Instead, she lifted her chin with a determination that sent heat racing through him. “You need to start explaining yourself. Why you’ve been purposely avoiding me.” Her eyes flashed with something fierce and uncompromising. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you’ve just been too busy, because I can feel some of your emotions through the mate bond now. They’re fuzzy, but clear enough to know you’ve been pushing me away on purpose because of your fears, not because clan business suddenly became more important.”
Shit.
He should have realized that claiming her, even partially, would strengthen their connection. The bond was growing whether he fed it or not, creating pathways between them that she was apparently learning to navigate.
“I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you sooner,” he said, rising from his chair. “I should have at least checked on how you’re doing?—”
“I don’t want to hear your apologies anymore.” Her voice cut through his words like a blade. “I want to see your actions. And clearly, your actions lately have shown that you don’t care about me.”
The accusation hit him like an arrow, and he moved around the desk before he could stop himself. “That’s not true. I care about you more than anything?—”
“Really?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Because avoiding me for three straight days doesn’t exactly make it seem that way.”
“You don’t understand.” The words came out desperate.
“I’ve been trying to understand.” Her voice rose slightly, passion bleeding through the careful control. “I’ve probably been giving you too much credit, too much of my understanding and patience than you deserve.”
The truth burned in his throat, demanding release. “I can’t be with you, Isla,” he said finally. “I was hoping that if I avoided you enough, you would just... leave.”
The words hung in the air. He watched her face cycle through shock, hurt, and finally something that looked dangerously like rage.
“So, you just want me to pack my suitcase and leave then?” Her voice cracked slightly. “After everything—being fated mates, what we shared—you just want to kick me to the curb and that’s it?”
“I can’t have you get any closer to me.” The confession tore from him. “If we were to complete the mate bond, you’ll always be a target for my enemies. You wouldn’t be able to handle that.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s a decision you get to make, even if you are Alpha,” she fired back, stepping closer. “To decide what I can and can’t handle.”
“Well fine. But I can’t handle it if something were to ever happen to you.” His voice broke on the words. “If you ended up dead like my parents because of me?—”
There it was. His deepest terror laid bare like an open wound. The fear that his touch was poison disguised as protection.
“Damon.” Her voice gentled slightly. “I understand what happened to you a century ago was tragic, but you have to stop blaming yourself. You have to stop thinking that you will cause people to die.”
“It’s hard to stop thinking that way when it happened,” he said roughly. “I caused people to die, and if I cause you to die, I would never be able to live with myself. I would be destroyed for good.”
The raw honesty of it, the complete vulnerability he was offering, seemed to strip away the last of his strength. This woman was fighting for them, fighting to understand him when any sensible person would have walked away. The weight of that realization, combined with three days of self-imposed torture and a century of guilt, finally brought him to his knees.
Literally.
His legs gave out and he collapsed, burying his face in his hands as the first sob tore from his throat. For the first time in a hundred years, tears came—hot and unstoppable, carrying with them every moment of loss, every sleepless night, every day he’d convinced himself that isolation was strength.
He expected her to leave. Expected to hear her footsteps retreating, the door closing with finality. What strong, beautiful woman would want to see the Alpha reduced to this—broken and weak and completely undone?
Instead, he felt her kneel beside him, felt her arms wrap around his shaking shoulders. Through the bond came a flood of her strength, her understanding, her unwavering presence, and underneath it all, something that felt suspiciously like love.
“I may not have all the answers or know how to fix you,” she said softly, her breath warm against his ear. “But I’m willing to stand by your side and try. Try to help you heal, try to help you find joy again, try to help you lead your clan—if you’ll let me.”
He looked up at her through tear-blurred vision, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. “I never wanted to ignore you or sideline you. I just thought you wouldn’t be able to handle my world. Or me.”
“I may not know exactly how to yet, but I want to try,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “Damon, you can’t just make me sit on the sidelines. You have to trust me enough to know I’m capable of navigating this world and helping you heal. Commit to me, to healing, to growing together.”
“Isla, I want to more than anything,” he whispered.
Her smile was radiant as she pressed her lips to his—a kiss that tasted like hope and promise and second chances.
TWENTY-FIVE
ISLA
