His mate, my Doom

Corrigan's pov

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," a voice whispered as my eyes fluttered open. My head throbbed, and my vision was still blurry. "You slept for way too long."

I tried to raise my head, but the voice gently urged me to stay put. It belonged to an old woman with wrinkles etched deeply into her skin, each line telling tales of the years she had lived.

"Who are you?" I managed to croak, my voice barely audible.

The old woman chuckled softly. "I'm the healer of these woods, child. The one who tends to lose souls like yours."

My head was pounding with questions, but she gently hushed me. "Rest now. We'll talk soon."

As she shuffled away, I tried to focus on my surroundings. The small, dimly lit hut was filled with dried herbs, hanging from the ceiling, and strange-looking potions lining the wooden shelves. A strong aroma of various herbs and spices filled the air.

"Danger" my wolf kept saying

"But she looks harmless"

"Danger"

"Stop talking and let me think, I have a lot on my mind, I would go crazy if you spoke again."

She didn't say a word again, I could feel her retreat.

My mind raced back to the events of the previous day. Dante's face, lifeless and still, haunted me. He had been a pain, but I never wanted him dead. I realized that maybe, deep down, I had loved him.

The old woman returned with a bowl of hot soup. "You're lucky to be alive," she said, her voice soothing. "You were found in the middle of the forest, wounded. You had hit your head on a rock, and you lost a lot of blood."

She handed me the bowl, and I took a cautious sip. The warmth spread through my body, and I suddenly became aware of how cold it was in the hut.

"Where am I?" I asked once more, my voice steadier.

The old healer smiled kindly. "You're in my humble abode, deep within the forest. You were brought here by some good samaritans who found you. They told me they discovered you wounded in the woods. They brought you here as quickly as they could."

The mention of the good samaritans brought back hazy memories of their voices, talking and comforting me as I faded into unconsciousness.

My thoughts drifted back to Dante, to the night he took his last breath. His lifeless body appeared before my eyes, an image I couldn't bear.

The old healer watched me closely, her eyes filled with a knowing wisdom. She sensed my turmoil. I was beginning to realize there was something peculiar about this woman, something beyond her age.

In the corner of the room, I noticed an ancient-looking wolf pelt hanging on the wall, its glassy eyes seemingly watching over the hut. This wolf pelt seemed to be more than just decoration, and it made me wonder about the healer's connection to the supernatural world.

As the warm broth filled my belly, my strength slowly returned. The old woman's presence was reassuring, and I felt like I was in the presence of a wise sage. There was more to this hut and this healer than met the eye, and I couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface.

******

Corrigan's pov

The hours passed by, and I found myself in a state of restless reprieve. The old healer's constant coming and going had me baffled, her interactions with the villagers deepening my intrigue. Each visitor would be greeted with an aura of serenity, her wisdom marking her as someone extraordinary.

She would pause between tending to herbs, casting a knowing gaze in my direction. "You are beautiful," she would remark with a warm smile, to which I could only offer a courteous "Thank you."

Amid the bustling atmosphere, my attention was abruptly drawn to a haunting sight on the wall – a cross-shaped bag that uncannily mirrored the one Lucien often bore in his wolf form. It was an unsettling omen that sent shivers down my spine, and it did not escape Crystal, my vigilant wolf. She sensed an imminent threat, her unease intensifying as she strove to communicate with me through relentless whispers in my mind.

"Corrigan, danger. This place, something's not right. We must run!"

But I, resolute and dismissive, maintained my unwarranted assurance.

"Calm yourself, Crystal. There's no need for panic. We're safe here. The old healer means no harm."

Crystal's warnings persisted, her fear palpable in her words.

"No, you must listen. It's dangerous. That bag – it's a sign. We're in peril. Please, let's go."

Yet, my stubbornness refused to yield to her pleas.

"I appreciate your concern, Crystal, but we need to trust the old healer. She's offered us refuge."

Crystal's voice faded into silence, overpowered by my determination. In doing so, I unwittingly silenced my only ally against the encroaching darkness that awaited us.

*****

As the golden hues of evening cast their warm embrace on the forest, the old healer who had refused to reveal her name started moving about, placing things in order. I kept watching her for a while until she turned towards me.

"My dear," the old healer called me, her eyes gleaming with a glint of amusement as she began gathering herbs and arranging her primitive tools. "Would you lend an old woman a hand in clearing away the remnants of the day?"

I hesitated, my instincts divided between the inescapable curiosity that burned within me and the disquieting sense that something extraordinary, perhaps even dangerous, was afoot. However, her smile, filled with ancient wisdom, convinced me to assist her.

"Of course," I replied, my voice a mixture of intrigue and uncertainty. "What's the occasion?"

She chuckled softly as if sharing a secret with me. "A guest is coming. One who is both familiar and unfamiliar. It is a rare and auspicious visit."

I watched her move gracefully around her dwelling, her fingers dancing with purpose, and I couldn't help but be drawn further into the mysterious atmosphere that enveloped the hut.

"Is this guest of yours a friend or a stranger?" I inquired, the questions bubbling up as I sorted through her cluttered shelves.

The old healer's eyes twinkled with secrets held close to her heart. "Both, my dear. Both."

The cryptic nature of her response left me both baffled and intrigued. We continued to work together in silence, and it wasn't long before our combined efforts had the small space looking tidier than ever.

As we toiled, my wolf, Crystal, whispered her doubts persistently.

"Corrigan, this is not right. Something is amiss here. We must be cautious."

"Hush, Crystal. The old healer seems harmless."

Despite my reassurances, my wolf's persistent unease clung to me like a shadow. And in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if my instincts had led me astray, yet again.

We worked together, side by side, preparing a simple dinner. The old healer regaled me with stories of her life, her voice a soothing tonic for my frayed nerves. She offered me a towel and fresh clothes, recommending a brief reprieve before dinner.

As I bathed, the events of the previous night haunted my thoughts. Dante's face, his heart-rending pleas for help, replayed in my mind, filling me with a profound sense of guilt and sorrow.

After my bath, I went back to the room she showed me. I felt a mix of relief and nervousness. My thoughts were all over the place, entirely unprepared for the shock that awaited me.

There, right before me, stood Lucien. His presence was like a nightmare coming true, a dark and eerie aura surrounding him. It was as if he had effortlessly caught up to me, despite all my desperate attempts to escape.

My wolf, sensing the impending danger, let out a low, fearful growl, and in my mind, her voice was clear and haunting: "I warned you." The gravity of the situation couldn't be denied, and the stakes had never been higher.

"Lucien!" I whispered in shock, my eyes widening.