Chapter 132: Blood and bond
My heart squeezed with a quiet, agonizing ache at the sight. He hadn’t even brought the stuffed animal he never, ever sleeps without.
I crept closer and sat beside him on the edge of the mattress, taking care not to disturb his rest. But the moment the bed dipped under my weight, his eyes fluttered open.
I froze.
There was something unnerving about them.
The soft gray had completely vanished. His eyes were dark, almost pitch-black, watching me not with the lingering grogginess of a sleeping child, but with a sharp, instinctive focus that no four-year-old should possess upon waking.
He sat up, crawled into my lap, and tilted his head to sniff the air. It was such an adult, primal motion that a cold shudder ran down my spine. Then his small arms wrapped tightly around my neck, burying his face in the crook of my shoulder.
"Mommy... you’re back. What’s that smell?"
The question squeezed the breath out of my lungs. My heart nearly stopped.
"Is it bad?" I whispered, wrapping my arms around him and stroking his back. "Do you want me to go wash up...? It will only take a minute, I just need––"
"No!" he huffed indignantly, clinging even tighter. "I like it. Don’t wash it off."
I pulled him flush against my chest, burying my face in his soft curls as I closed my eyes. He was smelling his father. Instinctively reaching out for him without even knowing who it belonged to. He recognized something ancient and familiar in that scent—something warm, protective, and unmistakably his own.
Blood and bond could never be lied to.
Everything had been turned inside out today, twisted into a chaotic knot I had no idea how to unravel. But seeing his reaction stirred a quiet, uncomfortable truth I had spent five years burying: perhaps I had been wrong to decide everything on my own. Perhaps I should tell Magnus. Let them be a father and son. But I had no guarantee he wouldn’t tear Matthias away from me back then. And I had none now.
While the guards brought in a drowsy doctor and assembled the transfusion equipment, I rushed to change out of my tactical gear. Stepping into the bathroom, I caught my reflection and recoiled.
Disheveled.
My eyes still burned with an unnerving, feverish bright ring. My lips were swollen and bitten raw—and I couldn’t even tell if I had bitten them myself or if Magnus had done it.
And my neck... my neck was ruined. Crimson bruises and fierce bite marks bloomed across my bare skin, and right over my shattered mark sat two distinct, sharp punctures from his fangs. Goddess above. We had both lost our minds in that parlor. What had we done? What had I let him do to me?
I scrubbed my face with freezing water until my skin burned, forcing the memories back into the dark before returning to the bedroom.
"Mommy, you’re gonna stay with me, right?"
Matthias was already changed into a light t-shirt and shorts, sitting on the bed with a heavy, serious look that felt far too mature for his age. The doctor and Adam stood near the bed, calibrating several medical monitors and IV lines. They deliberately kept their eyes lowered, and I was profoundly grateful for their discretion.
"Always, baby," I murmured, picking him up and curling around him on the bed as the doctor inserted the IV needle.
Matthias didn’t even flinch. He just watched calmly—he was far too used to the pain. Watching his quiet resignation tore at my insides, forcing me to grit my teeth so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spill. Pain shouldn’t be something a child gets used to. Not at four. Not at ten. Never.
The doctor adjusted the flow monitor and spoke in a low, respectful tone. "The process will take a couple of hours. It would be best if he sleeps through it. I don’t mean to cross any boundaries, but I strongly advise releasing your own scent. You know how deeply soothing it is for a young pup’s recovery."
I nodded softly. I stroked Matthias’s hair as he lay sprawled over my chest, his small nose pressed into my neck. Slowly, his ragged breathing evened out, turning deep and rhythmic. His body went entirely limp, melting against me as he drifted off. I felt his tiny fingers gradually loosen their tight grip on my shirt.
It had never been like this before. During previous blood filtrations, he would toss, turn, and cry out in distress, exhausting both of us for hours. But now, he was simply at peace. As if some missing piece inside him had finally clicked into place, keeping the storm at bay.
It was a welcome change. For the first time during the last thirty-six hours, I could finally take a calm breath of relief.
I had no idea how long we had been just sitting like that before Adam stepped inside, and I gave a subtle nod toward the blanket. He draped it gently over us before cracking open the window to let fresh air circulate.
The crimson rays of dawn bathed the room in a warm light, while birds began to sing their soft, light melodies outside. A cool breeze rustled the curtains, and in this tranquil, scarlet-lit silence, something deep inside me finally began to uncoil. Because I had done it. Matthias was alive. The blood had been secured. Everything else could be dealt with later.
Then, I heard a faint, rhythmic purring sound.
I shifted my eyes down to my son’s face. He was fast asleep, his lips parted slightly, revealing tiny bruises along his lower lip. Before panic could take root, my mind caught up with what my eyes were seeing as he parted his lips a bit wider—there, peeking through, were tiny fangs. Small, pup fangs.
A rich, vibrant scent suddenly filled the room. The undisputed scent of a true Alpha pup.
The blood had worked.