Chapter 15. The Healing Touch

Darach cursed his temper for letting it get the best of him. His shoulders slumped under the weight of shame pressing down on him. He had committed the unforgivable deed: he had raised his hand against his own mate. It didn’t matter that the blow hadn’t been meant for her; the guilt clawed at him mercilessly.

Darach was more beast than man in this moment, heart aching for his mate’s pain. Though Amber hadn’t spoken, he could see the deep impact of the blow on her flawless, delicate face, now marred with angry bruises and a slowly forming black-and-blue hue. The sight of her lying so vulnerable, the faint trickle of blood at the corner of her lips, made his chest tighten painfully, almost suffocating him.

He began to wonder if men of his line were cursed, doomed to ruin every chance of a happy ending. First his mighty uncle, then Connor, and now him—Darach—destined to stumble in matters of the heart, all because of witches and their manipulations.

Darach fucking hat