Chapter 22: Chapter 22

LUXURY

“Alpha, you have responsibilities to attend to.”

I gritted my teeth, forcing my breathing to remain steady as I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt. The scent of blood, herbs, and faint antiseptic clung to the infirmary walls, clashing with the scent that bound itself into my lungs—Selene.

They wanted me to leave her.

Fen growled inside me, a low, irritated rumble.

They thought I should be out there, leading, reassuring, taking control. As if they had any right to demand anything from me after trying to kill my mate.

“The council members are demanding your presence,” Julian, one of my advisors, pressed. “The pack is still recovering from the losses. And with what happened—”

“What happened?” I cut him off sharply, my tone sending a shiver of unease through the room.

Julian hesitated. “Alpha, your people almost killed you.”

A muscle in my jaw ticked.

I knew what happened.

They attacked me, challenged me, because I stood by Selene. Because I refused to cast her aside. Because she was human.

Except she wasn’t anymore.

And she was my mate.

Their challenge meant nothing.

She shifted to protect me. She saved my life. And when I sank my teeth into her flesh, marking her, claiming her, making her mine—she’d done the same.

It wasn’t a question anymore. It wasn’t up for debate.

Selene was my luna.

And the pack ~would~ respect her.

“The pack has accepted her now,” Julian continued, careful, measured. “But the council still wants answers. You mated a human—”

“She is not human.” My voice was low, final.

Julian paused.

No one expected it.

No one believed Selene would ever shift.

Not after all these years.

But she had.

She set fire to the cage that held her, and her wolf tore through, answering the call that had always been waiting for her.

She was wolf now.

And yet—

“You are still healing,” Julian tried again, “And the pack is looking to you for leadership. They need reassurance that—”

“My luna needs me.”

The words came out low, absolute.

Julian hesitated again, but I could hear his exhale, sharp and knowing.

There was no winning this.

He accepted it, murmuring under his breath before slipping out of the room. The rest of my retainers followed him, finally leaving me in peace.

I turned back toward the cot.

She was still, but not in the way she used to be. Now, her body remained heavy, her breaths shallow. Even her scent was wrong. Faint. Distant.

I reached out, letting my palm settle against her cheek.

Something wasn’t right. She should be healing faster.

Her body wasn’t responding to the shift the way it should have. It was fighting something. I lowered myself onto the edge of the cot, careful not to jostle her.

I inhaled deeply, letting the warmth of her skin ground me, searching for the steady drum of her pulse beneath my fingers.

Still strong.

Still there.

But her wolf…

Her wolf was silent.

A new wolf’s instincts should be thrumming, clawing forward, demanding dominance, control, presence.

But Selene’s wolf was buried.

Just like before.

My jaw tightened.

~Why~?

~What was holding her back~?

Her body, even now, felt too fragile, too worn, like she was hanging in the space between worlds, not fully stepping into her new self.

And I hated it.

I hated not knowing what was wrong.

I pressed my forehead to hers, grounding myself in her warmth.

“Come back to me, little wolf.”

A heartbeat and then, her breath stuttered. I pulled back slightly as Selene’s fingers twitched beneath mine.

My fingers curled slightly, adjusting my grip as I felt her wake.

Not just physically.

Her wolf stirred, too.

She was here.

But she wasn’t the same.

She was breathing differently.

Shallow. Unsteady.

I could feel the change in her, the way her presence pushed against mine, raw and untamed.

Fen stirred.

Alert. Watching.

And then—she growled.

It wasn’t loud, wasn’t aggressive, but it was instinctive. A sharp, reflexive sound of territory, of defiance, of something primal surfacing beneath her skin.

It was too soon.

She had barely woken, her body still weak, but her wolf was already battling for space.

My fingers flexed against her cheek, grounding her, letting her feel me, reminding her who I was.

Who she was.

“Rest,” I murmured, my voice rough with exhaustion.

She tensed, her breath uneven. “Hard to do with you hovering.”

Still stubborn.

But I could hear the difference in her voice now.

It wasn’t just exhaustion.

There was an edge.

A sharpness, a tension beneath the surface.

Her breathing deepened slightly, and I felt it.

That feral shift.

The part of her that was no longer human.

Her transition had been violent. Sudden. She didn’t have time to adjust, to process.

New wolves always struggled. She wasn’t used to the instincts. The pull of the pack bond. The raw, untamed presence of her wolf clawing at the edges of her thoughts. She was wild now. Unstable.

I dragged my thumb across her jaw, slow, steady, calming.

“You should be healing faster,” I murmured.

Her body tensed.

A sharp exhale. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

Sarcasm. Good.

That meant she was still herself.

Mostly.

I ignored her irritation. “You should be stronger than this.”

Her fingers clenched in the blanket. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

I did.

Or at least—I was starting to understand.

“You’re fighting something,” I said. “Something deeper than the shift.”

Something that had always been inside her.

Something that kept her caged for years.

Selene was wolf now.

But her body was rejecting what it had always been meant to be.

And I didn’t know why.

Her breath came faster, frustration rolling off her in waves. “And if I can’t win?”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Then I will fight for you.”

She froze.

For a long moment, there was nothing.

Just the quiet hum of our breathing, the distant creak of the infirmary settling around us.

Then—she exhaled. Not in relief. In acceptance.

She knew I meant it. I nearly died for her, and I would do it again. As many times as it took.

The infirmary door creaked open, and the familiar scent of the pack doctor filled the air—earthy, sharp with herbs, tinged with the faint bitterness of old books and incense.

I didn’t need to see her to know who it was.

Dr. Lillian’s steps were light, deliberate, but I heard the hesitation in her breath, the faint rustling of her clothes as she approached.

She was wary.

Good.

She should be.

She cleared her throat softly, addressing me as though she were trying not to wake a sleeping predator. “Alpha. How is she?”

I exhaled slowly, fingers still resting against Selene’s pulse. “She’s awake.”

A pause.

Then the sound of shifting fabric, the gentle movement of Lillian kneeling beside the cot. Her presence inched closer, until I felt the warmth of her hands hovering over Selene.

Selene tensed beneath my fingers.

She was aware.

Even in this state, too aware.

Lillian’s voice was softer now, but clinical. “Selene, how do you feel?”

Selene took a slow breath. She didn’t answer right away.

That wasn’t normal.

She always had something to say, always had a sharp remark. Instead, she hesitated.

And I hated that.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” she muttered finally, voice rough, strained—not just from exhaustion, but from something deeper.

Lillian hummed, thoughtful. I heard her hands shift, the faintest brush of fingers checking pulse points, pressing lightly against bruises. Her movements were careful, but her breathing told me what I already suspected.

She was worried.

Lillian pulled away slightly, and her voice dipped lower. “She should be healing faster.”

I clenched my jaw. “I know.”

Another pause. The rustle of paper—a notebook, pages turning. The edge of frustration in the scratch of her pen.

“She’s stable in human ways,” Lillian murmured. “But in wolf ways…” She hesitated. “She’s not responding the way she should.”

She didn’t need to say it.

I already knew.

I turned my head slightly toward Lillian. “I need another set of eyes.”

She stilled. “A specialist?”

I shook my head. “A witch.”

Silence.

I could feel her hesitation.

“Alpha, that’s unconventional.”

I exhaled sharply, biting back my frustration. “You said it yourself. She may be fine in mortal ways. But she is not fine in wolf ways.”

Another pause. Then, softer—“You believe there’s something else at work.”

“I don’t believe, Lillian.” My voice was cold. “I know.”

Selene’s wolf should have surfaced long before now.

Now that it had, it was still buried deep.

It was unnatural.

Lillian shifted again. “I have connections. But a witch…they’ll ask for something in return.”

“I don’t care.”

Lillian’s breath hitched slightly.

I rarely lost my temper.

But the idea of Selene being trapped in her own body again—after all she’d fought through—

I would burn the world before I let that happen.

Lillian exhaled slowly. “I’ll send word.”

Her footsteps retreated toward the door, slow, measured.

And I knew—she believed me.

Because even she could tell.

Selene wasn’t fine.

Not in the ways that mattered.

The door shut softly.

I turned back to my mate.

Her breathing was steady, but there was tension in her muscles.

I brushed my knuckles along her cheek. “You’re still awake.”

A soft exhale. “Hard to sleep with you looming over me.”

Her voice was weaker than usual, but I heard the attempt at normalcy.

It didn’t fool me.

“You heard what I said?”

A pause.

Then, softly—“You’re bringing in a witch.”

It wasn’t a question.

She didn’t sound surprised.

She sounded…resigned.

I frowned. “You’re not healing like you should. If something is wrong, I need to know.”

Her fingers twitched against the blanket. “And if I don’t want to?”

I stilled.

Not because she argued.

But because she was scared.

Selene wasn’t afraid of pain. She wasn’t afraid of fighting.

But this?

This was different.

I inhaled, adjusting my grip on her. My fingers skimmed along her forearm, pressing against her pulse.

“Are you afraid of what they’ll find?”

Her breath hitched.

Then—

“Yes.”

The word was small.

And fuck, it sent something sharp and violent surging through my chest.

She fought so hard.

She had saved me.

And now she was drowning in something neither of us could name.

I wouldn’t allow that.

I pulled her closer, feeling the way her body curled into mine, her warmth pressing against my healing wounds.

“You are wolf,” I murmured against her hair. “You are strong. And whatever this is—we will fight it, my luna. Together.”

She didn’t answer right away.

But she didn’t pull away either.

Instead, her breathing evened out, slow, steady.

Because she knew, just as well as I did—

This fight wasn’t over.

Not yet.