Chapter 63
"The sun feels good," I murmured, turning my face toward the warmth. Two weeks had passed since the crash, and today marked my first time outside the sanctuary walls.
The simple wooden bench beneath a flowering tree offered the perfect vantage point to observe Crescent Valley's healers at work in their herb gardens. Though I still needed a cane for even short distances, each day brought noticeable improvement in my mobility.
Kane settled beside me, his presence now a comfortable constant in my daily routine. "I've heard from my informants in Blood Moon territory," he said, voice pitched low though no one was close enough to overhear. "Giana has moved into the Luna quarters."
I expected pain at this news—the final insult to my position—but found only a strange detachment. My fingers rose unconsciously to touch the mate mark on my neck.
"The bond continues to fade," I admitted. "I feel less connected to Raymond every day."
Kane's expression was thoughtful as he studied me. "The sacred texts mention rare cases where severe betrayal severs mate bonds."
"Is that even possible?" I asked. All my life, I'd been taught that mate bonds were unbreakable—the strongest connection werewolves could form.
"The old texts describe instances where bonds dissolved after profound betrayal," Kane explained. "Though such cases are exceedingly rare."
Before I could respond, the sanctuary's elder healer approached, carrying several ancient scrolls. She had taken a particular interest in my case, often joining our discussions.
"I couldn't help overhearing," she said, settling beside me on the bench. "What you're experiencing is unusual but not unprecedented."
She carefully unrolled one of the delicate parchments. "True mate bonds cannot be broken without grave consequence," she explained, her weathered finger tracing symbols on the ancient text. "But false ones can dissolve naturally."
"False?" I repeated, confusion and hope battling within me. "How could it be false when I felt it so strongly?"
The elder settled beside me, her expression gentle but firm. "Some wolves mark others without true mate recognition. The marked wolf feels the connection, but it's one-sided."
She continued, "A true mate bond is mutual, equal. One-sided bonds cause pain to the marked wolf when the marker is with another."
The description matched my experience perfectly—the excruciating pain when Raymond was with Giana, pain that only Kane's presence had been able to soothe.
"Are you saying Raymond was never my true mate?" I asked, the possibility both terrifying and liberating.
"A true mate wouldn't cause such suffering," the elder added. "The mark may have been possessive rather than genuine."
"But I felt it," I protested weakly. "For years, I felt connected to him."
"The marking ritual creates a powerful bond," the elder explained. "But ritual alone cannot create what the Moon Goddess has not ordained. A forced bond will always be unstable, causing pain rather than comfort."
Kane leaned forward, his expression intent. "If you were marked before meeting your true mate, you wouldn't recognize them."
The possibility sent my thoughts spiraling in unexpected directions. Had Raymond marked me out of possession rather than love? Had that marking prevented me from recognizing someone else as my true mate?
I shook away the thought, unwilling to follow where it led. "Is there a way to speed the process? To break the bond completely?"
The elder shook her head. "The bond will dissolve at its own pace. Attempting to force it could cause harm."
Throughout the day, I found myself touching the mark on my neck, noting how it seemed less prominent, its edges blurring where once they had been sharply defined.
Later that afternoon, I was walking slowly through the sanctuary gardens when sudden, sharp pain lanced through me from the mark. I doubled over, gasping, as Kane rushed to my side.
"What's happening?" he demanded, genuine fear in his voice.
"Raymond," I managed through clenched teeth. "Something's wrong with him."
The pain was different from before—not the burning agony of jealousy when he was with Giana, but something sharper, more urgent. Almost like the bond itself was tearing.
As quickly as it had come, the pain subsided, leaving me shaken but oddly lighter. The elder healer, who had been working nearby, hurried over to examine me.
She studied my neck, her eyes widening. "The bond is severing naturally," she said, wonder in her voice. "The mark is visibly fading."
"Does that mean Raymond is no longer my mate?" I asked, hardly daring to hope.
"It means the bond that was forced upon you is releasing its hold," she replied carefully. "Whether by his betrayal or something else entirely."
That night, I dreamed of Raymond for the first time since the crash. In the dream, he stood at a distance, a thin golden thread connecting us. As I watched, the thread grew thinner and thinner until it snapped, dissolving into mist.
I woke feeling strangely peaceful, my hand immediately going to my neck. Where Raymond's mark had once burned like a brand, only the faintest outline remained.
"It's almost gone," I told Kane the next morning as we walked through the garden. "I can barely feel it now."
Kane was unusually gentle that day, watching me with careful attention as I moved more freely than I had since the crash.
"You seem different today," he commented as we paused to rest by a small pond.
"Lighter," I agreed, realizing the word perfectly described my emotional state. "Like I've set down a heavy burden I've carried for years."
We sat in comfortable silence, watching the sunset paint the mountains with gold and crimson. The moment felt precious in its simplicity—no pack politics, no pretenses, just two people sharing a peaceful moment.
"I never understood what it was like," Kane said suddenly. "The pain you experienced from the mate bond. Not until I saw you suffering after the crash, when Raymond and Giana..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. We both knew what he meant.
"It was like being burned alive from the inside," I admitted quietly. "Every time they were together, it felt like my skin was being peeled away, layer by layer."
Kane's hand found mine, his touch gentle but grounding. "You never should have endured that. No one should."
A messenger arrived as darkness fell, bearing news from Luna Elena. Marcus was being moved to Silver Lake for specialized treatment.
"Elena believes someone at Blood Moon is continuing to poison him," Kane explained after reading the message. "She's taking him to safety."
I made my decision immediately. "I need to speak with her. We should leave for Silver Lake tomorrow."
Kane's objection was immediate. "You're not strong enough for travel yet."
Standing with determination, I took several unsteady but deliberate steps without my cane. "I'm stronger than I look."
Something shifted in Kane's expression—respect replacing protectiveness.
"We leave at dawn," he agreed. "But we travel my way—carefully and with protection."
I nodded, knowing "protection" meant Kane's personal security team. The fact that he had such resources at his disposal was yet another reminder that there was far more to him than the playboy persona he presented to the world.
That night, a sound woke me from light sleep. Opening my eyes, I found Kane sitting beside my bed, having dozed off while watching over me. The moonlight streaming through the window softened his features, making him look younger, less guarded than he did awake.
I studied him in the silver light, noticing details I'd missed before—the tiny scar near his right eyebrow, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the strong line of his jaw now softened in sleep.
When had this happened? When had Kane transformed from Raymond's annoying friend to... whatever he was now? Protector? Ally? Something more?
The realization that I cared for him—truly cared, beyond gratitude for his help or physical attraction—settled over me with surprising gentleness.
Carefully, I pulled a light blanket over his sleeping form, my hand lingering on his shoulder longer than necessary.
"Thank you for choosing me," I whispered, the words barely audible even in the quiet room.
Kane didn't stir, but somehow I felt he heard me anyway—the sentiment sinking into the growing connection between us, a connection that became stronger as Raymond's mark continued to fade from my skin.
