Chapter 17
832words
Damon's shoulder wound has been re-stitched, and he sits on the edge of a bed while I check his bandages one last time.
"You should take it easy for at least a few days," I tell him, securing the gauze. "No shifting, no training."
He gives me a wry smile. "Doctor's orders?"
"Exactly." I step back, satisfied with my work. "And don't give me that look. Your Alpha has the same instructions."
"Speaking of Ivan," Damon says, his voice lowering, "he hasn't taken his eyes off you since he came back inside."
I don't need to turn to know it's true. I've felt Ivan's gaze like a physical touch for the past hour as he coordinated the pack's response to the attack while I worked. My wolf has been unusually calm, content in the knowledge that our mate is near, watching over us.
"He was worried about you," Damon continues. "We all were. When that rogue went for you..." He shakes his head. "I've never seen Ivan move so fast."
Before I can respond, the infirmary door bursts open and Mila rushes in, her face pale with worry. Her eyes scan the room frantically until they land on Mason, who's sitting in a chair having his bandages changed.
"Mason!" she cries, running to him. "Are you okay? They said there was another attack—"
"I'm fine, love," he assures her, catching her hands in his. "Just reopened a few wounds. Nothing serious."
Mila's relief is palpable as she presses her forehead to his, their bond evident in the simple gesture. "You promised me no heroics," she scolds, though there's no heat in her words.
"Technically, I promised no unnecessary heroics," Mason counters with a small smile. "This was necessary."
She makes a sound that's half laugh, half sob. "Semantics."
"The best kind of argument," he says, kissing her knuckles.
Watching them, I feel a pang of longing so acute it takes my breath away. This is what a mate bond should be—this easy comfort, this certainty of belonging. My wolf whines softly, wanting the same connection with our own mate.
As if sensing my thoughts, Mila looks up and spots me. "Luci! Are you okay? When I heard you were here during the attack—"
"I'm fine," I assure her as she pulls me into a tight hug. "Not even a scratch."
"Thanks to Ivan," Damon adds from his bed. "And despite my best efforts to protect her."
Mila releases me to give Damon a quick hug too. "Thank you for trying," she tells him sincerely.
"Don't encourage him," I say with forced lightness. "His shoulder's a mess because of it."
"Worth it," Damon says simply, and the sincerity in his eyes makes my throat tight.
The infirmary door opens again, and Ivan enters, his presence immediately filling the room. He's changed into fresh clothes, but exhaustion lines his face, and I can see he's moving carefully to avoid pulling his stitches.
"Alpha," several wolves murmur respectfully.
Ivan acknowledges them with a nod, but his silver eyes find mine immediately. Something passes between us—a current of awareness, of connection—that makes my heart beat faster.
"How is everyone?" he asks, his deep voice steady despite his obvious fatigue.
"Stable," I answer, slipping automatically into my professional role. "No life-threatening injuries. Damon's shoulder will need time, and Mason should stay off his feet for another day, but overall, we were lucky."
"Not luck," Mason says. "Good leadership." He nods respectfully to Ivan. "You had us prepared, Alpha."
Ivan accepts the praise with a slight inclination of his head. "We'll need to increase patrols. These attacks are becoming more frequent, more coordinated."
"We'll be ready," Damon assures him.
A comfortable silence falls over the room, the kind that comes after shared danger, when the simple fact of survival creates its own kind of bond. I find myself studying Ivan—the strong line of his jaw, the alert watchfulness in his silver eyes, the way his warriors look to him with absolute trust.
My wolf stirs restlessly. Tell him, she urges. Now.
As if sensing my internal struggle, Mila clears her throat. "Well," she says, with a meaningful glance between Ivan and me, "I think you two probably need some time to talk."
Damon catches on immediately. "Right. I should, uh, check on the perimeter guards."
"You should rest," I counter automatically.
He grins. "I'll rest while checking on them."
Mason struggles to his feet, waving away my protest. "And I need food. Nearly dying always makes me hungry."
"Mason!" Mila scolds, but she's already helping him toward the door.
Within moments, the infirmary has cleared, wolves finding sudden urgent reasons to be elsewhere, leaving Ivan and me alone among the empty beds.
