Chapter 5

ELARA POV:

I was still standing there, trembling in shock, when Kaelen's voice, raw with panic, drifted back from the restaurant entrance. He was yelling at Lyra, but his words were for me.

"Her life will never be as important as yours!"

The world tilted. I saw them both turn and see me standing there, my face a mask of horror. The pain in my legs, the agony in my soul-it all crashed down on me at once. My knees buckled, and the world went black.

I woke up on a cot in the Pack Healer's clinic. The sharp, clean scent of medicinal herbs filled the air. Kaelen was by my side, his face pale with a frantic, guilty energy.

"She's my Luna," he was telling the Healer, an old, wise she-wolf named Morwen. "She's four months pregnant with my heir."

Morwen's gaze was sharp as she tended to my burns. When she gently palpated my abdomen, her brow furrowed. She glanced at me, a question in her eyes. The life-force was too weak, my stomach too flat. She knew.

I sent her a faint, private mind-link. "Please. I want to be the one to tell him."

She gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.

The healing process for werewolves is fast, but that doesn't make it painless. To avoid any risk to the "pup," Morwen didn't use any numbing herbs. She cleaned the burns with a silver-infused salve that felt like fire being painted onto my skin. I bit my lip until it bled, refusing to make a sound as tears streamed down my face.

Later, Kaelen sat by my bed, his hand hovering over mine. "I'm sorry, Elara. I just... reacted."

"You shifted so fast," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "To protect her."

His face tightened. He had no answer for that.

That night, I woke to the sound of hushed voices. Lyra was there, her scent of lavender filling the small room.

"Your hand is burned too, Kaelen," she was saying, her voice soft with concern. "You need to let Morwen look at it."

"It's nothing," he grumbled, but his tone was filled with a boyish pleasure at her attention. "As long as you're okay."

He let her lead him away to have his own minor injury treated, completely besotted.

Lyra returned a few minutes later and looked at me, her expression a mixture of guilt and curiosity. "Did you... did you hear what he said? Before you fainted?"

I met her gaze, my own eyes clear and empty. "I didn't hear a thing," I lied. "I must have already been losing consciousness from the pain."

She looked relieved.

I was learning. I was learning to build my walls, to wear my mask, to play their game. My time was coming. I just had to be patient.

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