Chapter 10 ARIA
Aria's POV
By the time the afternoon sun started to fade, my little cottage smelled like chamomile tea, grilled bread, and the faint trace of Nyx’s latest potion attempt. Which, judging from the suspicious purple smoke still curling out of the pot, had gone horribly wrong.
“I told you not to add the peppermint,” I muttered, waving a towel at the smoke.
Nyx arched a brow from where she sat cross-legged on my couch, stirring her cup with slow defiance. “It needed a twist,” she said, taking a sip. “And besides, you’ve been the one with the sour face all day. Thought a little chaos might lift the mood.”
Before I could reply, Nina’s laugh echoed from the kitchen. “Chaos is exactly what she needs,” she called, poking her curly brown head around the corner. “And maybe a bath in lavender oil and courage.”
I groaned and dropped into the chair opposite Nyx. “You two are impossible.”
Nina grinned, her honey eyes sparkling. Nina Moren was everything I wasn’t, she was an Omega from the Ashwood Pack, she was open, warm, and completely unashamed of what she was. Her scent filled the room like sunlight, soft and steady, no trace of fear or suppression. Sometimes, I envied her for it.
“So,” she said, plopping herself between us and crossing her legs dramatically. “Let’s go back to the part where you met him and decided not to tell me right away.”
I winced. “I didn’t decide, I just..,forgot.”
“Forgot?” Nina pressed a hand to her chest as if wounded. “You met Lucian Ashwood–the Lucian–and forgot?”
Nyx snorted. “She was too busy panicking.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, hiding my face behind my cup.
Nina leaned forward, ignoring my scowl. “You know, he used to train near the edge of the Ashwood compound when I was still there. Even then, people whispered about him. Said he was born half-storm, half-steel. He never smiled much, but he had this… intensity. Like if he looked at you too long, you’d forget how to breathe.”
I shifted uncomfortably, that description hitting far too close. “He’s… intense,” I admitted softly.
“Oh, I bet,” Nina teased, eyes glinting. “And here I was thinking our little Aria didn’t like Alphas.”
“I don’t,” I snapped automatically, but my heart wasn’t in it. “I mean, I’m trying not to.”
Nyx looked up from her cup, unimpressed. “You’re trying not to want your mate. Admirable, but useless. Biology wins every time.”
I glared at her. “Says the witch who’s never had a mate bond.”
Nyx shrugged. “I read.”
Nina laughed so hard she nearly spilled her tea. “You two are going to kill each other before this bond does.”
She sobered a bit when I didn’t laugh back. “Aria, listen… I get it. I do. You’ve been through hell. But Lucian, he isn’t like most Alphas at least I don't think he is. He left the pack, walked away from power. His father wanted him to be Alpha after his mom died, but he couldn’t stomach it. Rumor was, they fought so bad one night he nearly tore the whole hall apart.”
I blinked. “I didn’t know that.”
She nodded, the teasing fading from her face. “He disappeared after that. But before then, before his mom passed he was good. Kind, even. Maybe he still is. Maybe he’s just…” She made a helpless gesture. “Tired.”
Something twisted in my chest. Tired..,I understood that word too well.
Nyx leaned forward, breaking the heavy silence. “Don’t start painting halos yet. Men who walk away can still leave ruin behind them. And if he’s really the Alpha of this pack now, then you’d better decide whether you’re willing to live under that kind of shadow again.”
Nina shot her a glare. “He’s her mate, not her jailer.”
Nyx’s tone softened. “That depends on whether he remembers which he’s supposed to be.”
Their bickering faded into background noise as I stared down at my hands. The silver lines of the old scars on my wrists caught the weak light, memories of what it meant to belong to someone who saw you as property, not partner.
I swallowed hard. “I just… I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. “He came here, and it felt like I was standing in front of a storm. I told him to leave.”
“Then maybe go find him,” Nina said gently. “Before the storm passes.”
Nyx scoffed. “Or don’t. If he walks away after one no, he’s not worth the bond.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon trying to distract me, baking sweet rolls, cleaning out my pantry, turning my tiny living room into a nest of laughter and noise. For a few hours, it worked. I even smiled once or twice.
By evening, they finally left, both smelling faintly of cinnamon and mischief. I promised to rest, though I knew I wouldn’t.
The cottage felt impossibly quiet after they were gone. The tick of the clock. The hum of the kettle cooling on the stove. I changed into my nightshirt and some panties brushed out my hair, and filled a glass of water to leave by my bedside, just in case the nightmares came again.
That was when it hit me.
Lucian’s scent.
Faint but unmistakable, dark spice and cedar. It rolled through the open window like a wave, curling around my senses until I nearly dropped the glass.
“Lucian?” I whispered, though I knew he wouldn’t answer.
I rushed outside barefoot, my heart a wild drum in my chest.
And there he was.
A massive wolf stood near the edge of the trees, his fur the color of midnight and moonlight, his eyes glowing a molten amber that froze me in place. He was… breathtaking. Terrifying. The kind of creature that made instinct stir, old and deep.
We stared at each other, neither of us moving. The wind shifted, and his scent hit stronger, dizzying. For a heartbeat, I thought I saw something in his eyes, recognition, hunger, regret.
“Do you…” My voice broke, too soft even for the night. “Do you want to come in?”
The wolf tilted his head slightly, then, before I could even blink, turned and vanished into the trees.
The silence that followed was crushing.
I stood there, throat tight, stupidly hurt. Of course he left. Why wouldn’t he? Maybe Nyx was right. Maybe I’d already ruined whatever fragile thing we’d started.
Then the brush rustled again.
He emerged from the forest, human, bare-armed and flushed from the run, a sleeveless tank clinging to his chest, gray shorts low on his hips. His hair was damp, his eyes still that same impossible gold.
Every word I’d ever known evaporated.
“Can I really come in this time?” he asked, voice rough, low, threaded with something that made my pulse trip.
I swallowed, heat crawling up my neck. “If you want to.”
He took a step closer. Then another. Each one slow, deliberate, as if giving me the chance to change my mind.
I didn’t.
When he reached the porch, I stepped aside, my fingers trembling on the doorknob as he brushed past me, close enough that his scent filled my lungs again, thick and heady and dangerous.
The door clicked shut behind him, the sound far too loud in the quiet.
And as I stood there, my back to the door, heart hammering like it wanted to break free, I couldn’t help wondering…
Had I just let the storm in?