Chapter 62 062

Chapter 62 062
Natasha

I saw Mikhail and Irina, walking through the gardens together from the infirmary window.

The midday sun caught her dark hair, making it shine like polished obsidian. She was laughing at something he said, or pretending he had said something funny.

Her hand was on his arm again and my chest constricted so tight I couldn't breathe.

This was the third day. It had been three days of watching her pursue him, touch him and smile at him like she already owned him.

It had been three days of torture disguised as courtship.

"Beautiful couple, aren't they?"

I jerked away from the window to find Mary, one of the older pack healers, standing behind me with supplies.

"I suppose." I managed, my voice remarkably steady.

"Irina is quite accomplished. Dimitri chose well." She began organizing bandages. "It will be good for Mikhail to settle down. He's been distracted lately."

Distracted by me. By us. By sneaking moments we stole in the darkness.

"Yes," I said hollowly. "Good for him."

I forced myself back to work, focusing on inventorying our medical supplies. Anything to keep from looking out that window again.

Anything to avoid seeing his hands on her, her body pressed close to his and that confident smile that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

But even with my back turned, I could picture them. Mikhail, tall and powerful beside her. Irina, beautiful and bold, everything a leader’s mate should be. Everything I could never be openly.

The comparison was destroying me.

Irina was stunning. She had the kind of beauty that turned heads, that commanded attention. High cheekbones, full lips and a body that moved with predatory grace.

And more than that, she was confident and bold. She touched Mikhail without hesitation, spoke to him as an equal and made her interest abundantly clear.

While I had to hide in the shadows, pretending my heart wasn't being ripped from my chest every time I saw them together.

"Natasha, are you alright?" Mary asked. "You look pale."

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"You've been working too hard. Take a break, dear."

I couldn't take a break. Taking a break meant time to think, and thinking meant remembering Mikhail's hands on my body, his voice in my ear whispering sweet things.

It meant remembering the promises we had made in the darkness that seemed impossible in the daylight.

The infirmary door opened and two warriors came in, one supporting the other who was limping badly.

"There was a training accident," The uninjured one explained. "Nikolai twisted his ankle pretty bad."

Thank the goddess. I finally found something to focus on.

I helped Nikolai to the examination table, carefully removing his boot to assess the damage. It was swollen and angry-looking. Definitely a bad sprain or maybe worse.

"This is going to hurt." I warned, gently probing the joint.

Nikolai hissed but stayed still. "How bad?"

"Bad enough that you're off training for at least two weeks. Maybe more," I began wrapping it efficiently. "Ice, elevation and stay off it as much as possible."

"Dimitri's not going to like that."

"Dimitri will like it less if you permanently damage it by pushing too hard," I secured the bandage. "I'll talk to him."

After I finished with Nikolai, there was a young omega who had burned her hand cooking, then a child who scraped his knee badly enough to need stitches.

I attended to them swiftly but nothing could distract me from the weight in my chest.

When the last patient left and Mary went to check on supplies in the storage room, I finally let myself look out the window again.

Mikhail and Irina were still there and they were sitting on a bench now. She had moved closer, her body angled toward his, and even from this distance I could see her hand on his thigh.

Something inside me cracked. He looked resigned. He didn’t look happy or engaged, but he wasn’t pulling away either.

He was just sitting there, letting her touch him, while I watched from the window like some pathetic ghost.

This is what it would be like from now on. This was my future. Watching him with someone else. Watching her take everything that should have been mine.

The tears came before I could stop them. I turned away from the window, my hand over my mouth to muffle the sob that wanted to escape.

I couldn't do this. I couldn't watch him court another woman, plan a future with her and eventually mate her.

The thought of him mating Irina, of him touching her the way he touched me made me physically ill.

I pressed my forehead against the cool wall, trying to breathe through the pain, butit was everywhere, consuming me and drowning me.

"Natasha?"

I spun to find Mary in the doorway, her expression concerned.

"I'm fine." I said quickly, wiping my eyes, but Mary wasn't fooled.

She crossed the room, her weathered hand gentle on my shoulder. "Oh, sweetheart. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired." My voice broke.

She studied me with knowing eyes. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Mikhail's courtship, would it?"

My heart stopped. "What? No, of course not."

"I've known you since you were a child, Natasha. I know when something is hurting you," Her voice was kind, not accusatory. "And I've seen the way you look at him when you think no one is watching."

I gasped as my hands began trembling by my sides. This was bad. This was really bad. If Mary knew, who else knew?

"It's nothing," I whispered. "Just a foolish crush. It doesn't matter."

"It matters to you," She squeezed my shoulder. "But child, he is your brother and you are—"

"I know what I am," The words came out sharper than intended. "I know exactly what we are and what I can never be."

Her expression softened with pity, and that somehow made it worse.

"I should get back to work." I said, pulling away from her touch.

"Take the rest of the day. I can handle things here."

"No, I’m fine. I promise."

"That's an order from your senior healer," Her tone was firm but gentle. "Go rest, Natasha. Clear your head."

I wanted to argue, but what was the point? I nodded mutely and left, keeping my head down as I walked through the corridors.

Back in my room, I finally let myself fall apart.

I collapsed on my bed, burying my face in the pillow to muffle my sobs. Everything hurt. My chest, my throat, my heart. Everything.

This was impossible. We had been living in a fantasy, pretending we could have something that was never meant to be ours, and now reality was finally crashing down.

Mikhail would mate Irina. He would have to. For the pack, for his position and for all the practical reasons that mattered in our world, and I would have to watch.

I would have to smile and congratulate them. I would have to pretend my heart wasn't shattered into a million pieces.

Maybe later, they would arrange a match for me too. Gregory or Alexei or some other male I didn't love, and I would mate him because that's what was expected.

I would have to spend the rest of my life pretending I didn't ache for someone else. The sobs came harder, my whole body shaking with them.

I don't know how long I cried. It was long enough that my eyes were swollen and my throat was raw. Long enough that the sun began to set, casting my room in shadows.

I heard my door open softly.

"Natasha?"

That was Mikhail's voice. I sat up quickly, trying to wipe my face, but there was no hiding what I had been doing.

He closed the door behind him and crossed the room in three strides, pulling me into his arms. "Baby, what is going on?"

"I saw you," I choked out. "With her inn the gardens. She was touching you and you just let her."

"I know," His voice was rough. "I know, and I'm sorry."

"She's so beautiful. So confident. Everything I can't be."

"Stop," He pulled back, his hands framing my face, forcing me to look at him. "Don't do that. Don't compare yourself to her."

"How can I not?" Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks, my heart shattering in my chest. "She's perfect for you. Everyone says so. And I'm just me."

"You're everything to me," His thumbs wiped my tears. "Everything that matters. Everything I want."

"But you can't have me. Not really."

Pain flashed across his face. "I couldn't do it," He said quietly. "Today, she tried to kiss me. We were alone in the gardens and she leaned in and I—"

He shook his head. "I couldn't. I turned away and made some excuse. She looked hurt, confused, but I couldn't fucking do it."

"Mikhail."

"I've spent three days with her, and I feel nothing. She talks and I barely hear her. She touches me and I want to pull away because she's not you."

His forehead pressed against mine. "You're the only one I want to touch me. The only one I want to kiss. The only one I can even imagine being with."

"But eventually you'll have to—"

"I don't know," His voice cracked. "I don't know what I'm going to do, but I know I can't keep pretending. I can't keep letting her believe this is going somewhere when my heart belongs to you."

He kissed me softly.

"I love you," He whispered against my lips. "I love you so fucking much it's killing me."

"I love you too," I kissed him back, tasting salt from both our tears. "I love you and I don't know how to stop."

"Don't stop. Please don't stop."

He laid me back on the bed, his body covering mine, and this time there was no urgency, just tenderness as we held onto each other like we were drowning.

He undressed me slowly and reverently, pressing kisses to every inch of skin he exposed. My shoulders, my collarbone and the curve of my breasts, like he was memorizing me.

"You're so beautiful," He murmured against my stomach. "You’re perfect. Don't ever doubt that."

When he finally slid inside me, we both gasped, not from intensity, but from the rightness of it. The way we fit together and the way we moved as one.

"Look at me." He said softly, his hand cupping my cheek.

I opened my eyes to find his gaze locked on mine. His eyes were dark, intense and full of so much love it made my chest ache.

"This is real," He said, moving slowly, deeply. "This is what matters. Not some arranged courtship. Not some perfect-on-paper match. This."

I wrapped my legs around his waist, my hands in his hair, and let myself get lost in him. In the slide of our bodies, the whisper of his breath against my skin and the way he said my name.

"Natasha," His lips brushed mine. "My Natasha."

"Yours," I breathed. "Always yours."

We made love slowly and tenderly, with a bittersweet desperation that came from knowing this might not last. That the world was pulling us apart even as we held each other close.

When we came, it was together, our mouths fused, swallowing each other's cries. After, he held me against his chest, his hand stroking my hair.

"I'll find a way," He murmured. "I swear to you, I'll find a way out of this."

I wanted to believe him so badly, but I honestly couldn’t.