Falling For The Demon Wolf-Chapter 56: The Longest Night

Days went by and her temperature rose and dropped consistently, her lips were cracked and under eye sunkend from stress, she looked nothing like herself.

I stayed

Constantly reassuring myself that she’ll be fine.

But two mornings later, I woke with her body burning in my arms.

Her skin was flushed red, damp with sweat, her breathing ragged. I jerked upright instantly, my hand flying to her forehead.

Too hot.

Far too hot.

"Violet?" I called, shaking her gently, panic scraping down my spine. "Violet, wake up—"

She didn’t stir. Her eyes fluttered but didn’t open. Her lips parted in a soft, incoherent moan, and then she stilled again.

"Liora!" I shouted, my voice shaking. "Get Maren! Now!"

Footsteps thundered down the hall and I didn’t wait. I lifted Violet into my arms and carried her straight out of the room. She felt like fire pressed against my chest, like holding a flame too long in bare hands. Her head lolled against my shoulder.

By the time I reached the infirmary, Maren was already pulling on her robes.

"She’s burning up," I said harshly, laying her down on the cot. "Do something."

Maren moved fast, hands glowing with low pulses of green healing light as she passed them over Violet’s body. Liora hovered nearby with wet cloths, trying to sponge the sweat off her temples, but nothing helped. Her skin only grew hotter.

"It’s not an infection," Maren muttered, frowning deeper. "There’s no physical wound left that could cause this."

"Then what the hell is it?" I snarled.

She looked at me, her old eyes heavy with something I hadn’t seen before.

Pity.

"It’s her wolf," she said quietly. "Her body is fighting to heal, but her wolf is still locked away. She’s trying to mend like a human would, but she isn’t human, Zain. Her wolf is... fractured. Weak. If it doesn’t wake soon..."

I didn’t need her to finish.

I could see it in her face.

"She won’t survive," I said hoarsely.

Maren looked away.

I stood there in silence, the truth sinking into my bones like winter. Wolf let out a low whine behind me, pacing restlessly at the foot of the bed.

"What do I do?" I asked. My voice cracked.

Maren hesitated, then stepped closer. "There’s one thing. A last resort."

I met her eyes, heart pounding. "Tell me."

She exhaled slowly. "You’re her mate. If you mark her... the bond could pull her wolf back. Strengthen it. Give her enough power to finish healing."

I stared down at Violet.

She was barely conscious, her face pale and slick with sweat, her breath wheezing in shallow bursts. She looked so small lying there — nothing like the fierce, sharp-tongued girl who had stood against me the day we met.

"Would it hurt her?" I asked tightly.

"No," Maren said gently. "It would tether her to you, that’s all. It will be a shock. But it might be the only thing strong enough to pull her back."

I closed my eyes.

Marking her now...

It felt wrong. Like taking something that wasn’t fully mine yet. Like binding her to a life she hadn’t agreed to.

She deserved to make that choice herself.

But if I didn’t...

She would die.

And I wouldn’t—

I couldn’t—

Let that happen.

I turned to Maren.

"Give me one more day," I said. "If she doesn’t come back by then... I’ll do it."

Maren nodded solemnly and turned away, giving us space.

I sat beside her again, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. Her temperature hadn’t dropped even a fraction.

"Come back, little wolf," I whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Please."

But Violet didn’t respond.

And the day dragged on with her heat rising and her strength draining — and me clinging to the last thread of hope I had left.

The room was too quiet.

Even Wolf had stopped pacing. He lay curled in the corner, ears flat against his head, watching with the same worried gaze that matched the storm in my chest.

The fire in the hearth crackled low, casting long shadows across the walls. I sat beside her bed, elbows resting on my knees, her hand clutched gently in mine.

Her skin was still too hot.

Too red.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, like each inhale was a mountain to climb.

I’d changed her into a lighter shift hours ago, sponged her down with cool water again and again, and even opened the windows despite the chill. Nothing worked. Her body refused to cool, and her wolf—her stubborn, silent wolf—remained buried deep within her.

Maren had checked in three times since sunset. Each time, she said the same thing: "It’s not getting better."

No advice. No spells. Just quiet resignation.

That was what scared me most.

She was fading right in front of me.

And I was helpless.

The clock ticked.

The moon rose higher.

Every sound was sharper tonight—every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind against the shutters. I could feel something shifting, something primal and painful hanging in the air like storm clouds ready to break.

Violet trembled suddenly, her whole body convulsing in a brief, violent shudder. I lurched forward, catching her shoulders.

"Hey—shh, I’ve got you," I said, my voice shaking as I pulled the blanket down. Her skin glistened with sweat. "It’s okay. You’re okay."

But she wasn’t.

Her pulse fluttered wildly under my fingers—too fast. Too thin.

I could see the shadow of her wolf inside her, curled and weak, barely breathing in the corner of her soul. I reached for it through the bond we hadn’t completed, trying to draw it closer. Trying to coax it back.

But it recoiled.

Afraid. Hurt.

Broken.

"Why won’t you come back to her?" I whispered. "She needs you."

Violet whimpered again, her lips moving slightly.

I leaned in fast, pressing my ear to her mouth.

"...Zain..."

My name. A breath. A prayer.

It broke me.

"I’m here," I said thickly. "I’ve been here the whole time."

I lay beside her again, gently, holding her close without adding to her heat. My arms curled around her carefully, head tucked into the crook of her neck.

She shivered violently once more, and then stilled again.

The night stretched on.

Outside, the wind howled.

Inside, I listened to the ticking of the clock and the too-quiet rhythm of her breaths.

Every minute dragged.

Every second burned.

Marking her now could save her. I knew that.

But still, I hesitated.

Not out of fear—but because I wanted to give her one more chance.

One more chance to fight.

To choose.

Because the second I marked her, everything would change.

She would be mine in every way.

Bound. Claimed. Tethered to me forever.

I would carry that choice with me for the rest of my life.

And so would she.

But if the sun rose and she hadn’t gotten better—if her pulse grew any weaker—I would make that choice for both of us.

Even if she hated me for it later.

I held her closer, one hand tangled in her damp hair, the other stroking her back slowly. Her heartbeat fluttered weakly beneath my palm, and I counted each beat like a desperate prayer.

"Don’t give up, Violet," I murmured. "I know you’re in there. I know you’re fighting."

The stars faded behind the clouds.

Dawn was still hours away.

And the longest night wasn’t over yet.