Chapter 8
949words
I lift my chin defiantly. "I didn't run. I had a patient who needed care."
"And now you have Damon." There's no accusation in his tone, just a statement of fact.
"Yes," I say firmly. "I do."
Ivan studies me for a long moment, his silver eyes seeming to see straight through my defenses. "He doesn't know, does he? About us."
"There is no us," I insist, though my racing heart betrays me. "I don't believe in mate theory."
Without warning, Ivan reaches across the blanket, his fingers brushing against mine. The contact sends a jolt of awareness through me so powerful that I gasp. My wolf surges forward, desperate for more.
I try to pull away, but my body refuses to cooperate. "Don't," I whisper.
"Your wolf knows the truth," he says quietly. "Even if you deny it."
"Please," I say, finally managing to withdraw my hand, though every cell in my body protests the loss of contact. "I've made my choice."
Ivan leans back slightly, his expression softening. "Is it really a choice when you're running from something you don't understand?"
"I understand perfectly well," I snap, anger giving me strength. "I just don't want it."
"Why?" The simple question catches me off guard. "What are you afraid of, Lucille?"
The gentleness in his voice breaks something inside me. To my horror, tears begin to well in my eyes.
"You don't understand," I whisper, looking away as the first tear falls. "I can't do this. I can't be with you. I can't be with anyone."
Ivan moves closer, his presence both comforting and overwhelming. "Tell me why," he says softly. "Help me understand."
I shake my head, more tears falling now. "It doesn't matter. Either way, someone gets hurt. That's all I ever do—hurt people."
"That's not true," Ivan says, his hand hovering near mine as if he wants to touch me but is restraining himself. "You saved Ellie's life. You care for animals. You're not someone who hurts others."
A bitter laugh escapes me. "You don't know me."
"I know enough," he says with quiet certainty. "I know you're my mate. I know you feel it too, no matter how much you deny it."
My wolf whines in agreement, while my human side rebels against his claim.
"Listen to me," Ivan continues, his voice low and intense. "Damon doesn't know you're my mate. If he did, loyal as he is, he would never have pursued you."
My heart sinks. Of course Damon wouldn't. His loyalty to his Alpha would come first.
"I regret not finding you before Damon did," Ivan continues. "Damon is a good man, one of my best. But you are mine, Lucille."
I look up at him through my tears. "And what if I don't want to be yours? What if I can't be?"
Something flickers in his silver eyes—pain, perhaps, or confusion. "Why are you so afraid of this connection? What aren't you telling me?"
For a moment, I consider telling him everything—about the curse, about my family's history, about the death sentence that comes with accepting him as my mate. But I can't. The curse is my burden to bear alone.
"It doesn't matter," I say instead, wiping away my tears. "I'm with Damon now."
Ivan's eyes darken. "You need to end things with him," he says, not unkindly. "The longer this continues, the more he'll be hurt when the truth comes out. And it will come out—these things always do."
"You can't order me to leave him," I say, though my voice lacks conviction.
"I'm not ordering you," Ivan says, surprising me. "I'm asking you to consider what's best for everyone involved, including Damon."
I look away, unable to hold his gaze. "I need time."
"I understand," he says, and I believe he does. "This isn't easy for any of us."
When I finally look back at him, his expression has softened further, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the Alpha. He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and gently wipes a tear from my cheek.
"Whatever you're afraid of," he says quietly, "whatever you're running from—you don't have to face it alone."
My wolf leans into his touch, craving more, while my human side trembles with fear—not of him, but of what accepting him would mean.
"I should take you home," he says after a moment. "You're upset."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
As Ivan helps me gather the picnic things, his movements are careful, as if he's afraid I might shatter. Perhaps I will.
"Please," I say as we walk toward his car, "don't tell Damon about... this. About us."
Ivan studies me for a long moment before nodding. "I won't. That's for you to do, when you're ready."
The drive to my cottage is silent, my wolf alternating between contentment at being near our mate and distress at my continued resistance.
When Ivan pulls up to my home, he turns to me. "Think about what I said, Lucille. For everyone's sake."
I nod, my hand on the door handle.
"And Lucille?" His voice stops me. "If you need anything—anything at all—you can come to me. Regardless of your decision."
As I watch him drive away, my emotions are a tangled mess of fear, attraction, and confusion. My wolf has never been more certain, while my human side has never been more afraid.
The curse looms over me like a shadow, reminding me that accepting Ivan means accepting death. But for the first time, I wonder if denying him might be its own kind of death—slower, but just as certain.
