It's because she's different, a werewolf and witch combined to create a force that she hasn't come to terms with. I see it in her curiosity, the way she gasps when she reaches for a blade of grass, only to watch it burn as if she put a match to it. I see it in the way she snatches her hand back accusingly, unwilling to accept that she's the one doing that. She's the one in control, but it's only through her emotions, which are all over the place now.
My heart cracks when she does, and I see her shaking as she sobs into her palms, barely touching her face, as if she's afraid that she'll burn herself.
Something in me snaps, and I feel the same way I felt when I forced myself to believe that breaking up with her was better for her safety. I was a coward back then, and I'm being a coward now.
But Sophie needs me. She needs the truth. And it's about damn time that I do the right thing.
I've been going about this all wrong. First, forcing her into marrying me, and now this.
“Fuck it!” I murmur under my breath and head outside.
“Sophie…” I call out gently, my tone a stark contrast to my inner voice that chastises myself, or the voice I use when commanding my wolves or sitting in a council meeting. That's when it hits me—Sophie isn't just my strength, but she's my weakness, too. And that's probably the most powerful bond a werewolf can ever experience.
She doesn't look back and just continues to shake, quaking as if her whole body feels the ruthlessness of her emotions. I step up behind her, cloaking her in my shadow.
When she still refuses to acknowledge me, I crouch and wrap my arms around her, surprised when she doesn't fight me or push me away. She's breaking, cracking open as if she's finally accepting what she’s becoming.
“I'm sorry…” I begin with a whisper in her ear, holding her as she cries, being the anchor she needs as she makes the transition from what I'm about to tell her. But it's only when her sobbing subsides into soft whimpers, and her body stops shaking so much, the earth around us calming, that I pull away and meet her eyes.
“There's something you need to know, Sophie.”
“No more surprises,” she whimpers, sniffing again. “I can't take it anymore.”
I cradle her face with both hands, staring deeply into her eyes as I wipe her tears with my thumbs. “You are stronger than you realize, Sophie. You need to hear this.”
A frown flits over her face, and she nods timidly, my cue to continue.
“You are not who you think you are. You are notwhatyou think you are.”
Her bottom lip quivers. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you're special. And I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to see it, and so long to tell you this, but you are not just a human, Sophie.”
Her frown deepens now. “What are you saying?”
I take a deep breath before I continue. “Our research team has discovered that you're a descendant of the fire pack from the south—the one wiped out by the demons many years ago.”
I pause as Sophie's eyes widen, and I feel her begin to tremble again, as if her body responds to the information, her cells remembering.
“Many, many decades ago, demons wiped out a pack in the south of Bitterroot, but we discovered that their alpha was mated to a witch. Their children must have survived.”
“One child…” she whispers, eyes glowing with recognition. “I saw it…in a dream…”
“Yes, Sophie. You're remembering who you are. Who you were born to be. It is no coincidence that you are a gifted healer and destroyer of demons. You were born for so much more.”
Sophie lifts a hand to mine, her voice trembling as her eyes fill with fresh tears. “I'm scared, Damian. I never thought…”
“It's nothing either of us can control, Sophie. I'm sorry for springing this news on you, but it's about time you understood and made peace with it.”
She cries again, sobbing against my chest as she drops her head there, and I hold her tightly to let her know that I'm never letting go.
“I know it's a lot to take in, but take all the time you need…” I whisper gently.
A long moment passes, in which only Sophie's wails can be heard, but as she cries, it's like she's releasing, letting go of her old identity to make space for this new one. I can feel it leaving her body, and she feels lighter, finally lifting her face, cheeks streaked with tears.
“I need time to process this,” she says, voice flat again as she becomes numb once more.
I nod gently, pulling away slowly when she presses her palms to the ground, and the earth's reaction is visible as it responds to her with vibration.
