Never ownED myself

falling for you

What you hide in the shadows will eventually come to light.
http://Riyabhorkar.com

Wolf realm
Damon glimpse into his past.
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Seeing the Wolf King unsteady in the council room was enough to halt Damon's need to run to his wife.

The council chamber emptied behind them, Davon had been the first to leave. Leaving his father behind. Voices faded into stone and distance, but Damon remained where he was, eyes fixed on the slight tremor in the king's hand. Others noticed it too, but they hesitated. Damon did not.

He crossed the space quickly, catching the king's arm before it faltered further. The contact was careful, practiced, as if he had done this before.

The king blinked, surprised, then exhaled through a tired smile.
"Easy," Damon said, already turning them toward the corridor.

He did not call for guards. He did not raise his voice. He simply adjusted his pace to match the king's, placing himself half a step behind, half a step beside, but close enough to support, never enough to presume.

They walked like that to the bedchamber.

Inside, Damon moved without instruction. He pulled the covers back, guided the king to sit, then lifted the blanket and tucked it neatly beneath his chin. The gesture was precise, reverent. He lingered only long enough to smooth a crease from the fabric before stepping back and lowering himself to one knee.

"My lord," Damon said, head bowed. "Is there anything more you require? Shall I call one of the guard?"

The king studied him for a moment, eyes sharp despite the lines carved by age.

"Enough with the formalities," he said gently. "There is no one here."
Damon did not rise immediately.
"You have done enough to entertain an old man," the king continued, his voice thinning into something dry and resigned. "This is not how I imagined my later years. Who knew that I would end alone in a room, waiting for others to finish saving the world."

Damon's jaw tightened.
"You mean Davon has not been attending you," he said, careful to keep his tone even.

The king sighed. "He is busy. Experiments. Bloodlines. Power. He believes magic is thinning, that soon we will resemble the humans you once described to me."

Damon's hands curled briefly against his knee.
"That is no excuse," he said. "He neglects his duties."

There was a pause.
"Just as you do," the king replied softly. "To your wife."
The words landed, not as accusation, but as observation.

Damon lifted his head.

"Duties above all," the king went on, his gaze steady. "Now go. She has waited long enough."

For the first time, Damon smiled without restraint. It spread across his face, sudden and unguarded, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest.
"Thank you, my lord," he said. "For sending me to her."

"Don't you ever change who you are," the king replied. "Now Go."

Damon stood, bowed once more and left the room with a lighter step than when he had entered.

Walking took too much time for his wolf, sending him on edge. When Damon finally made it out of the castle, his wolf took over and ran toward their house.

Sitting in one of the books Damon had bought on one of his travels, Isabella was reading to Annie, who was loved in her arms. Al's pace slowed as they both gazed in fascination at their beloved. Isabella's chocolate brown hair cascaded down the top of Annie's head. Hers was auburn with a golden tint in the light. Isabella's voice embodied the character's reactions that brought him to her world.