Chapter 208

Damon

I should have left days ago. Every part of me knew it.

A King doesn’t linger in strange villages, pretending to be a traveler, pretending not to recognize his mate. But every time I tried to go, something in me refused to move.

So, I stayed.

The villagers were simple, unbothered by my presence. They passed me in the square with polite nods, none the wiser that their quiet little world was being stalked by an Alpha predator.

And Lila was there…always there.

The first time I saw her again, I’d thought the world had stopped again. Now I realized it hadn’t stopped at all. It had simply learned to move around her without me.

She stood in the morning light outside the apothecary, her sleeves rolled up despite the chill in the air, braiding bundles of herbs.

Her hair was loose, the color deeper, and her skin glowed with warmth and health and the faintest shimmer when the light hit her just right.

She looked… peaceful. Happy.

Every motion she made was deliberate and unhurried. She smiled at a patient, wiped a child’s tears, bent to speak softly to an old man who kissed her hand in gratitude.

All while her power glimmered faintly as she worked; a silver light, steady and controlled. The people adored her. I could see it in their faces.

Zane stirred inside me, restless. Mate.

“She’s not ours anymore,” I muttered.

He snarled. You think mating bonds vanish because you will them to?

I ignored him, watching Lila instead. The sound of her voice carried on the wind – melodic like her singing voice, too gentle for this world.

It struck me like a blade to the ribs, sharp and merciless. She had built a life. And I was not part of it.

The twins were never far from her. They darted through the square like streaks of light, laughter bright and unguarded. The boy’s hair gleamed dark against the sun; the girl’s eyes caught the light like her mother’s.

They both clung to her skirts, hiding behind her legs whenever someone new approached.

Every time she leaned down to speak to them – tucking a stray curl behind her daughter’s ear, kissing her son’s temple – my chest constricted.

I thought I knew what love looked like. I hadn’t understood until now.

The boy turned suddenly, glancing toward me. His eyes caught mine. They were gold. My pulse stuttered.

No. It couldn’t be.

I turned away, jaw tight, forcing air into my lungs. It was coincidence. Fate’s cruelty, nothing more. Children mirrored people all the time. He couldn’t be…

Stop lying to yourself, Zane growled, the words rumbling through my mind. You know exactly what he is.

I shut Zane out.

The market went on around me, a quiet hum of life I didn’t belong to. Someone laughed near the well, the sound rich and free.

Lila joined them a moment later, her smile easy, her hand brushing the shoulder of the male beside her. Kael, the one she worked with, or so I had been told. The sight burned.

I had killed monsters and Rogues without blinking. But watching her laugh with another male made me want to tear the world apart again.

I gripped the edge of the bench until the wood creaked beneath my fingers. She looked well. She was safe. That was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it?

So why did it feel like I was dying inside?

The day passed slowly, the light softening into amber and then fading to dusk. I’d been on the same bench for hours.

The square emptied, one lantern at a time. When Lila finally turned toward home, the twins in her arms, her laughter echoing faintly down the path, I felt something inside me crumble.

I told myself again that I’d leave tomorrow. I’d disappear before my presence disturbed her more that it already had.

But when the moon rose, I was still there, sitting alone on the same bench, watching her window glow softly in the dark.

Every instinct screamed go to her, but every ounce of reason said stay away.

In the end, I did what I’ve always done when I didn’t know which voice to obey. I waited. From the quiet edge of her world, I watched the only peace I’d ever wanted and could never have.

And still, I stayed for days.

The village had a rhythm, and I began to move with it; repairing fences, hauling wood, escorting the females who gathered herbs near the tree line.

They were wary at first. Wolves always are. But fear dulls fast when hunger and weather are the greater threat.

I found work that didn’t require words: swinging a hammer, lifting beams, carrying sacks from the mill to the market. No one asked questions, and I didn’t offer answers. The quiet labor gave my hands something to do besides clench into fists to keep myself from reaching for her.

It was strange, living among people who didn’t bow or flinch when I passed. They saw me as a stranger, a male with scarred hands and a confident voice. Not a King or a beast. Just a male.

I’d forgotten what that felt like.

Every so often, I’d catch glimpses of her across the square.

Lila at the well laughing with the baker’s wife. Lila kneeling to bandage a scraped knee. Lila carrying herbs through the snow.

I never approached her, but sometimes our eyes would meet in brief, sharp flashes that left my pulse stuttering.

She didn’t glare or smile. She simply looked, as if memorizing me all over again, and then turned away before the moment could mean anything more.

It was enough to keep me alive and nearby.

The villagers started to nod when they saw me, even the elders who had first crossed the street to avoid an intimidating stranger. They brought me bread and small gifts of thanks.

One male, a wiry old man missing half his teeth, said, “For a traveler, you sure seem like you mean to stay a while.”

I didn’t know how to answer that. Maybe I was staying, even if I had no right to.

One afternoon, while I was stacking firewood behind the tavern, I heard soft footsteps crunching over the snow. Two small figures peeked around the corner of the woodpile.

The twins.

They watched me with open curiosity, the way only children could. The boy’s eyes, gold and bright, locked on mine, while the girl clutched a bundle of dried flowers against her chest.

“Did you fix that roof?” she asked, pointing across to the bakery where they were playing with the other children.

“I did,” I said carefully.

She looked proud of her discovery. “Mama said whoever did it saved us from gettin rained on again…” She stepped forward and held out the bundle. “Thank you.”

The boy nodded solemnly beside her. “Auren made you a present.”

I crouched down slowly, taking the herbs from her small hands. Lavender and sage, tied together with a bit of frayed string. The scent hit me; Lila’s hair after rain, the apothecary scent that clings to her sleeves.

“Tell her I said thank you,” I murmured, my voice rougher than I intended.

“She said you’re ‘sposed to rest and we’re not to bother you,” the boy said. “But you should come to the garden when you’re better. Mama grows the best mint.”

I managed a faint smile. “Maybe I will.”

They grinned, unafraid, and darted away, leaving me alone with the flowers. For a long moment, I just crouched there, holding them like they were more precious than the crown.

Zane stirred softly. They know you.

“They can’t,” I whispered. “They shouldn’t.”

And yet they do.

That night, I set the flowers on the small table by my bed, their scent filling the room. The bundle looked absurd there, the only decoration in an otherwise barren room.

Outside, the snow was falling again. From the window, I could see the faint glow of the apothecary’s light. A shadow moved past the curtains; Lila checking the shutters before bed.

Sleep was a stranger, I just sat there until dawn, a single flower between my fingers, and tried to remember what it felt like to be at peace.

When I finally rose, the thought that came to me wasn’t leave. It was stay a little longer