin, heart pounding.

He sat in the chair again, arms folded, jaw tight.

And though neither of us spoke another word…

I felt him there all night.