Chapter 6 Whispers in the Blood

The morning after the storm in the forbidden wing, the mansion felt different—too quiet, too tense, as though the walls themselves held their breath.

Selena hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Damian pacing behind the glass, muscles strained, eyes burning like blue fire. The sound of his growl haunted her, low and guttural, something that didn’t belong in a man’s throat.

She found him in the dining room, surrounded by untouched food and silence. He sat at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, gaze fixed on the tablet in his hand. His expression was carved from marble—cold, unyielding.

Selena stepped closer. “About last night—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted without looking up. His tone could have frozen flames.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her robe. “You warned me not to come near that room. But you never said why.”

His eyes flicked up, sharp as glass. “You don’t need to know.”

“I think I do.” She took another step, heart hammering. “You dragged me here, made me your contract bride, locked me in a house that growls at night—and you think I don’t deserve to know why?”

For a moment, Damian said nothing. Then his jaw flexed, and he set the tablet down. “You’re alive because I chose not to let you die. Don’t mistake that for kindness.”

Selena’s throat tightened, but she refused to back down. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

His eyes darkened. “You should be.”

Silence stretched between them, charged and heavy. Then Damian pushed back from the table and walked away, leaving her staring after him, pulse thrumming with something between fear and fury.

The staff avoided her that day, whispering in hushed tones when they thought she couldn’t hear. But her hearing, sharp as it was, caught fragments.

“…every full moon…”

“…the master loses himself…”

“…they say the curse started with blood…”

Blood. Always blood.

By noon, curiosity clawed at her harder than caution. When she found Damian’s study door unlocked, she slipped inside.

The room was vast and immaculate—dark wood, cold steel, everything in precise order except for the papers scattered across his desk. She moved closer, eyes catching faded parchment beneath the newer reports.

Old documents, handwritten, the ink smudged by time. She read the words aloud in a whisper:

“Project Moonline—subject inheritance, lunar resonance, hybrid stabilization.”

Her stomach dropped. She flipped another page—sketches of symbols, diagrams of human and wolf anatomy intertwined. In the corner of one file was an emblem: a crescent moon woven through a serpent.

She froze. That same emblem was etched into her mother’s old pendant—the one she’d worn since childhood.

Her pulse roared in her ears. What was this doing in Damian’s files?

A shadow fell across the papers.

“What are you doing?”

She spun around. Damian stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable—but his eyes burned with something far more dangerous than anger.

“I—I was just—”

“Reading what you shouldn’t.” He crossed the room in two strides. She stumbled back, clutching the pendant at her throat instinctively.

Damian’s gaze followed the motion—and his eyes narrowed. “That pendant.”

Selena’s breath hitched. “What about it?”

“Where did you get it?” His voice was sharp, low, almost trembling with restraint.

“My mother gave it to me,” she said carefully. “Why?”

He reached out, fingers brushing the air near her chest but not touching. “That symbol belongs to a bloodline that shouldn’t exist anymore.”

Selena frowned, heart racing. “What do you mean—?”

He cut her off, stepping closer until she could feel the heat rolling off him. “Answer me. Who was your mother?”

Selena’s voice wavered. “You’re scaring me.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll finally tell the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” she snapped, anger flaring through the fear. “She died when I was a child! That’s all I know!”

Damian’s control slipped. His hand slammed down on the desk beside her, making the papers jump. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, because it’s the truth!”

For a heartbeat, they stood inches apart—her breathing ragged, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm too fast, too uneven. Then she saw it: his eyes flickered, the blue deepening, irises edged with silver light.

“Damian…”

He staggered back, fingers gripping the desk as if to keep himself grounded. His teeth clenched—and for a flash, his fangs caught the light.

Selena’s blood went cold. “You’re changing.”

He turned away sharply, one hand pressed against his mouth. “Get out.”

“No.”

His head snapped toward her, eyes wild. “I said—”

“Not until you tell me what’s happening!”

“Stop pushing me!” he roared, voice roughened by something inhuman. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for!”

“Then make me understand!”

His body trembled; veins stood out along his neck. For a terrifying second, she thought he might truly lose control. Then, with a strangled growl, he slammed his fist into the desk. The sound cracked through the room like thunder.

“Your blood shouldn’t exist,” he hissed.

Selena froze, the words sinking deep. “What did you just say?”

He turned away again, shoulders heaving. “You heard me.”

“What does that mean? What’s wrong with my blood?”

Damian’s voice dropped to a whisper, raw and shaking. “It’s not wrong. It’s… ancient. Dangerous. The kind of blood that cursed this house in the first place.”

Selena’s skin prickled. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“I wish I were.” He faced her again, eyes dim now, full of something she’d never seen in him before—fear. “You shouldn’t be alive, Selena Frost.”

Her throat tightened. “And yet here I am.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, a bitter shadow of a smile. “That’s what terrifies me.”

They stared at each other for a long, breathless moment, the air between them heavy with everything unsaid.

Then Damian straightened, the mask sliding back into place. “Stay out of my study. And stay away from me.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because if you don’t,” he said quietly, “I won’t be able to protect you—from what’s coming.”

He left before she could speak again, the door slamming shut behind him.

Selena stood there, heart pounding, the echo of his words settling over her like frost. She looked down at the papers still scattered on the desk. Her hand trembled as she touched the emblem again—the serpent coiled around the crescent moon.

A memory stirred in the back of her mind. Her mother’s voice, soft and distant. “The moon remembers its children, even the ones who walk in shadow.”

Her gaze lifted toward the door Damian had just stormed through.

Whatever secrets he was hiding, whatever truth was buried in her blood—she wasn’t going to stop until she found it.

But as she turned to leave, something caught her attention. A drop of blood—his—on the edge of the desk, still fresh.

It pulsed faintly in the light, silver instead of red.

And the moment she saw it, the pendant at her throat began to glow.