Ava
A deep throbbing gnaws beneath my shoulder blade, even with my back propped against the cushions on John's slightly sagging couch. The crackle of the fireplace soothes me a little, but my thoughts churn with everything John's just laid out. Nearby, Caleb paces—an Alpha in restless motion—yet there's a tender worry in his storm-blue eyes that makes him look almost boyish.
John stands by his cluttered table, arms folded, gaze darting between us.
"Ava, Caleb," he begins, voice heavy with resignation. "I hate to bring more bad news, but… if Lucas has marked another she-wolf without fully accepting your rejection, he could be siphoning her life energy." My heart lurches, and the mark on my shoulder twinges with fresh pain. Caleb's pacing stops abruptly, tension rippling through him.
"He'd be draining her?" he asks through clenched teeth. "Even if he doesn't realize it?" John nods.
"An Alpha's bond can be destructive when it's tangled up with a second bond while still clinging to a rejection. It can pull on the other woman's spirit. the rejection is draining him, but if he formed a new bond with another it would empower him but its corrupted." A grim sense of doom knots in my stomach. It's one thing for Lucas still clinging to me despite the rejection, but now another life might be caught in the crossfire. Still, something in John's words nags at me.
"Wait," I say, looking from John to Caleb.
"Lucas never actually marked me. We were fated, but I… I rejected him before it got that far. We also never..." John's eyes widen, and he drags a hand down his face.
"I see. I assumed…" He exhales a slow breath, voice softening. "I'm sorry, Ava. I just figured with you two being fated, the mark would've happened quickly. The fact he never marked you might actually work in our favor."
"How?" Caleb demands, glancing at me anxiously. "If they were still bonded through fate—just not physically—what difference does it make?" John shifts his weight, nodding to himself.
"A fated connection is powerful, but a physical mark cements it on a whole different level. Since Lucas didn't mark you, the bond might be more easily severed. We're dealing with a half-complete fate bond, not a fully formed mate mark that's gone sour. That could give us an advantage when we do the ritual." Relief washes through me.
"I guess that's a silver lining," I murmur. John nods.
"It is. At least you don't have to fight through the scars of a physical mark from Lucas on top of everything else. Still, if he's marked someone else, that's going to complicate our ritual." Caleb exhales, raking a hand through his hair.
"Then we do whatever's necessary." John offers a sympathetic shrug.
"I wish I had all the ingredients here, but I don't. Some of the herbs and certain crystals needed are extremely hard to come by. I'll have to travel to find them. Two days—maybe three, tops." Without hesitation, Caleb digs out his wallet and presses a wad of bills into John's hand.
"Take my car. This should be enough for supplies. If not, call me." Gratitude and worry flicker across John's features.
"Thank you. I'll leave first thing tomorrow. Meanwhile…" He glances at my shoulder with genuine concern. "Stay here. Keep Ava resting, hidden away from everyone, ava is right, a infected mate mark is seen as a bad sign. Mates help each other heal," he adds gently. "Focus on that. The stronger your bond, the better chance you have when we do the ritual." I manage a small smile, touched by his kindness.
"We appreciate it, John." He disappears briefly, then returns with a pouch of herbs, a dark flask, and a small jar of paste.
"You'll need to drink this tea every six hours," he instructs, handing me the herbs and tincture. "Steep a pinch of the herbs in hot water, then add two drops of the tincture. It won't solve the real problem, but it'll dull the pain and reduce swelling until I'm back. "This," he continues, holding up the paste, "goes directly on your mark every four hours. It'll help soothe the inflammation also and keep any infection at bay." I take the paste from him, wincing as another throb radiates under my skin.
"Thank you," I say quietly. John nods, stepping away.
"I'll pack up for the trip. Let me know if you need anything else before I head out."
Once John retreats, Caleb moves to the kitchen. I watch him from the couch, exhaustion weighing on me like a heavy blanket. It's almost endearing, seeing the Alpha of the Darkmoon Pack—who commands warriors and negotiates alliances—now meticulously setting alarms on his phone with a determined look on his face. He glances over at me.
"Tea at midnight," he mumbles, tapping at his screen. "Paste at ten, then again at two in the morning…" A soft smile curves my lips.
"You're really on top of this," I tease gently. Caleb's cheeks color faintly.
"I just… I want to get this right." He exhales, closing his phone. "John said mates help each other heal. I'm taking that seriously." Warmth unfurls in my chest. Maybe he's not used to this, but he's trying so hard.
"It means a lot," I say. He disappears into the kitchen, measuring out the herbs. A few minutes later, he hands me a steaming mug, and the pungent scent of the brew curls into my nostrils.
"Here," he says. "Try to sip it slowly." The bitterness makes me scrunch my nose, but I manage a polite sip.
"Mm. Definitely strong."
"Too strong?" Concern clouds his gaze. "I can add honey if—"
"It's okay," I cut in with a tired smile. "Really. It's helping already." He offers a relieved nod, then glances at the jar of paste on the table.
"It's almost time for that, too," he says, checking his phone again. By the time evening shadows lengthen, the tea's had some effect, dulling the worst of my throbbing. With a gentle touch, Caleb helps me up the narrow stairs to John's guest room—a cozy space with a single window facing the moonlit sky. The bed creaks when I settle against the pillows, and a sigh slips from my lips as I finally rest.
"You need anything else?" Caleb asks, placing the paste jar on the bedside table. His phone buzzes—an alarm reminding him it's time to apply another coat. I can't help a small laugh.
"You're very punctual with this." He shrugs, grabbing a soft cloth.
"Better safe than sorry." Carefully, he scoops some paste onto his fingers. "Let me know if it hurts," he says, voice tight with concern. I brace myself as he gently smooths the paste over the inflamed mark. The cool sensation stings at first, then ebbs into a mild, comforting tingle. I exhale in relief.
"That's… better," I admit, blinking against the haze of exhaustion. Caleb offers me a faint smile, a look of intense focus still etched on his face.
"Good," he murmurs. He sets the jar aside, checking his phone once more. "I'll reset the alarm for the next application in four hours." I tilt my head at him, affection stirring in my chest.
"You're hovering," I tease softly. His cheeks redden a bit. "John said mates help each other heal. I'm just… following instructions."
I reach out, tugging him closer.
"I like you hovering," I admit. "Come sit with me?" With a hint of uncertainty, he settles on the edge of the bed. I guide his arm around my waist, nestling against his chest. For a moment, he's stiff, clearly worried about jostling my shoulder, but then he relaxes into me. The warmth of his body fills the quiet space, and my eyelids flutter as I lean my head against his collarbone.
We sit like that for a while, just breathing in sync. The subtle scent of him—something wild and familiar—calms the swirl of anxious thoughts in my mind. Eventually, he murmurs,
"Do you think John needs to know about… you?" He doesn't say 'hyena,' but I know what he means.
I let out a slow breath.
"If he finds out, it might change how he does the ritual. Or maybe it won't. But I don't want him to doubt me—or us—if he has prejudices." Caleb's hold on me tightens in silent reassurance.
"We'll wait," he decides. "If it becomes necessary, we'll tell him. We'll deal with it."
"Okay," I nod, a knot of gratitude unfurling in my chest. "Thank you." He shifts, carefully pulling the blanket over me.
"Time to rest. I'll set my alarm for the next tea dose." My heart warms at his tenderness.
"Such a good caretaker," I tease lightly, closing my eyes.
"Not sure about that," he whispers, but I catch the ghost of a smile in his voice. "Go to sleep. I'm here." The bed creaks as he settles closer, arms looped around me in a careful embrace. My shoulder aches, but nowhere near as fiercely. The hum of the house and the distant crackle of the fireplace downstairs lull me toward slumber. Just before I drift off, I feel him press a gentle kiss to my temple.
"I've got you," he murmurs, and the simple words flood me with a sense of safety I haven't felt in weeks. John's voice echoes in my mind—Mates help each other heal. And so we do, with each passing hour and each tender touch, weathering the storm until John returns with everything we need to break the shadow of Lucas's bond for good.