Chapter 132 For now this is enough
DARIAN
He straightens, expression sobering. “All right,” he says slowly. “What is it?”
I meet his eyes. “You know what everybody is saying. You know what I am. How long I have.”
Adrian’s jaw tightens. “Don’t start that.”
“I’m not…” I stop, dragging in a breath. “I’m not asking for pity. I’m just saying... I want to make sure I do this right. That I give her the kind of life she deserves. However short it ends up being.”
He exhales hard, running a hand through his hair. “You always talk like you’ve already got one foot in the grave.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Bullshit,” he snaps, eyes flashing. “You’re still here. You’re still breathing. You just marked your mate, Darian. You think the Moon Goddess ties you to someone just to rip you away right after? You don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“I know enough.” My voice comes out lower than I intend, rough around the edges. “The curse doesn’t vanish because I found her. It just... slows. Maybe. But I can feel it, Adrian. Every time my heart stutters, every time the power slips just a little. It’s there. Waiting.”
He shakes his head. “You always were dramatic.”
“Not dramatic,” I mutter. “Just realistic.”
“Realistic would be letting yourself live without counting the hours.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
I huff out a weak laugh. “You sound like her.”
“Good. Maybe one of us will get through that thick skull of yours.”
Silence stretches between us, thick but not uncomfortable. The wind picks up, carrying the scent of pine and distant rain. My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin, uneasy with the talk of endings, craving her scent again, her warmth.
“I just want to make her happy,” I say finally, quieter now. “That’s all. No politics. No bloodlines. No gods-damned prophecy. Just... happiness.”
Adrian’s eyes soften. “You already do.”
“Not enough.”
“You think buying her fancy things will make up for it?” he asks gently.
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not what this is. I want to give her moments, not things. Something she’ll remember when…”
He cuts me off sharply. “Don’t.”
“Adrian.”
“No.” He slams his palm against the railing, the sound cracking through the morning air. “Don’t you dare talk like you’re a ghost already. You’re my brother. You’ve always been the one who never quits, never bends, never lets anyone else carry the damn weight. Don’t you start giving up now.”
I stare at him, caught off guard by the heat in his voice.
For once, he doesn’t joke. Doesn’t smirk. Just looks at me like he’s daring me to argue.
“I’m not giving up,” I say quietly. “I’m preparing.”
He exhales through his nose, frustrated. “You always were a stubborn bastard.”
“Runs in the family.”
That gets a reluctant smile out of him. “You remember when we were kids, and you used to drag me into the woods before sunrise just to ‘train my instincts’?”
I smirk. “You mean when you cried because a squirrel threw a pinecone at you?”
He glares. “I was seven.”
“And dramatic.”
He snorts. “Yeah, well, you’re making up for it now.”
We both laugh, the sound cracks the heaviness that’s been sitting between us. For a moment, it’s just us again, brothers before all the burdens that came later.
Adrian bumps my shoulder with his. “You know, for someone planning a picnic, you really know how to kill the mood.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not planning anything yet.”
“Well, you are now,” he says with a grin. “And lucky for you, I’m the expert.”
“Expert in what? Being insufferable?”
“Romance,” he corrects with mock indignation. “Ask anyone. I once made a witch cry with a bouquet of enchanted roses.”
“You also turned her cat purple.”
“Minor setback.”
I laugh under my breath. “I don’t think Iris would appreciate glowing roses.”
“Noted. No glowing flora. Maybe something simple; candles, music, actual food that doesn’t involve roasted deer and bloodwine.”
“Food I can handle,” I mutter. “Music, maybe.”
“Candles?”
I arch a brow. “You think I’m afraid of candles?”
“You are afraid of setting things on fire.”
“Because yoset things on fire.”
“One time!”
“Three times.”
He grins. “You kept count. That’s love.”
“Or trauma.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “You never shut up, do you?”
“Not when I’m on a roll.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “We’ll need blankets, a basket, maybe wine. Oh, and strawberries. Girls love strawberries.”
I raise a brow. “That’s the grand secret to romance? Strawberries?”
“Strawberries and effort,” he says with mock wisdom. “And you’ve already got the second part down.”
The sincerity in his tone catches me off guard. My throat tightens, but I cover it with a smirk. “If you’re trying to compliment me, it’s weird. Stop.”
He laughs. “Fine. Back to insults, then. Much safer ground.”
We linger a while longer, watching the mist lift off the trees. The world feels deceptively calm, like maybe, just for this morning, it’s allowed to be.
Adrian breaks the silence first. “You really love her, huh?”
I don’t answer right away. The truth is written all over me anyway; in the mark, in the way her name still hums against my chest. “Yeah,” I say finally. “I do.”
He nods slowly, a soft grin curving his mouth. “Then stop worrying about the rest. Just live. Be with her. Let her love you back.”
“I am.”
“Good. Because if you screw this up, I’m telling her all your embarrassing childhood stories.”
I groan. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me. I still have that portrait of you crying over a splinter.”
“I was five.”
“You were ten.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet you asked for my help.”
“Regretting it already.”
“Too late.” He pushes off the railing, stretching his arms. “All right, Romeo. If we’re going to pull this off, we’ve got a lot to do.”
I blink. “Pull what off?”
“The picnic, obviously. You think we’re just going to throw a blanket on the ground and call it a night? Please. I have standards.”
“Your standards include accidentally poisoning people with your cooking.”
“That was one time.”
“Twice.”
He grins, unbothered. “Come on, before you talk yourself out of it. The markets in the lower quarter open soon, and if we want the best wine, we have to get there early.”
I arch a brow. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“Adrian,”
“Nope. No backing out. You wanted help, you’ve got it.” He pats my shoulder with exaggerated cheer. “Now come on, lover boy. We’ve got a lot of shopping to do.”
I stare at him for a second, then shake my head, a low laugh rumbling out of me. “You’re impossible.”
“Correction,” he says, walking backward down the corridor with a grin, “I’m indispensable.”
I follow, still smiling, the weight in my chest lighter than it’s been in a long time. Maybe this is what living looks like; fleeting, imperfect, but real. And for now, that’s enough.