“Dominic, that’s?—”
“I don’t care,” he growled. “He needs grounding.”
He placed the fang against the boy’s chest and murmured something in a low rumble that wasn’t quite words. It wasn’t a spell in the traditional sense—it wasprimal.The language of lions, of old protectors, of the wild magic that had birthed the pride long before shifters ever walked on two legs.
The boy jerked—and then stilled again, this time for good.
His breathing evened.
The cursed markings faded to nothing more than ghostly scars.
And silence fell across the square.
Lillith let her hands drop. Her shoulders slumped. She didn’t even realize she was shaking until Dominic reached out and caught her elbow.
“You okay?” he asked, voice softer now, the fight draining from him too.
She didn’t answer. Just looked down at the boy, then back at Dominic, then nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I think we did it.”
“Yeah,” he rasped. “We pulled him back.”
Together.
It hadn’t been some carefully crafted ritual or a pre-planned incantation that had saved the kid. It had been instinct—theirinstinct. A split-second surge of Lillith’s magic, twisted and bent to the rhythm of Dominic’s heartbeat, echoing through the bond like a song only the two of them could hear.
She’d used his strength. His steadiness.
And he’d used her light.
The realization hit her with the weight of a storm.They were better together.
Dominic reached down, brushing a damp curl from the boy’s forehead, his fingers trembling slightly. Not from fear—Dominic Kane didn’t fear. But from the aftershock of brushing so close to death. Again.
“We need to get him to Markus and Rowan,” she said. “They’ll know how to stabilize him.”
He nodded again, already scooping the boy up into his arms like he weighed nothing. The muscle in his jaw ticked.
“Stay close.”
“As if I have a choice,” she muttered, but the words held no heat.
They made it to Markus and Rowan’s in record time, Lillith clearing a space on the old velvet couch while Dominic laid the boy down. Rowan was already on his feet with healing salves, and Markus started chanting a stabilization ward. Dominic’s shirt was soaked with the boy’s sweat and shadow-ash. He didn’t seem to care.
“You’re both insane,” Rowan said, wiping his hands on a cloth. “But it worked.”
Lillith sank into a chair, arms trembling, stomach in knots. Her magic had been scorched raw. Her emotions are not far behind.
Rowan shot her a glance. “And you,” he said, voice softer now, “you need to stop running from what you already have.”
Her throat tightened. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.
Later, when the boy was resting, breathing evenly, and Rowan had ushered them into the spare room to rest, Lillith sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her hands.
They were still faintly glowing.
“You okay?” Dominic asked from the doorway, his voice low, cautious.
