Word Count: 2213

~Meara

Carran's panic sets in immediately.

He sends a few guards off to search the home, but that only makes him more vulnerable. Sure enough, only moments later the last guard sets off, Sire stalks through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

Carran immediately scrambles back, rounding the desk as if it could do anything to protect him from his imminent death.

"You don't want to kill me," he hisses.

Sire glances to the side, to where I lean against the wall, cradling my bleeding wound. Something dark and lethal flicks across his eyes before he drags them back to Carran.

"Actually, I think I do," he says lowly.

Despite being the picture of death, he looks awfully casual. His hands are seated in his pockets, and there is not a single weapon in sight.

"My witches have very specific instructions if you do," Carran spits out, trying to hide his obvious fear behind a wall of venom. "Far more terrible things await you, Sire, if you kill me."

"You hurt my mate."

"She can be healed." Carran swallows thickly, looking at me and my deteriorating state. "Maybe."

Sire narrows his eyes ever-so-slightly. He's biding his time, although I can sense the unease. He knows I'm dying, and by the black splotches starting to form in my vision, I don't have much time left.

He takes another step toward the desk. "Are you willing to concede your title of Alpha to me?"

Carran's eyes widen, knowing he's cornered, that nothing is going to get him out of this now. He slowly edges around the desk, watching carefully for any sudden movements.

"I...I-"

Sire holds his hand up, ceasing the words coming from Carran's mouth.

In one last attempt to escape, Carran lurches for the door. Before his hand can grab the doorknob, he goes rigid, his eyes wide. His body turns, on what I doubt is his own volition, being forced to face Sire's wrath.

I let out a short gasp as Carran falls to his knees before Sire, who leans casually back against the desk. Carran is clearly not in control of himself anymore.

"I'm afraid my mate doesn't have enough time to hear you ramble," Sire mutters finally, raising his brows, still remaining eerily calm.

Carran's growl is cut short, a gurgling sound coming from his throat.

I watch in horror as he violently coughs up blood mixed with some dark substance, right at Sire's feet. My mate just watches on, arms folded over his chest, eyes cold.

I know it's his magic, as Carran writhes along the floor, choking on the strange black substance. I close my eyes, finding the sound haunting enough, but not before catching a glimpse at Sire's face.

Although he's calm, I can see him revelling in it. Every moment Carran suffers, trying and failing to breathe in air, Sire is thinking back to Kyro, the Alpha who took everything from him.

I don't open my eyes again until Carran falls silent.

He lies limp against the floor, his limbs twisted at strange ankles, that black substance mixing with blood, staining his cheeks beneath his eyes.

I forget my own pain as a feeling of nausea passes through me.

"It's pitiful, really," Sire mutters, shaking his head. "Had I known he wouldn't put up a fright, I would have done this easier."

"Sire..." I choke out.

His gaze snaps to me, immediately seeming to remember that I've been stabbed. He sweeps across the room, crouching down to examine me.

"What did he do to you?" he asks softly, concern knotting between his brows.

I look down at my blood soaked hands, trembling. "He stabbed me."

"Alright, let's get you out of here."

Sweeping his hands beneath me, he lifts me up. I grit my teeth, trying not to cry out in pain. We emerge from the office, Sire striding confidently down the hallway. He walks like there aren't witches and guards crawling all throughout the place.

"I thought you couldn't use your magic. That his witches warded the place..." I say through harsh breaths.

"I slaughtered them all," he responds coldly.

My eyes widen. "You did?"

"There were less of them than I expected," he comments, striding out into the foyer.

Sure enough, bodies litter the floor, their throats ripped out. I shove my face into Sire's neck, trying not to be sick. If I do, I'll be dead in seconds. I can already feel the blood from my wound seeping into Sire's clothing.

"Oh no..." I breathe. Carran has sent the remaining witches to do something...now we don't know, since Sire killed him before he could get it out.

Would his plan have been enough for Sire to think otherwise about killing him?

"Shh, don't say anymore. Hazel is waiting outside," he soothes, his eyes roving over me with concern. "I'll take you to safety."

He presses through the front door, carrying me down to the front stairs and onto the driveway. The sound of bodies hitting the ground makes me flinch, Sire magic ridding of any guards ready to attack. I keep my head against his shoulder, too relieved that Hazel has been liberated by my mate.

"Meara!" Hazel's voice has me looking up as she runs over.

I drink in the sight of her. Even in my wavering vision, she seems okay, except for an obvious bruise on her cheek and tattered clothes.

She's alive, that's all that matters. Even if I might not be for much longer...

"She has been stabbed. We need to get her to a healer," Sire exclaims urgently, nodding down to where I hold the side of my ribs, at where the blood pools.

"Take her back to mine," Hazel orders, as calm and collected as she usually is. "I know some magic that may be able to help."

"Okay."

My stomach drops, pain ratcheting through me as Sire transports us from Carran's estate to Hazel's home in the woods. I recognise it from the glimpses of it I can manage through grimaces of pain.

Sire rests me down on the dining room table as Hazel rushes around her kitchen, pulling out jars of unidentified substances. She places them next to my body, inspecting each one for something she is clearly looking for.

"We need to get any infection out of her blood, if she has any, before I can stitch it up," Hazel explains, screwing the lid off a jar full of green herbs. "This may help."

"What is it?" I ask warily, my throat dry.

Hazel hushes me by stuffing leaves of the herb into my mouth, pressing my jaw up until my teeth clench. My nose scrunches up as I chew on them, wondering if death would taste sweeter than this bitter plant.

"Shh, close your eyes," Hazel soothes as I open my mouth to spew some wild curse at her.

My vision starts to stir, dizziness gathering between my temples. I clutch either side of the table, trying not to pitch myself off the side as my world twists in every direction.

"What's happening to her?" Sire demands, a growling echoing in his tone.

Hazel waves him off, not intimidated by him in the slightest. "I'm putting her to sleep. Then we work."

I want to tell them to stop arguing, but my voice gets trapped in my throat, reality slipping through my fingers as I hurtle toward unconsciousness.

My vision goes black, their voices following me into oblivion.

***

My limbs are stiff as my eyes flutter open. It takes me a moment to register that I'm at Hazel's, lying on her old, worn couch.

The room is quiet, peaceful. The only sound is the curtains fluttering in the breeze from the open window, night air cooling my skin.

I turn my head, seeing my mate sitting on the far chair by the coffee table, reading something.

"Sire?" My voice sounds hoarse, unused.

He looks up, his stern and concentrated face melting away into a soft, concerned expression. He immediately comes to my side, taking my chilled hand into his.

"Hey," he murmurs gently. "How are you feeling?"

My other hand shifts down to my ribs, wincing at the pain that erupts from the wound. Thankfully my bloodied clothes are gone, and now I'm bundled in a sweater and loose pants that I recognise as Hazel's.

"It hurts," I grit out.

"Just rest. That nearly killed you," he says, pressing at my shoulder, ensuring I can't sit up despite every urge in my body telling me to.

Hazel emerges from her room, looking over me. I don't miss the flicker of relief at seeing me awake.

"I've enchanted some herbs to make a strong painkiller," she tells me. "I'll make tea for you."

I rest back into the pillow, trying to allow myself to relax. I was stabbed, I'm okay. Despite the pain, my head isn't foggy, and I don't feel the weight of imminent death pinning me down, beckoning me into its grasp.

"Thank you Hazel." I look back at my mate. "How long has it been?"

He sighs. "Days."

Just now, it dawns on me what he looks like. His eyes are rimmed red, dark shadows dwelling beneath them. His skin is sallow, his cheekbones hollow. Even his body seems tired, his shoulders sagging, his limbs weak.

"You don't look so good," I note.

"I could feel a lot of your pain, even when you were sleeping," he explains, exhaling through his nose. "And it almost killed me seeing you harmed."

The bond. Of course.

I knew how strong our new bond was, considering it's all I've felt, even in near death. I just had no idea it would affect him so deeply.

I grab his hand, squeezing it with as much strength as I can muster. "I'm sorry. I didn't know Carran would do that."

He's such a coward I always expected him to give in the moment we pressed him. I thought he would hand Hazel back to us, or let me walk out of there once I threatened him enough.

I didn't think he had it in him to try and kill me...

"He was desperate. He knew that I was going to kill him, and that he had to do something to weaken me. He thought his witches would be enough, but there were less than last time," Sire states. "He underestimated me, but our bond has fed me more power than I could possibly imagine. No one can take me down now."

I want to feel good about this, like we are triumphant. There was something in what Carran said, however, that is making me think otherwise.

"Something doesn't feel right about this," I convey to my mate. "What did he mean there are more terrible things than him?"

"He was trying to frighten you," he assures me, life being breathed back into him with every passing moment. "He knew I wanted to be Alpha, and he tried to cause doubts."

I shake my head, getting the feeling that this goes deeper. Why then, would he have so many less witches? Where did they all go?

Obviously not to kill Hazel, considering she's walking to me now, sliding a cup of warm tea into my hands.

"Does anyone know he's dead?" I ask.

"No. I've cleared out a good lot of his associates and workers," Sire explains. "I wiped their memory and sent them on their way, don't worry. We have time to figure out what to do next."

At least he didn't kill anyone, although I doubt the news will stay secret for much longer. Especially since days have passed, and there will be people waiting to hear something from their Alph.

"I have a bad feeling about all of this," I murmur, sipping from the tea, silently wishing it tasted less like dirt, although the effects start immediately, soothing my wound.

Sire smiles tightly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. "Don't. We should enjoy this time."

My eyes trace over his face, unable to fully comprehend our new reality.

"You're going to be the Alpha again," I whisper.

He nods, emotions still fresh despite the days he's had to consider it. We both knew he would accomplish this one day, I just can't believe it's now.

"Which means you are to be the Luna," he tells me. "Are you prepared for that?"

My heart flutters. "I don't know..."

Our Pack hasn't had a Luna since Carran's mother died, and I was so young then. I wouldn't know what goes into being one, but I can imagine worse paths for my life to take.

Sire leans forward, kissing my forehead. "You're going to make an excellent Luna. I just know it."

I smile, although it trembles a little. I just hope he's right.

🖤••🖤

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"...I've never had an orgasm before!" I blurt out, backing away a few steps.

He sits up, dark hair ruffled and messy from the fingers I ran through it. His eyes, once wide, slowly darken.

"You what?" He breathes.

~Midika 💜🐼