Chapter 33 ARIA
ARIA'S POV
The cottage creaks when the door opens.
It’s a soft sound, wood settling, hinges whispering but my body reacts like it’s a gunshot. Heat flares low in my belly, sharp and sudden, and I gasp before I can stop myself.
He’s back, Nyra murmurs.
“I know,” I whisper, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter.
I try to straighten. Try to look normal. Try to pretend my skin isn’t buzzing like it’s been brushed with electricity for hours now. The sedative Orion gave me earlier, sleep came in heavy, dreamless waves but waking up afterward felt like sinking into warm water instead of climbing out of it.
Lucian’s presence fills the space before I even see him.
Not loud. Not overwhelming.
Just… there.
Steady. Grounded.
Safe.
“Aria?” he calls again, closer now.
“In the kitchen,” I answer, my voice embarrassingly breathy.
He appears in the doorway a moment later, arms full of grocery bags. His hair is slightly mussed, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There’s dirt on his boots and a faint crease between his brows that wasn’t there this morning.
His eyes find me instantly.
They soften.
And then, very deliberately…he looks away.
That does something dangerous to my chest.
“You didn’t have to get so much,” I say, nodding toward the bags, trying to keep my mind on words instead of the way my body is leaning toward him without permission.
“I did,” he replies calmly. “You’ll need it.”
We’ll need it, Nyra corrects smugly.
Lucian sets the bags down and finally looks back at me, really looks. His gaze is careful, measured like he’s handling glass.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Because how do you explain that your body feels like it’s humming under your skin, that every breath feels too shallow and too deep at the same time, that the air smells like him and it’s making it hard to think?
“I’m okay,” I lie.
His jaw tightens. “Aria.”
I sigh. “I’m… managing.”
That seems to satisfy him more than the first answer. He nods once and moves past me to start unloading supplies. I watch him do it, the way his hands move with practiced efficiency, the way his shoulders stay slightly tense, like he’s bracing for something.
For me.
The thought makes my chest ache.
“I talked to Orion,” he says casually, as if discussing the weather.
My stomach flips. “And?”
“He gave me something to help you rest,” he says, not looking at me. “When it gets bad.”
“When,” I echo faintly.
Lucian turns then, leaning back against the counter across from me. He keeps a careful distance, and I hate myself a little for noticing.
“We’ll take this slow,” he says. “You’re in control.”
Nyra laughs softly in my head.
Liar, she says, not unkindly.
Lucian must see something flicker across my face because his voice gentles further. “I mean that. If at any point you want space, you get it.”
I nod, swallowing.
“Thank you,” I manage.
We fall into a quiet rhythm after that putting things away, lighting the lamps as the sky darkens outside. The cottage really is beautiful. Warm wood. Soft rugs. A fireplace that smells faintly of pine.
It feels… intentional.
Like someone loved this place once.
I run my fingers along the back of a chair and feel something tighten behind my eyes.
Lucian notices.
“Hey,” he says softly.
I shake my head quickly. “I’m fine. Just, emotional.”
“That’s allowed,” he replies.
We eat later something simple, soup and bread. I don’t realize how hungry I am until the first spoonful hits my tongue, warmth spreading through me. Lucian watches me eat like it’s the most important thing in the world.
It makes my throat tight.
“You’re staring,” I mumble.
“Sorry,” he says, not looking sorry at all. “Habit.”
I huff out a small laugh. “That’s not comforting.”
“It’s honest,” he counters.
After dinner, the heat spikes again. Not sharp insistent. A low, curling ache that makes it hard to sit still. I press my thighs together unconsciously, and Lucian notices immediately.
He stands.
“I’m going to step outside for a minute,” he says. “Get some air.”
Guilt slams into me.
“You don’t have to…”
“I want to,” he interrupts gently. “I’ll be right there if you need me.”
The door closes behind him, and the silence feels louder without him in it.
I sink onto the couch, curling in on myself.
Nyra hums. He’s strong.
“He shouldn’t have to be,” I whisper.
He chooses to be.
I close my eyes, breathing through the waves. Memories creep in uninvited the old pack, locked doors, hands that hurt, promises whispered like threats.
I shudder.
A knock sounds softly.
“Aria?” Lucian’s voice, careful. “Can I come back in?”
My heart clenches.
“Yes,” I say immediately.
He returns, slower this time, eyes scanning me like he’s memorizing every detail. He sits on the armchair opposite me, not touching, but close enough that I can feel his warmth.
“I’m scared,” I admit suddenly.
He doesn’t interrupt.
“I don’t know who I’ll be when it gets worse,” I continue. “I don’t want to become someone I don’t recognize.”
Lucian leans forward, forearms resting on his knees.
“Then we’ll face her together,” he says. “Whoever she is.”
My eyes burn.
“You really think I won’t hurt you?” I whisper.
He meets my gaze steadily. “I think you’ve been hurting alone for a long time. That’s not the same thing.”
Something inside me breaks open at that.
I don’t realize I’m crying until he’s kneeling in front of me, offering not touching just there.
“May I?” he asks quietly.
I nod.
His hand rests over mine, warm and solid. The heat flares at the contact, but it doesn’t overwhelm. It anchors.
Nyra sighs contentedly. Good choice.
We sit like that for a long time, the forest breathing around us, the night settling in.
For the first time since Orion’s office, I don’t feel like running.
And that feels like hope.