Chapter 20: Chapter 20

LUXURY

Fire.

It licked up my spine, curling around every muscle, every wound.

But it wasn’t what truly had my focus.

Selene.

Even barely conscious, even as she was laid on a cot across from me in the pack infirmary, she was a force. The scent of her shift still clung to the air—like something reborn, something unleashed.

She wasn’t mortal anymore.

That thought settled deep, curling in my chest like something inevitable.

But Erik was pacing.

And I knew exactly what was coming.

The infirmary was a mess of movement—wolves being tended to, healers working to salvage the damage the battle had done. The scent of blood was thick, but I’d long learned to tune it out.

Erik, however, was not so easily ignored.

“We lost four more,” he said, voice tight.

I didn’t answer.

“Four, Lux.”

I breathed out slowly, my head tilting toward him.

Even in my weakened state, he hesitated before meeting my blind gaze.

Good.

At least he still remembered who the fuck I was.

“Do you know how many we’ve lost today?” he continued, his voice low, almost shaking with restrained anger. “More than we should have. More than we needed to.”

I waited. Let him spill it out. Let him lash his frustration at me because I knew Erik well enough to know that he didn’t do this often—not like this.

“And for what?” he seethed, stepping closer. “A mortal?”

There it was.

The crack in his composure.

The thing that had been simmering beneath the surface for years.

Erik hated mortals.

I’d always known it. He didn’t hide it. Not from me.

I could feel the weight of his resentment pressing into me, the unspoken words clawing to be let out.

“She is one of us.” My voice was quieter than his, but it didn’t need to be loud to be effective.

Erik’s jaw ticked. “She wasn’t. She was a twenty-one-year-old ~mortal~.”

“Good thing she’s not anymore.”

Silence.

A thick, suffocating pause.

His nostrils flared, his fists clenching at his sides as if forcing himself not to say something he would regret. Instead, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “They used her as an excuse.” His voice was lower now, more calculated. “Those wolves you tore apart? They wanted to challenge you. They were looking for an opportunity, and you gave them one.”

I tilted my head slightly. “And?”

Erik’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“They weren’t loyal to begin with.” My tone remained neutral. “They were just waiting for the right moment.”

“The right moment shouldn’t have cost us this many wolves,” he bit out. “I can respect your strength, Alpha, but I don’t have to pretend to like it when it’s wasted on those who weren’t even worthy of your time.”

That made me smile. Just a little.

Even in his anger, his resentment, Erik was loyal.

His hatred for mortals would always be there. But his loyalty to me? That was immovable.

So, I let him have his anger. Let him pace. Let him spit out his grievances. Then I gave him something to focus on.

“Save your hatred of mortals for the hunters.” My voice dropped just slightly, my tone sharpening despite the exhaustion weighing down my body. “Because they were the ones who made this happen.”

Erik stilled.

The air shifted.

I watched the tension in his shoulders coil, the conflict flickering in his gaze.

He was angry. He needed to direct that anger somewhere.

And he knew I was right.

Slowly, his fists uncurled.

A breath. A decision.

Then, he nodded once.

“Fine.” His voice was quieter now, but still tight. “Then let’s finish what they started.”

I grinned, despite the pain, despite the exhaustion creeping at the edges of my mind.

That was the Erik I knew.

And if war was coming, we’d be ready.

***

Later, the infirmary was quiet.

Dark.

Only the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional labored breath from the injured wolves broke the silence. The sharp scent of herbs and antiseptic mingled with the lingering metallic tang of blood, a reminder of everything we’d lost in the last few days.

I lay on my cot, body aching, the wounds across my back and ribs knitting back together at an agonizingly slow pace. Shifting had helped speed up the healing, but even an alpha had limits.

My pack was recovering. And so was she.

Selene.

I could hear her breathing, steady but shallow, like she was trying to find rest and failing. Her presence felt like a storm on the horizon—distant but charged, waiting to strike.

My wolf stirred.

Fen.

The beast inside me had been silent for a while now, not coming forward to speak unless he felt I’d ~actually~ listen, but I felt him shift restlessly beneath my skin, unsettled, as if something wasn’t right.

And then, he spoke.

“You said it yourself. She is not mortal anymore, Lux.”

I inhaled slowly, eyes slipping closed.

“~I know that~.”

“Then why do you still run?”

My fingers curled into the thin blanket beneath me.

I’d spent this time knowing that Selene—a mortal—could never be mine. I’d told myself, over and over, that my fate was separate from hers. That I could never allow myself to touch, to claim, to take.

But that wasn’t true anymore.

Fen growled, low and primal, the sound vibrating through my very bones.

“You are out of excuses. She belongs to us now.”

My chest ached—not from my wounds, but from the way those words settled into me, from the way they felt like a truth I had been avoiding for too damned long.

I’d spent too much time caging myself, denying what every instinct screamed at me. But now…there was nothing stopping me. No more running. No more denying.

My mind sharpened, my power stretching outward, slipping past the veil of my thoughts, reaching for her.

I didn’t mean to.

I’d forgotten I could do that.

But suddenly, I was inside her mind, touching the edges of her consciousness like a phantom, a whisper.

“~Selene~.”

There was a pause—long, uncertain. Then a soft gasp, her voice slipping into my mind like silk, breathless and quiet.

“…~Alpha?~”

“~Come to me~.”

A hesitation. Then—

~“Are you healed enough?~”

“~I should be asking you that~,” I murmured, and I felt her amusement, light and fleeting, like the brush of fingers over skin.

There was another short pause and then, movement. The soft rustle of fabric. The shuffle of bare feet on the cold floor.

I turned my head slightly, listening, waiting. And then, my curtain shifted.

She stood there, worn from battle, but the weight of her gaze held something new. Something wild.

Something ~wolf~.

She was here.

With me.

And I was done pretending I didn’t need her.

“Come here,” I murmured, my voice rough, hand lifting slightly in invitation.

Selene hesitated for only a breath before she moved, stepping closer, sliding onto my cot, her body still holding traces of uncertainty.

I exhaled through my nose, wrapping an arm around her waist, guiding her closer.

The warmth of her was instant.

Her breath hitched, her fingers grazing my stomach. “You—”

“I need you to lie down.” My voice was low, rasping, edged with something that went far beyond simple command. “You’re still weak. And there’s no better place to heal than here.”

She stilled, her pulse jumping beneath my fingertips.

Then—she gave in.

She let her body sink against mine, her cheek pressing to my chest, my arm locking around her, keeping her there.

And fuck—it felt right.

Too right.

For so long, I’d denied myself this. Denied myself her.

She shifted slightly, the brush of her thigh against mine sending heat curling through me.

My fingers traced lazy circles along the bare skin of her hip. A slow, absent-minded motion—but she felt it.

Her breath stuttered, her fingers curling against my chest, hesitant yet eager.

I tilted my head down, my nose grazing her temple. “You feel that?” I murmured.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

I pressed my fingers more firmly into her waist, pulling her that much closer. “Then don’t fight it.”

She hesitated.

Then—she turned in my arms.

The curves of her body molded to mine, her warmth pressing into me, stealing what little control I had left.

The kiss wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t frenzied.

It was slow—like the calm after a storm, like the smoldering embers of something that had burned for far too long.

Her lips were soft, hesitant at first, but I could feel it—the way she needed this. Needed me.

Her hands slid up my chest, fingers threading into my hair, and I groaned into her mouth, my grip tightening on her hips.

We were both still raw from battle, our limbs heavy with exhaustion.

But none of that mattered.

I shifted, rolling her beneath me, my body pressing into hers as I kissed her deeper, as I let my hands explore.

She gasped, arching into me, and fuck—

That sound.

That perfect, breathless sound sent something dark surging through me.

Her scent was everywhere, richer now, laced with the lingering traces of her shift, of her wolf finally breaking free.

And it ruined me.

I inhaled deeply, my nose skimming over the column of her throat, drinking her in. My fingers flexed against her waist, feeling the way her muscles tensed, eager, trembling slightly.

She wasn’t afraid.

She was waiting.

Her breath ghosted across my skin as she tilted her head back slightly, exposing her neck. I followed the invitation without hesitation, dragging my lips over the delicate curve, my teeth just barely scraping—testing.

She gasped.

My grip tightened.

Her fingers traced up my arms, slow and exploratory, feeling the shape of my muscles, the places where my skin was marred with old scars. I could hear the soft catches in her breath as she mapped me with her touch—an old wound, a ridge of muscle, the faintest tremor in my stomach when her nails skimmed too lightly.

She was memorizing me.

And fuck, it was undoing me.

Her lips found mine again, slow and deliberate, not rushed, not desperate—intentional.

Every movement was measured, both of us still aching, still torn from the fight, but unable to ignore the raw, hungry pull between us.

Her hands slid down my back, nails scraping lightly against my skin, sending heat pooling low in my stomach.

I exhaled harshly, pressing my forehead to hers, grounding myself in the moment.

“Are you sure?” My voice was rough, strained.

Selene didn’t hesitate.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispered, her hands sliding up my back, nails dragging just lightly over the still-healing wounds.

A shudder racked through me.

She felt it.

And she smiled.

I tilted my head down, capturing her lips in another slow, searing kiss.

I let myself feel it. Feel her.

Feel every second I’d spent resisting this, resisting ~us~, only to end up here, where I had always been meant to be.

Her hands moved with me, learning, exploring, pressing against my chest, my stomach, mapping out the places only she would ever touch.

And I let her.

Because the moment I claimed her, there would be no going back.