The private healing wing of the Blackwood center smelled of lunar herbs and antiseptic moonlight essence.
Bella lay on the examination bed, every bruise and scrape throbbing in protest as the senior healer worked to mend her injuries with glowing runes and tonics. Her side ached from the kicks, her palms burned, but she kept one arm subtly curled over her abdomen, shielding the secret that mattered more than any wound.
Damien paced the room like a caged alpha, his powerful frame radiating barely leashed fury. His obsidian eyes kept flicking to her, dark with something raw—possessiveness mixed with a flicker of fear he would never admit. The partial mating mark on his chest pulsed visibly beneath his torn shirt from the earlier chaos.
“You should have called me the moment trouble starte
