Chapter 352 352
Sabine POV
It’s already bedtime, and I’m struggling to sleep.
I slept far too long during the day. My body feels faintly tired, but my mind is wide awake, thoughts looping endlessly. I’d helped bathe the children earlier Frédéric was utterly adorable, splashing and giggling in the shallow bath while I washed his soft blond hair. That baby smell clung to him afterward, made even stronger by the shampoo, sweet and comforting.
He’d been a little dream. As soon as Aurélie gave him his milk, he fell asleep in my arms, warm and heavy with trust.
Now, lying in bed, my feet tap restlessly where they hang just over the edge. She is stirring again not my wolf, not quite but something inside me urging, nudging, insisting that I check on him.
Maurice had been distant since returning with Damien. I didn’t know what had happened between them, but something had shifted. Damien had seemed quieter this afternoon. Humbled.
I’d have to wait until morning training to see if he kept his word if Maurice would really be the one training me from now on. His approach was gentler, more encouraging. And like anyone else, I preferred that.
I stay like this for a while, until the small voice in my head my conscience, perhaps wins.
Just check on him.
Even if he’s asleep, I can peek in. Make sure he’s resting. Not pacing. Not silently cursing me or my brother.
I slip from my room and creep along the hallway, careful and quiet. I don’t know who’s still awake, and the last thing I want is to wake the children. I move on tiptoes, slow and deliberate, until I stop outside Maurice’s bedroom door.
I’ve just tiptoed down the long corridor like an acrobat and now I hesitate.
Am I giving off mixed signals?
Or worse… confusing him as much as I’m confusing myself?
I shake the thoughts away and gather my courage, tapping lightly on the door before easing it open.
He’s on his bed, wearing only black boxers, a laptop resting on his thighs.
Heavens.
“Bee?” He sits upright instantly, startled, steadying the laptop. “Everything okay?”
“I can’t sleep,” I admit. “What are you doing?”
I step further into the room when he doesn’t tell me to leave, my gaze flicking briefly to the paused show on the screen.
“Emails. Catching up on pack matters.”
“What are you watching?”
“Some detective series,” he replies. “Bit gruesome.”
“I lived on a farm, Maurice. I know how sausages are made.” I chuckle, even though the memory still makes my skin crawl.
He smiles. “I can put a film on in the background, if you just want some company?”
“Okay…” I answer, relief slipping into my voice.
I hadn’t realized how much I feared being turned away though he would’ve had every right to. My brother and I had brought enough stress into his life already. I could tell by how rarely he smiled these days.
“Okay,” he says brightly, patting the space beside him and pulling the duvet back. His Hollywood smile makes an appearance, and something warm blooms in my chest knowing I caused it.
We settle beside each other lying is more accurate wrapped in a comfortable silence.
I’m tucked under the duvet while he sits on top of it, laptop balanced on his legs, head resting against the padded headboard. He scrolls through a list of films, asking which one I want.
I have no idea.
I haven’t seen anything new in six months. Back in my old apartment before the werewolf world shattered everything I spent my days binge-watching shows between workouts and visits to the rooftop bar. Now, none of these titles mean anything to me.
“That one,” I say, pointing to a film with an actress I vaguely recognize.
“Really?” He groans softly, sinking further into the bed.
“Hey, you offered. Put your show back on if you want I really don’t mind.”
“We can watch it,” he says. “I’m still doing emails anyway.”
Thirty minutes in, and I have no idea what’s happening.
I’m staring at the screen, but I’m not watching it. All I can think about is my left hand how close it is to him. It’s been that way for a while. If I move it, I might brush his elbow. Would that send tingles through him? Through me? Or do tingles only come from intentional touch?
I’m spiraling.
“How’s the movie, Bee?”
“Hm?” His voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
“What’s it about?”
“Oh… I don’t know. I haven’t been paying attention.” I glance at him. “You still doing emails?”
“I had a few to catch up on.”
“You get that many?”
“Well,” he chuckles, “usually a Luna helps with running the pack…”
He sets the laptop on the floor and shifts, lying on his side.
My eyes betray me, tracing the length of his body. Only then do I notice faint bruising across his chest. Without thinking, my fingers reach out, brushing over the marks.
“You’re hurt?” I gasp, anger flaring on his behalf.
“No,” he says calmly. “It takes a lot more than that to hurt me, Sab.”
He doesn’t ask me to stop.
And I don’t.
The rest of the movie passes unnoticed as we talk about the farm, about Didier trying to rescue a wolf that turned out to be Caroline. He tells me about his pack, about Maxime holding everything together in his absence, about how this place became a home to him long before it ever did to me.
At some point, he starts another movie. My eyelids grow heavy. I hadn’t been tired before but talking to him, breathing in his scent of cinnamon and coffee, has relaxed something deep inside me.
I feel it happening. I sense her testing boundaries again but I don’t fight it.
I’m too tired.
Too safe.
Too comfortable.
Just before sleep claims me, my body shifts on its own, curling toward him. My head comes to rest against his chest.
And for the first time all day, everything goes quiet.