~Lyra (Selene)
The infirmary's stone walls close in around me, the air heavy with the scent of crushed herbs and the faint, unsettling tang of the strange mark that felled the warrior last night. I'm confined here, Darius's broad frame a silent sentinel at the door, his amber eyes watchful yet distant. I am Selene, the rogue healer, a mask over the broken omega Lyra who vanished into the Frostfang Mountains after a rejection that still scars my soul. Beneath the ash-and-wildflower disguise, my magic crafts, my true scent—cedar and honey—pulses, a secret I guard with every breath. My silver eyes, hidden beneath lowered lashes, flicker with the power I wield, a gift that mends but also threatens to expose me. The warrior I tended earlier stirs on his cot, his breathing steadier now, but the effort drained me, leaving my hands trembling and my heart racing with the memory of Killian's gaze—emerald and gold, softening in a way that confuses and unnerves me.
I moved to the table, sorting my herbs—sage, lavender, and a rare root I scavenged from the grove—my fingers brushing the worn leather pouch as I prepared for the trial Killian had ordered. His voice from last night echoes in my mind, low and commanding yet laced with something tender: Heal him, if you can. The mate bond, a wildfire I can't quench, flares at the thought of him, pulling me toward the alpha who cast me out. My wolf whines, her longing a betrayal of my vengeance, and I clench my fists, the scar on my cheek a burning reminder of that night. But his softened gaze, the way his eyes lingered on me, stirs a hope I dare not name, a love buried beneath layers of pain.
The door creaks open, and Killian enters, his huge frame filling the space, his muscular build tense with the weight of leadership. His emerald eyes glow with a mix of suspicion and something deeper—desire, perhaps—and my breath catches, the bond igniting between us. "Selene," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine, "the pack's waiting. A new warrior has been struck by that same mark. Heal him, and prove your worth." He steps closer, his scent—smoke and pine—enveloping me, and my wolf surges, urging me to close the distance.
I nodded, my voice steady despite the tumult within. "I'll do what I can, Alpha." They brought in the warrior, a young scout with pale skin and a pulsing mark on his arm, his breaths shallow and laboured. I kneel beside him, my hands hovering over the wound, the air humming with the warmth of my power. "Hold still," I murmur, channelling the energy through my fingers, a faint glow seeping out despite my efforts to conceal it. The mark fades, the scout's colour returns, and he gasps, sitting up. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice weak but grateful.
The room holds its breath, the pack's murmurs a mix of awe and fear, and Killian's gaze softens further, his gold-flecked eyes locking with mine. "You did it," he says, his tone warm, almost intimate, and my heart stumbles, the bond pulling tighter. "How?" he asks, stepping closer, his hand brushing mine as he helps me rise, sending a jolt through me. "That's no ordinary skill." His touch lingers, his thumb tracing my knuckles, and I pull back, my magic trembling, my cheeks flushing. "It's… training," I stammer, the lie thin. "From my travels."
He studies me, his expression a blend of admiration and doubt, and the air crackles with unspoken emotion. "There's more to you, Selene," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I feel it—something that calls to me, something I can't ignore." My wolf howls, desperate to yield, and I step back, my heart racing. "You don't know me," I say, my voice breaking, "not enough to feel that." But his gaze holds mine, a promise of something deeper, and I wonder if he senses the Lyra beneath my mask.
The moment shatters as Mara enters, her golden hair gleaming, her blue eyes narrowed with malice. "Enough of this!" she snaps, her voice cutting through the tension.
"This is no healing—it's trickery! Killian, she's bewitched you with those glowing hands. The pack won't stand for it!" Her jasmine scent is overpowering, and she glares at me, her presence a threat I can't ignore. "She's a danger," Mara continues, stepping between us. "Those marks—they started with her arrival. Send her away before it's too late!"
Killian's jaw tightens, his hand still warm from mine, and he turns to her. "She saved him, Mara," he says, his tone firm but laced with frustration. "Accuse her with proof, not jealousy." Mara laughs, a sharp, brittle sound. "Jealousy? I'm protecting you, protecting us! Her power's unnatural—can't you see it?" She gestures to the scout, now recovering, but her words stir the pack's unease. "Test her again," an elder calls, his voice gruff. "We need certainty."
I meet Killian's gaze, my heart pounding, the bond a lifeline amid the storm. "I'll face any test," I say, my voice steady despite the fear. "But I'm no threat." He nods, his eyes softening again, and the room murmurs, the tension thickening. "Then we'll watch," he says, his voice a promise. "Darius, stay with her. Mara, enough—let her prove herself." Mara's lips thin, her glare promising retribution, and she storms out, her departure a silent vow of revenge.
Alone with Darius, I tend the scout, my mind racing. Killian's softened gaze, his touch, haunts me, an echo of the love we once shared. But the scar on my cheek, the pain of his rejection, holds me back, and I wonder if he sees the Lyra beneath my disguise. The door opens again, and Killian returns, his presence a magnet. "Selene," he says, his voice low, "you did well. But those marks—they worry me. Tell me more about your past." His hand hovers near mine, the air between us charged with longing.
"I've roamed," I say, evading, my voice soft. "Learned from those who survived the wilds." He steps closer, his scent enveloping me, and my wolf whines, urging me to confess. "There's a strength in you," he murmurs, his hand brushing my arm, sending a shiver through me. "A beauty I can't look away from. I want to know you, Selene—truly know you." His words are a caress, and my resolve wavers, the mate bond a fire I can't douse.
"Killian," I breathe, his name a surrender, and he leans in, his lips near mine, the world narrowing to us. "I see you," he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. "Not just the healer, but… more." My heart races, my magic flickering, and I pull back, tears stinging my eyes. "You can't," I say, my voice breaking. "Not yet." He nods, pain flashing in his gaze, and steps away, the distance a wound.
The night deepens, and I prepare more herbs, my mind a battlefield of love and vengeance. A shadow moves outside, and my heart skips—Mara, her figure darting toward the herb stores. Suspense coils within me, and I slip to the window, watching as she pilfers my pouch, her movements swift and deliberate. "She's framing me," I whisper, my magic flaring, the threat palpable. The scout stirs, and I return to him, my mind racing. Mara's plot thickens, and Killian's trust hangs in the balance, the romance between us a fragile thread amid the growing danger.