Lyra
Month later
You know how people always say life flashes before your eyes when you almost die? Yeah, that’ş bullshit. When I almost died from child birth all saw was Damon’s face.
But now, months later, here l am – alive, older, still dramatic, still running my mouth more than I should, but breathing. And so are my pups. All four of them. My miracle included.
And because Damon Thornvale doesn’t know how to do anything halfway, he didn’t just stop at keeping me alive and making me a mother of four at eighteen. No, of course not. He had to marry me.
. Oh yes. We had a wedding. Not a huge, sparkly, fairy-tale wedding like normal girls dream of, but a Thornvale wedding – small, dangerous, full of powerful people in dark suits, and every single one of them looking at me like I had just been placed on a throne I didn’t ask for.
Damon put me in white, walked me down an aisle lit with candles, and when he slid that ring on my finger, I swear my knees almost buckled because it wasn’t just a ring, it was a chain. A chain I wanted and official made me his Luna.
I tell myself I’m too young for this, that I should be free and wild and figuring out who I am. But then I look at Damon holding the babies, his scarred hands so gentle, his wolf always prowling behind his eyes, and I know who l am. I’m his. Always his.
Tonight, the pups are finally asleep. Four little miracles breathing evenly in their cribs, tiny fists curling and uncurling like they’re already training to fight the world. I should be asleep too. My body is still a wreck most days, my hips ache, my chest feels like it’s been torn open permanently, and I’m exhausted.Chapter 264: Come To Daddy
But Damon is standing at the foot of the bed.
“Hey, kitten.”
That voice. I should have ignored it, should have rolled over and forced myself to sleep, but of course I looked up, because I’m weak like that, and that’s when I saw it.
Tattoos.
I blinked. My mouth actually fell open. Damon Thornvale, my obsessive Alpha, my terrifying husband, my monster had tattoos now. Dark, twisting lines etched over his chest and arms, sliding around scars, making him look even more dangerous, even more untouchable, even more… mine.
“Oh my God,” I whispered before I could stop myself, my brain short-circuiting. “You actually got tattoos. I thought you were joking when you said it” My eyes kept moving, tracing every curve, every inked shadow, and my mouth wouldn’t shut up.
“I swear to the Goddess, Damon, you were already too much, like way too much, and now you’re just. just unfair! Who told you to do this?


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