Page 69 of The Alpha Wolf’s Secret Baby Boy

Damian is at the center, speaking to Sister Aoife, and when he turns to me, his expression looks pained.

Great!

First, the whole council is here to witness this. And second, Damian looks like he’s having doubts.

He gulps hard and searches my face for something I don’t yet understand, and Sister Aoife brushes past him on her way toward me.

“Luna Poppy,” she addresses me with a title that hasn’t had the breathing space to settle in. “We are ready to remove the poisoned magic from you.”

The smell of chamomile and other herbs scorches my airways, and it takes everything in me not to lash out at her or lose control.

She cannot be trusted… the dark voices in my head purr, but my skin crawls with the familiar sensation of the mate bond, and I cling to that feeling instead, knowing Damian is close by, as if he’s some kind of safety net, a grounding presence that keeps me steady enough not to succumb to the voices.

She is the enemy…

My lips are tight as I meet her auburn eyes and nod just as Damian joins us.

“May I have a moment alone with Poppy?” he asks Aoife, and she nods as she steps aside.

That’s when Damian takes my hand, and a rush of calmness washes over me as he moves me away from the guards.

When we’re just a few feet away, but out of earshot, Damian turns to me, worry etched in his brows.

“The ritual,” he begins, pausing to gulp, “has a bit of a risk.”

I frown, feeling the weight of the cuffs on my wrists getting harsher. “What risk?”

Damian glances over his shoulder at the group gathered and speaking to each other in hushed tones before he turns back to me and sighs. He reaches out for my hands that I’ve been absentmindedly wringing, taking one and stroking my knuckles.

His touch is soothing, and my heart lurches with regret, and something else.

Something buried so deep in my soul, it almost feels like a cruel, twisted joke from the universe that I’d only feel this way again after being poisoned by witches.

Why can I feel that he’s my fated mate now?

I’d felt it before—when I loved him—but I had turned those feelings off to protect myself.

And even after I nearly attacked him again yesterday, Damian remains the only thing that keeps me grounded. His presence. His touch. His mere proximity quiets my mind.

He doesn’t even seem to care about what happened…

“Aoife has explained that this ritual will remove the corrupted magic that’s been turning you rabid,” he says. “But it’ll only work if you don’t resist it.”

I take a deep breath as the voices in my mind rear their ugly heads, and I hang on to Damian’s warm blue gaze, imagining the ocean and the calm it brings.

“What happens if I resist?” I ask in a timid whisper, and Damian touches my cheek.

I have the sudden urge to close my eyes and nuzzle into the warmth of his palm, but his gaze remains wary.

“You might not survive,” he finally says, and my heart skips a beat, the better part of my mind projecting images of Daniel as if to remind me why I need to do this.

“I don’t care,” I say firmly. “I want to go through with it. If it’s the only way—”

“Poppy, you’re not listening to me. If this doesn’t work, you’ll die. I know we haven’t really talked about what happens when you come out of this, but I can’t afford to lose you. Not again. Daniel needs you, and regardless of what happened, I need you, too.”

Damian shakes his head, and that’s when I reach up with shackled hands and touch his face. “Then don’t let me die.”

I remove my hand from his face and turn to the witches, who have already started a fire in a trench and formed a circle around it.