Chapter 29 He asked Lila to leave
Celine’s POV
Tristan stood framed in the doorway like a shadow made flesh.
Lila froze mid-step, eyes wide with disbelief. For a heartbeat, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me too. The silence stretched—thick, suffocating—until it felt like the walls themselves were closing in, as if his very presence was bending the air around us..
His aura seeped into the room, invisible but crushing—a storm pressing against my chest.
“Al… Alpha,” Lila whispered, bowing so quickly her voice trembled.
He didn’t answer. The silence was heavier than any words he could’ve spoken.
He took a step inside, his gaze a physical pressure against my skin. I could almost feel it like needles trying to pierce through my sweat glands.
If truly he was here—because I still didn't believe it—a mindlink did not extend to this extent, right?
If he was truly here, and it wasn't a form of mindlink, then what made him come?
I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell unless he said it. But he was taking his time, making us wait and watch him as though he’d put himself up for display. And this feeling that was starting to grow in me—I couldn't define it, but it was something to consider. I’d felt it during every moment of meeting him: when he first came into this room, outside under the full moon, in his room.
Was it fear?
I told myself no—how could I fear someone who’d seen me bare, who’d stripped me of both clothes and defenses? But the tremor in my pulse betrayed me. Maybe it wasn’t fear of him, but fear of what he made me feel. Something consuming, something that crawled under my skin and refused to leave.
Yeah, maybe it was fear—but only because he was the Alpha of this pack and nothing else.
“Tristan?” My voice came out smaller than I meant — fragile, uncertain.
He stopped mid-step, his head tilting, eyes unreadable.
His gaze found Lila. “Leave us.”
She didn’t move. Her hands twisted in her gown. “I—I’m supposed to stay with her.”
He took a single step forward. The floor creaked under his weight.
“You just disobeyed an Alpha,” he said quietly — too quietly.
“I…” Her voice broke. “Celine—”
“Leave.” This time, the word rolled out of him like thunder.
Lila stumbled back, pale as bone. The air itself seemed to tremble as she fled.
She stumbled backward, then fell. She scrambled up, gave me a last look, and ran out.
The tiny hairs on my body stood on end as that crazed look shadowed his face and sent shivers down my spine. Maybe I should have run like Lila did.
I’d seen him angry before—when he insisted he wouldn’t use my essence to cure his curse—but even with the will he’d shown then, it wasn’t like this. Never had his presence carried this much weight, this kind of chilling dominance.
“Celine.” My name in his mouth sounded too soft, too intimate.
He smiled, and the chaos inside me ignited—familiar, relentless, like a tide I couldn’t fight. Every inch he moved closer stole air from my lungs, pulling me toward him even as every instinct screamed to stay away.
He came closer, and the darkness seemed to deepen with him.
I tried to move back, shifting to the other side of the bed, but the wall blocked me, leaving no space except forward—toward him.
His smile widened, though concern flickered in it. “I heard you bled yourself unconscious.”
His white teeth caught the dim light, and for the briefest moment, I saw something—an echo of innocence, a boy lost behind centuries of shadows. But the illusion shattered as quickly as it came, devoured by the darkness that clung to him like a second skin.
““Celine.” His tone softened, but it didn’t soothe — it just pressed deeper. “I heard you fainted. That you were bleeding.”
I nodded. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” His smile faltered. “You nearly bled yourself unconscious, and you call that nothing?”
“Why do you care?” I shot back before I could stop myself.
He went still. Then — a ghost of a smile. “Because I should.”
He could do that?
Did that mean he cared? That he had a soft spot for me?
The thought almost made me laugh. People like him didn’t have soft spots—they had obsessions, things they wanted to own and cage. If he had a soft spot, it was probably the place he planned to bury me in, beneath his shadows and control.
And to think he’d managed to seduce me, to make me think of him all through the night because I’d heard his mistress moan to his touch.
“So are you?”
I didn’t blink. I hadn’t stopped thinking about escaping his presence.
“Celine?”
My hands hooked together under the blanket. I forgot I was supposed to respond.
His hands stayed behind him—maybe holding a knife? But his fangs would do better than a knife.
“Or you aren’t okay?” He came closer to the bed.
Please leave.
His eyes caught sight of my wrist as I uncovered myself.
“Bandages were used on you?” His smile faded.
“Yes.”
I shouldn’t believe he asked because he cared.
His hands came toward me, but I withdrew, avoiding his touch.
The look on his face—pure surprise, disbelief.
He chuckled and let his hands fall to his sides, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Still, he didn’t frown. I couldn’t read him well enough to tell what went on in his head—but if I had to guess, maybe disappointment?
Oh, please, just leave.
“Have you eaten?” he asked suddenly, as if pretending we were just two ordinary people.
I shook my head.
“Then eat with me,” he said. “The main dining room. Just us.”
I blinked. “Why?”
His lips curved. “Because I asked.”
The room seemed to shrink around that smile.
“No,” I whispered.
“No?” His voice lost its warmth, like the word offended him simply for existing.
He stood there, silent.
He sat on the edge of the bed — too close.
“Don’t,” I said, voice trembling before I could steady it.
He froze, eyes searching mine. For a second, I thought I saw regret — then it was gone, swallowed by the same darkness that always followed him.
“You think I’ll hurt you,” he said quietly.
“I don’t know what you’ll do.”
He looked away, jaw tight.
His energy changed again.
It brought back memories of the time I was trapped by those rogue wolves, before Colt had shown up to help me.
The same chill crawled up my spine.
I didn’t know why, but Tristan’s darkness felt like theirs—a perfect replica.
I saw his lips move, but couldn’t make out the words. The memories wouldn’t stop clawing through me.
“You look at me,” he murmured, almost to himself, “I didn't cause all this.”
Colt.
I swallowed hard. “Maybe you just remind me who did.”
His breath hitched — then silence, heavy and raw.
It wasn’t just about my parents’ deaths. I had too many chains and yokes bound to me. Too many troubles for me to hold together and still feel at ease.