Chapter 60 Close Proximity
Dahila’s POV
Zola was right about one thing.
I could not keep running from what I felt.
But that did not mean I had to welcome it.
The palace gates came into view as I stepped out of the woods. Tall iron bars, silver-tipped, guarded by warriors in black armor. Torches burned on either side, their flames bending in the wind.
Something was different.
There were more guards than usual.
They stood alert. Tense.
And at the center of it all—
Dagnoth.
He stood at the entrance like he had been carved from stone. Dark cloak falling over broad shoulders. Hair pushed back from his face. Jaw tight. His presence alone made the air heavier.
My heart betrayed me instantly.
It skipped. Then slammed hard against my ribs.
I hated it.
I hated how my body reacted before my mind could catch up.
He looked… unfairly handsome. As usual.
And powerful.
And dangerous.
I slowed my steps.
Why were there so many guards? What happened?
I did not want him to see me yet. Not like this. Not with Zola’s words still echoing in my head. Not with my emotions tangled and exposed.
So I shifted slightly, planning to circle toward the side entrance near the east tower.
If I moved quietly enough—
His head turned.
Our eyes met.
The world narrowed.
Everything else faded—the guards, the wind, the crackling torches.
Just his eyes.
Dark. Intense.
And the moment they locked with mine, my heart dropped straight into my stomach.
Memories flashed without permission.
That night.
His hands gripping my waist.
The heat of his breath against my neck.
The way his voice had lowered when he said my name.
Desire.
Raw and consuming.
I forced my expression to remain calm.
I looked away first.
Then I changed direction completely, pretending I had not seen him.
Three steps.
Four.
“Dahila.”
His voice was low, controlled.
It wrapped around my spine.
I kept walking.
Boots moved behind me.
Fast.
Of course he would not let me escape that easily.
A hand closed gently but firmly around my wrist.
I stopped.
Slowly, I turned.
He stood close now. Too close.
The guards near the gate tried not to stare, but I could feel their attention.
“You were not in your chambers,” he said.
His tone was calm, but there was something beneath it.
Something sharp.
“I needed air,” I replied evenly.
“You left the territory.”
It was not a question.
“I did.”
His jaw tightened. “Without informing me.”
“I did not realize I required permission to breathe.”
His eyes flashed at that.
“You require protection.”
“I can protect myself.”
A flicker of something crossed his face. Annoyance. Or admiration. I could not tell.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
I hesitated for only a second.
“To see a friend.”
“Which friend?”
His grip on my wrist loosened slightly, but he did not release me.
“Zola.”
He studied my face carefully, like he was measuring truth.
Then his gaze sharpened.
“Not to see the father of your pups?”
The words hit like a slap.
My spine straightened.
“No.”
His eyes did not leave mine. “You answered too quickly.”
“Because the answer is simple.”
“And that is?”
“There is no reason for me to see him.”
Silence stretched between us.
The air felt charged. Electric.
The guards shifted uncomfortably behind him.
His thumb brushed lightly against my wrist before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He dropped my hand immediately.
But the warmth remained.
“You disappeared during a security concern,” he said quietly.
My stomach tightened. “What happened?”
“A patrol was attacked near the south border.”
My breath caught. “Rogues?”
“Yes.”
“Casualties?”
“One injured. No deaths.”
Relief loosened something in my chest.
“Is that why you were waiting at the gate?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His gaze sharpened again.
“I was not waiting.”
I raised a brow.
His lips twitched slightly. “I was ensuring security.”
“Of course you were.”
A pause.
The tension shifted.
Not hostile.
Something else.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
“You should not walk alone right now.”
“I was not alone.”
His eyes narrowed. “Zola is not a warrior.”
“She is far more dangerous than you think.”
That earned the faintest hint of a smirk.
“I do not doubt that.”
Another silence.
The torches crackled behind him. Wind lifted a strand of his hair.
He looked tired.
Not physically.
But mentally.
“You should have told me,” he said more quietly.
“Why?” I asked softly.
“So I would know where you are.”
The answer came too quickly.
Too honest.
My heart betrayed me again.
“And why does that matter?” I pressed.
His jaw flexed.
“It matters,” he said simply.
That was not enough.
But it was something.
I folded my arms, creating space between us. “You have an entire territory to worry about. I doubt my movements are your priority.”
“They are.”
The word was firm.
Direct.
And it made my pulse race.
I forced myself not to react.
“You are under my protection,” he continued.
“There it is,” I said quietly. “Protection.”
His brows drew together. “What does that mean?”
“It means duty,” I replied. “Responsibility. Obligation.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
But it was not nothing.
He stepped even closer.
Close enough that I could feel his warmth.
Close enough that his scent wrapped around me—dark woods and smoke and something distinctly him.
My body reacted before my pride could stop it.
I inhaled.
His eyes darkened immediately.
“There is more,” he said, voice rougher now.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You avoid me.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
His hand lifted slightly, as if he wanted to touch my face. He stopped himself mid-motion.
The restraint in that small movement shook me more than if he had actually touched me.
“I avoid complications,” I corrected.
His eyes searched mine.
“And am I a complication?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
The truth slipped out before I could soften it.
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
“For you,” I added, my voice lowering, “or for the throne?”
The question lingered between us.
Heavy.
His gaze hardened slightly.
“I am both.”
That was not the reassurance I wanted.
“I cannot afford to be either,” I said.
His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “You think I can?”
The vulnerability in that single sentence caught me off guard.
For a moment, I saw not the Alpha.
Not the ruler.
Just a man carrying too much.
I swallowed.
“That does not change the risk,” I said softly.
“No,” he agreed.
Silence again.
But this time it felt different.
Less defensive.
More… aware.
He leaned closer.
Close enough that if I tilted my head slightly, our lips would meet.
My heart pounded wildly.
His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth.
Then back to my eyes.
“You said you did not go to see him,” he murmured.
“I did not.”
“Good.”
The word was almost possessive.
I stiffened slightly. “Why does that please you?”
His gaze turned heated.
“Because I do not like the idea of another man having reason to claim you.”
My breath caught.
“You do not own me,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“Then do not speak like you do.”
His expression shifted—something between frustration and hunger.
“I speak as a man who feels,” he said quietly.
The confession hung in the air.
Raw.
Dangerous.
My chest tightened painfully.
“And what exactly do you feel?” I asked before fear could stop me.
His eyes held mine steadily.
“You already know.”
The memory of that night surged again.
The way he had said my name against my skin.
The way his control had slipped just enough.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
“This is reckless,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Your Luna—”
“Is not part of this conversation.”
“She will make it part of one.”
His expression darkened. “Let me handle that.”
“I do not want you fighting because of me.”
“I fight for what is mine to protect.”
There it was again.
Protection.
Duty.
But beneath it—
Something else.
I stepped back, creating distance before I drowned in it.
“You should return to your security concern,” I said quietly.
“And you?”
“I will return to my chambers.”
His eyes lingered on me a second longer than necessary.
“Do not disappear again,” he said.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether I am running from danger,” I replied softly, “or from you.”
A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips.
“If you are running from me,” he said, voice low and steady, “I will always catch you.”
My heart stumbled again.
I turned before he could see how deeply that affected me.
As I walked toward the palace doors, I could feel his gaze on my back.
Burning.
Claiming.
Uncertain.
And terrifyingly mutual.
Zola had told me not to act recklessly.
She had told me to let him show his hand.
Tonight, he had shown just enough to make everything harder.
And as I stepped inside the cold stone corridors once more, I knew one thing with painful clarity.
This was no longer just about enemies inside these walls.
It was about the war building inside my own heart.