Chapter 2 PROMISES UNDER MOONLIGHT

Lyra's POV

Sleep wouldn't come. I tossed and turned, counting sheep that kept turning into wolves with silver eyes. The moonstone pendant lay on my nightstand, catching moonbeams and throwing them back twisted. I couldn't wear it to bed. Every time I tried, my skin burned cold.

A soft thud on my balcony made me sit up. Then came the knock. Three taps, pause, two taps. Our secret code from when we first started meeting in secret.

"Damon?" I whispered, opening the glass doors.

He stood there looking guilty and perfect, moonlight turning his black hair silver. "I know I shouldn't be here."

"Then why are you?" But I was already stepping aside to let him in.

"My wolf." He pulled me against him the second the door closed. "He won't let me stay away. It's like he knows we only have two more nights like this."

"Two more nights of sneaking around like teenagers?" I tried to joke, but my voice shook.

"Two more nights before you're mine in every way that matters." His hands framed my face. "Let me stay. Please. I need you."

I should have said no. Should have sent him home to preserve tradition and protect my reputation. Instead, I kissed him like the world was ending. Maybe it was. My world as Lyra Nightshade was certainly about to end. Soon I'd be Lyra Blackthorne.

We fell into bed together, desperate and clumsy with need. His hands knew exactly where to touch, how to make me gasp his name like a prayer. But something was wrong. My phoenix fire, which usually danced between us during moments like this, barely flickered. Tiny sparks instead of flames.

"Your magic," Damon noticed, pulling back to study me. "It's different tonight."

"It's just tired. I've been glowing like a lantern all day." I pulled him back down. "Don't stop. Please."

He didn't stop. But I felt him watching me, cataloging every response like he was memorizing me. When we finally lay still, tangled in sheets and each other, my magic gave one last weak pulse and went quiet.

"That's never happened before," I admitted.

"Pre-ceremony nerves." His fingers traced lazy circles on my bare shoulder. "Magic is tied to emotions. You're probably just overwhelmed."

"Maybe." But doubt gnawed at me. My magic had never failed me before. Not once in twenty-three years.

"Tell me about your grandmother's grimoire," Damon said suddenly.

The change of subject made me blink. "What about it?"

"I've been thinking about our mating bond. I want it to be the strongest it can be." His hand moved to rest over my heart. "Are there rituals in her books? Old magic that could bind us deeper than a normal mating?"

"Why would we need that? The mate bond is already unbreakable."

"I know. But your magic makes you special. What if there's a way to share it? To make sure nothing can ever come between us?"

Something about his intensity made me nervous. But this was Damon. My Damon. He was just being protective, like always.

"There might be something," I said slowly. "Grandmother wrote about a Phoenix's Blessing ritual. It lets a phoenix witch share her power with her bonded mate. But Damon, it's dangerous. No one's attempted it in generations."

His heartbeat quickened under my palm. "Tell me more."

"There's not much to tell. The ritual creates a bridge between souls. The phoenix magic flows through both partners equally." I snuggled closer, suddenly cold. "But Grandmother wrote warnings all around it. Said it could kill both people if done wrong."

"We won't do it wrong." His voice was certain. Final. "After the mating ceremony, when our bond is fresh and strong, we'll try it. Imagine, Lyra. Your fire burning in both of us. Nothing could stop us."

"I don't know..."

"Think about it." He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my lips. "That's all I ask. Just think about it."

A floorboard creaked in the hallway. We both froze.

"Someone's out there," I whispered.

Footsteps. Soft ones, trying not to be heard. They paused outside my door, and I held my breath. The doorknob started to turn.

"I have to go." Damon was already pulling on his clothes, moving with wolf speed. "If your parents find me here..."

"Go," I agreed, grabbing my robe.

He kissed me hard, possessive. "Remember what I said about the ritual. We're meant to share everything, Lyra. Even your fire."

Then he was gone, vaulting over the balcony railing with inhuman grace. The footsteps in the hall retreated, and I caught a glimpse of silver hair disappearing around the corner. Selene. Of course it was Selene.

I closed the balcony doors and turned back to my room. That's when I saw them. Deep gouges in the wooden windowsill, fresh splinters scattered on the floor. Claw marks. Four parallel lines where something had gripped too tight.

My blood went cold as I measured them with my hand. They matched perfectly. The size, the spacing, the depth. These were the marks of Damon's claws when he was partially shifted. But when had he... I hadn't seen him touch the windowsill. Had I?

I sat on my bed, staring at those marks until my eyes burned. Tomorrow was supposed to be about choosing flowers and finalizing guest lists. Tomorrow I was supposed to be a happy bride counting down to her perfect day.

So why did those claw marks feel like a warning?