Something twists low in my chest at that. Not because of the words, but because of the way he's so calm, respectful, and restrained when he delivers them.
All I'm feeling is frustration!
This is worse than before.
Before, there had been heat in his gaze. Tension sharp enough to cut through. Now, there's space. Patience. The kind of careful distance that makes me aware of every inch between us.
“Again,” he says, stepping back to give me room.
I take a deep breath for composure, trying to push aside my frustration because it's distracting. I summon the fire once more, and it comes easily. No tremor. No surge. Just warmth gathering, shaping itself to my will as if it’s always known how this is supposed to feel. Damian watches without interrupting,his presence steady but contained. He doesn’t reach out, doesn’t correct me unless it’s necessary.
When I let go and allow my fire to retreat, all I’m left with is my frustration. He doesn't touch me, hardly meets my eyes, and this restraint is worse than his pursuit ever was.
The other night, I could have sworn he was going to kiss me, until his uncle showed up. Now, this restraint feels chosen, a conscious decision made out of thin air.
Unless I'm the one going insane.
We repeat the exercise until my muscles ache and the sun climbs higher, burning the mist away from the valley. I’m just beginning to settle into the rhythm—the quiet exchange of instruction and execution—when the air shifts.
Damian feels it at the same time I do.
James approaches from the tree line, his pace brisk, his expression tight. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, but he does offer me a quick bow before turning to Damian.
“Alpha…” he says, stopping a few feet away. “Scouts just reported new movement along the eastern ridge. And further south.”
Damian straightens immediately, the shift in him subtle but unmistakable. Command settles over him like a mantle. “Demons?”
“Not attacks,” James replies with a nod. “Presence, like they're probing. Pulling back when the soldiers get closer. They're picking them up through scent, but the demons aren't attacking.”
I glance between the two men, the unease creeping in despite myself.
“They’re testing us, but that means they're trying something new. Something different. Adapting, maybe,” Damian says quietly.
James nods. “Heinrich wants a meeting. The report came through him.”
Damian’s jaw tightens. He looks at me then—not with urgency, not with fear, but with something heavier. It's almost like calculation or consideration.
“I’ll be there,” he throws over his shoulder to James. “Alert the council.”
James turns and disappears back into the trees.
The clearing feels different now. Tighter. The ease of the training moment is gone, replaced by the familiar tension of a valley on edge. Damian exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck before meeting my gaze again.
“We’ll stop here for today,” he says. “Get some rest. Unless you want to join me for the meeting.”
A frown passes over my face, but I shake my head slowly, the fire still humming beneath my skin, unsettled. However, I've learned to trust my instincts, and right now, there isn't any major threat.
The demons aren't coming. Yet.
“I'd rather get some rest. I'm at the clinic today.”
Damian nods, holding my gaze for a moment while something unspoken flashes through his blue eyes. His lips quiver, like he's about to open them and speak, but then, he doesn't, and I feel my heart rattle between my ribs, like it's threatening to break.
As he turns to leave, the space between us stretches again, the unresolved tension pulling taut like a rubber band.
For the first time since my power began to steady, I realize it isn’t the fire that’s testing my control.
It’s everything that's not happening between Damian and me.
