Chapter 18
1501words
"About as subtle as a brick through a window," I agree, nervously wiping my hands on my jeans.
Ivan moves closer, stopping a respectful distance away. "How are you really?" he asks, his voice softening. "That was... intense."
"I'm okay," I say, then amend, "Physically, at least."
"And mentally?"
I take a deep breath. "Processing. It happened so fast."
"You were brave," he says. "That wolf would have had Damon if you hadn't intervened."
"I was terrified," I admit. "I just... reacted."
"That's often when our true nature shows itself." Ivan takes another step closer. "Your instinct was to protect, even at risk to yourself."
The pride in his voice makes me flush. "Anyone would have done the same."
"No," he says simply. "They wouldn't."
We fall silent again, the air between us charged with unspoken words. Ivan is the first to break it.
"Lucille," he begins, then stops, seeming to search for the right words. "When I saw that wolf going for you... I've never felt fear like that. Not for myself, not even for my pack."
The raw honesty in his voice makes my heart ache. "Ivan—"
"Let me finish," he says gently. "I need to say this. I've respected your distance. I've tried to give you the space you asked for. But today made something very clear to me." He takes a deep breath. "I can't pretend anymore. I can't act like this bond between us doesn't exist, or that it's something I can ignore."
My wolf surges forward at his words, eager and hopeful. "I know," I whisper.
"Whatever is holding you back," he continues, "whatever you're afraid of—I want to help. But I can't do that if you won't let me in."
This is it. The moment of truth. My heart pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it.
"Can we sit?" I ask, suddenly unsure my legs will support me.
Ivan nods, gesturing to a small office off the main infirmary. Inside, there's a desk and two chairs, and a window overlooking the forest beyond the Blackwater grounds. It's private, quiet—the perfect place for confessions.
We sit across from each other, and I stare at my hands, trying to find the right words to begin.
"Take your time," Ivan says softly.
I look up, meeting his silver gaze. "What do you know about curses?" I ask.
Surprise flickers across his face. "Curses? As in magic?"
"As in something passed down through bloodlines," I clarify. "Something that affects generation after generation."
Ivan leans forward slightly, his expression serious. "I know they exist, though they're rare. My grandfather spoke of them sometimes—old magic, from before our kind learned to live alongside humans."
I nod, encouraged that he's not dismissing the idea outright. "My family—the Blackwood women—we carry a curse." The words feel strange on my tongue after so many years of silence. "For five generations, at least."
"What kind of curse?" Ivan asks, his voice carefully neutral.
I take a deep breath. "When a Blackwood woman finds her mate, she's given ten years. Ten years of happiness, of normal life. And then she dies—suddenly, without warning. And her mate..." I swallow hard. "Her mate follows soon after, unable to live without her."
Understanding dawns in Ivan's eyes. "Your parents."
"My mother collapsed at thirty-two," I confirm. "Heart failure, the doctors said, though she had no history of problems. My father stopped eating, stopped sleeping. Six weeks later, he was gone too."
"And this has happened to others in your family?"
"My grandmother's mate. My aunt and her husband. Every mated pair in my bloodline for five generations." My voice breaks. "It never fails."
Ivan is silent for a long moment, processing. "And this is why you've been pushing me away," he says finally. "Why you refused the mate bond."
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
"You were trying to protect me," he says softly, realization coloring his voice. "By denying what's between us, you thought you were saving my life."
"I was," I insist, tears welling in my eyes. "I am. If we accept this bond, if we become true mates, the curse will take me in ten years. And then you'll follow, just like all the others."
Ivan stands abruptly, pacing the small office. His face is a mask of concentration, brows drawn together in thought.
"Have you tried to break it?" he asks. "This curse?"
"My grandmother has spent decades searching for a way," I say. "Old texts, other packs with knowledge of such things, even human witches. Nothing."
"There's always a way," Ivan says with such certainty that I almost believe him. "Every curse has a counter, a condition, a loophole."
"And if there isn't?" I challenge. "If this is just how it is for me—for us?"
Ivan stops pacing and kneels before me, taking my hands in his. The contact sends warmth spreading up my arms, my wolf sighing with contentment.
"Then we have ten years," he says simply. "Ten years of happiness, of being together, of living fully."
I stare at him, shocked. "Did you not hear me? After those ten years, we both die."
"I heard you," he says, his thumbs tracing circles on my palms. "But Lucille, none of us is guaranteed tomorrow, let alone a decade. I've seen wolves cut down in their prime by rogues, by accidents, by illness. Life offers no certainties."
"This is different," I protest. "This is knowing the end is coming. Knowing there's a time limit."
"Maybe," he concedes. "Or maybe it's a gift—knowing how precious each day is, never taking our time together for granted."
Tears spill down my cheeks. "How can you say that? How can you accept this so easily?"
"There's nothing easy about it," Ivan says, his voice rough with emotion. "But the alternative—living without you, denying what we both feel—that seems far worse to me."
"You'd choose ten years with me over a full life without me?" I ask, hardly daring to believe it.
"Without hesitation," he says, and the certainty in his silver eyes takes my breath away.
"But your pack—"
"Will have ten years to prepare for a transition," he counters. "More time than many Alphas give their successors."
I shake my head, overwhelmed by his acceptance, by his willingness to face this curse head-on. "You make it sound so simple."
"It's not simple," Ivan says. "It's the furthest thing from simple. But Lucille, I've felt the emptiness of these past weeks without you. I've felt my wolf howling for his mate. And today, seeing you in danger..." He pauses, his hands tightening around mine. "Life offers no guarantees. All we can do is make the most of the time we have."
"And if I can't bear the thought of causing your death?" I whisper.
"Then that's your choice to make," he says gently. "I won't force this bond on you. But know that I'm making my choice with open eyes. I choose you, Lucille. However much time we have."
My wolf whines, pushing against my skin, desperate to accept what our mate offers. For the first time, I don't push her back.
"I'm scared," I admit, my voice small.
"Of course you are," Ivan says. "So am I. But we'll face it together. And in the meantime, I promise you this—I will never stop looking for a way to break this curse. Never."
The determination in his voice, the strength in his gaze—it makes me want to believe. Makes me want to hope.
"We don't have to decide everything tonight," Ivan continues, sensing my struggle. "Take some time. Think about what you want, what you can live with."
I nod, grateful for his understanding. "Thank you for not thinking I'm crazy. For believing me about the curse."
"I've lived long enough to know there are forces in this world beyond our understanding," he says. "And I know you wouldn't lie about something like this."
He rises, still holding my hands, gently pulling me to my feet. We stand close, his scent—thunderstorm and forest—wrapping around me like a familiar blanket.
"Whatever you decide," he says softly, "know this: You are my mate, Lucille Blackwood. In this life and whatever comes after. Nothing—not time, not distance, not even a curse—changes that fundamental truth."
And then, slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, he leans down and presses his lips to my forehead in a kiss so gentle it makes fresh tears spring to my eyes.
My wolf sighs with contentment, finally at peace after weeks of turmoil. And for the first time since discovering our bond, I allow myself to imagine a future with Ivan—however brief it might be.
Because maybe he's right. Maybe ten years of happiness is better than a lifetime of emptiness. Maybe some things are worth the pain they bring.
And maybe, just maybe, there's a way to break the curse after all.
