Chapter 30 Healing Wounds
[Nyx]
I dipped a soft cloth in warm water and began to clean his wounds. He tensed at the first touch, then gradually relaxed.
"Does it hurt?" I asked softly, my voice barely audible.
"Not at all," he replied, but I could feel the slight tremor in his muscles beneath my fingertips.
Deliberately, I pressed just a little harder on one of the deeper cuts. He inhaled sharply, and his hand shot up, capturing my wrist.
"Mischievous little thing," he murmured, turning his head slightly to meet my eyes, a hint of playfulness in his amber gaze despite the pain.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. "I won't do this again. I'll behave, I promise. I don't want you hurt because of me."
His expression turned serious. "No," he said firmly. "That's not what you should be doing, Nyx. You shouldn't be 'behaving' or making yourself small. You need to become stronger. Do you understand?"
I nodded slowly, something shifting inside me at his words. For years, everyone had tried to tame me, to make me conform. Lysander was the first to suggest I should become more powerful, not less.
"Why did you do it?" I asked, returning to cleaning his wounds. "Take the blame, I mean."
"Because I like you, Nyx," he replied softly, the honesty in his voice catching me off guard. He paused, his voice growing warmer. "Fulfilling your wishes is more important to me than avoiding punishment. Making you happy is worth any price."
His simple confession made my heart race, a warmth spreading through my chest that I couldn't ignore. I kept my hands busy with the bandages, hoping he wouldn't notice the blush rising to my cheeks or hear the sudden quickening of my breath.
"I saw Lilith crying for you," I said suddenly, not entirely sure why I mentioned it.
"She shouldn't have been there," Lysander sighed. "Karl wouldn't want his daughters witnessing such things."
"And yet we both were," I replied, finishing the bandages. "She cares about you, you know."
"She's a sweet kid," he said dismissively. "Always has been."
"She's not a kid anymore," I said quietly, moving around to face him. "She's seventeen. And she looks at you the way..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence.
Lysander caught my wrist, his touch gentle despite his strength. "The way what?"
I pulled away, busying myself with the medical supplies. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."
"Nyx," he said, his voice lower now. "Look at me."
Reluctantly, I turned to face him. He stood despite his injuries, towering over me, his presence filling the room.
"Are you jealous?" he asked directly, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"What? No!" I protested too quickly, the heat rushing to my ears betraying me. "Of course not."
His lips curved into a knowing smile. "You should know I've never had any feelings for Lilith. Not once. She's tried many times, but I've never responded to her advances."
"I know that," I said, attempting nonchalance as I reorganized medical supplies that didn't need organizing. "And I don't care either way. It's not like we chose this marriage."
"Don't you?" he asked softly, his amber eyes holding mine, making it impossible to look away. "If you could choose again, would you choose me?"
My heart hammered in my chest at the unexpected question. I felt my face grow hot, and I quickly broke eye contact.
"Shut up," I muttered, turning away and fumbling with the bandages. "I'm busy. I don't have time for ridiculous questions."
A knowing smile played at his lips as he watched me fuss with supplies that were already perfectly organized. He mercifully allowed the subject to drop.
"Thank you," he said simply. "For the bandages. For caring enough to watch."
"I just didn't want my husband dying before I had a chance to figure out what to do with him," I replied, attempting lightness.
A smile touched his lips. "Of course. Purely practical."
"You should rest," I said, gesturing to the bed. "Werewolf healing or not, your body needs time."
He nodded, moving carefully toward the bed. As he settled on his stomach, he looked up at me. "Will you stay?"
The vulnerability in the question caught me off guard. This strong, stoic warrior was asking for my presence, not as a duty, but as a comfort.
"I'll stay," I promised, settling into a chair beside the bed.
As Lysander drifted to sleep, I found myself studying his face, relaxed now in slumber. I thought about the way he'd endured his punishment without a sound, the dignity in his bearing, the protection he'd offered me. I thought about Lilith's tears and my own strange reaction to them.
I watched Lysander's chest rise and fall with each breath, his face relaxed in sleep despite the pain he must have been feeling. The wounds across his back were stark against his tanned skin, each one a reminder of the punishment he'd taken for me.
Without overthinking, I slipped off my shoes and carefully climbed onto the bed beside him. He didn't stir, his breathing remaining deep and even. I curled against his uninjured side, my head coming to rest near his shoulder. His warmth enveloped me immediately, comforting in the cool night air.
The slight shift in weight was enough to rouse him. His breathing changed, and I felt him gradually wake.
"Nyx?" His voice was husky with sleep, barely above a whisper.
"I was cold," I lied, keeping my eyes closed.
A low chuckle rumbled through him. "Of course you were."
He shifted carefully, his arm coming around to pull me closer against his side. The movement must have pained him, but he made no sound of discomfort.
"Better?" he asked, his breath warm against my hair.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The position felt right, like something I'd been wanting without realizing. His heartbeat was strong and steady beneath my ear, its rhythm oddly soothing.
"You don't have to pretend with me, Nyx," he murmured into the darkness. "Not ever."
His simple statement unraveled something inside me. I'd spent my entire life pretending—pretending I didn't care about being replaced as heir, pretending I was satisfied with my diminished role, pretending I didn't feel the sting of my father's disappointment.
"I'm not pretending," I whispered back unconvincingly.
His hand found mine in the darkness, fingers intertwining with gentle pressure. "Sleep," he said softly. "We'll figure it all out tomorrow."
Within minutes, I was asleep.