FORTY FOUR

FORTY FOUR
CIARA'S POV

I woke up slowly, the kind of gradual climb to consciousness where dreams and reality blur together. Something warm pressed against my palm. My fingers were intertwined with someone else's.

Darragh's.

My eyes flew open. Morning light filtered through the cheap hotel curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

Darragh sat on the floor beside my bed, his back against the wall, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. Fast asleep. One arm stretched up to the mattress where his hand held mine.

Had he held my hand all night? Why would he do that?

I studied our linked fingers. His hand dwarfed mine, callused in places I wasn't. My pulse quickened, and I pulled my gaze away, looking instead at his face.

He seemed younger in sleep. The sharp edges of his usual expression softened, his dark eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. I'd never seen him so... unguarded.

Carefully, I slipped my hand from his. He didn't stir. I slid off the bed and crouched in front of him, my legs still stiff from sleeping in my clothes.

My wet clothes. That explained the slight chill I felt, though the room was warm enough.

I turned my attention back to Darragh. Up close, I could see hints of his mixed heritage in his olive skin, the natural curl pattern of his hair now that his shower had washed away whatever product he usually used. A day's worth of stubble darkened his jaw.

My eyes traveled lower, to the broad expanse of his bare chest. The towel he'd wrapped around his waist had slipped a little, but still preserved his modesty.

Barely.

His body was all lean muscle—the kind that came from actual use, not just gym workouts. My fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, to feel the rise and fall of his chest, to trace the lines of the tattoo on his forearm.

The same tattoo that marked him for death in my vision.

I swallowed hard, letting my gaze drift further down to where his abdominal muscles formed a perfect V, disappearing beneath the edge of the towel. Heat bloomed in my face and I jerked my gaze away.

What was wrong with me? I pulled the extra blanket from my bed and draped it over him, trying to be gentle.

"I can't look that tempting," Darragh said, his voice rough with sleep.

I gasped, one hand flying to cover my mouth. "You were awake?"

His eyes opened, golden brown in the morning light, fixed directly on mine. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Your heart was beating... pretty fast."

I shifted back, putting more space between us. "Really?" I put a hand to my chest. Sure enough, my heart hammered against my palm.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked, his smile growing more pronounced.

My cheeks burned hotter. "And what would you be implying, Alpha Byrne?"

He sat up on the floor, peeling the sheet off his body with deliberate slowness. Then he looked down at himself before meeting my eyes again. "I don't know. You tell me."

I scoffed, trying to look anywhere but at him. The words that would have put him in his place never made it past my lips because suddenly, I sneezed.

Darragh was on his feet in an instant, the blanket forgotten. He crossed to me in two quick strides and pressed his palm to my forehead. His hand was warm, almost hot against my skin.

"You're running a fever," he said, all teasing gone from his voice.

"It's probably just the wet clothes," I said, stepping back from his touch. My skin tingled where his hand had been. "I'll run a hot bath when I get home."

"Why not here?"

I looked at him funny and chuckled. "Maybe because I don't have spare clothes?"

"I didn't want to suggest it last night," he said, "but we can use the hotel's laundry service."

I hadn't thought of that. "And what do I wear while waiting for my clothes to dry?"

He pointed to a white button-up shirt draped over a chair. "I left that there yesterday. It's probably dry by now."

I nodded slowly. "Okay then."

The silence stretched between us, neither of us moving. His eyes never left mine, and something electric passed between us, making my skin prickle with awareness.

I'd spent my old life wondering whether years of hearing stories about mate bonds had any truth in it. How the connection was instant, undeniable. What I had with Ronan was completely different in retrospect.

Because standing there with Darragh, feeling the strange pull in my chest whenever he was near, I wondered how I had ever thought the plastic bond I felt for Ronan once upon a time was the real deal at all.

He took a step closer. "Ciara..."

My phone rang, shattering the moment. It was supposed to be off. But I remembered I timed it's on and off schedule. So no surprise there. Still, I grabbed it from the nightstand, grateful for the distraction. "It's my mom," I said, looking at the screen.

His expression changed instantly. "Answer it."

I looked at my phone, then back at him. The worry in his eyes made my chest tighten. "It can wait."

"Ciara—"

"Just for a little while," I said, setting the phone face-down on the nightstand. "I need a shower first." I needed time to think, time to figure out what I was going to tell my parents about where I'd been all night.

Darragh frowned but didn't argue. "Fine. But don't avoid them too long."

I nodded, grabbed his shirt from the chair, and headed for the bathroom. "I won't be long."

The bathroom still held a hint of Darragh's scent—his shampoo, his soap. I turned on the hot water and let steam fill the small space, hoping it might clear my head. My damp clothes stuck to my skin as I peeled them off, leaving them in a heap on the floor.

I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water run over me. My muscles relaxed under the heat, but my mind kept racing. The vision of Darragh dying. My parents' own death as well.

Too much. It was all too much.

I heard a soft knock at the door. "Ciara? I'm taking your clothes to the hotel laundry. I'll be right back."

"Okay," I called back, my voice echoing in the small shower stall.

By the time I turned off the water, my skin was pink from the heat. I toweled off quickly and slipped into Darragh's shirt. It swallowed me whole, the hem falling mid-thigh, but it was clean and dry and smelled like him.

I wrapped my wet hair in a towel and opened the bathroom door, letting out a cloud of steam. Darragh sat on the edge of my bed, waiting. He'd managed to find a pair of sweatpants somehow, though his chest was still bare.

His eyes widened slightly when he saw me in his shirt, then quickly looked away. "They said your clothes will be ready in about an hour."

"Thanks." I sat on the other bed, keeping a safe distance between us. My phone buzzed again from the nightstand. I ignored it.

"Why are you still avoiding their call?" Darragh asked, his voice quiet but direct.

I sighed, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. "Ronan made sure to marry me in my past life because of my unique situation. An only daughter of a born Luna and Alpha, making me a born Luna as well."

Darragh's face remained carefully neutral, but I saw his jaw tighten at the mention of Ronan.

"This healer situation..." I continued, "If I confirm it, it worries me that it will just be another enticing tag on my back." I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "I never had an encounter with the Brotherhood of Fir in my past life."

He didn't say anything, just waited for me to continue.

I stood up and walked back to the bathroom, leaving the door open as I stared at the tub, still filled with warm water. I swirled my fingers through it, watching the ripples spread.

"I can't help but think the reason you might die in that vision is because of me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "A Luna with healer bloodline is impossible to ignore. Even for big packs." I turned to look at him through the doorway. "Take out the mate. Take the woman."

Darragh stood up, his expression fierce. "That will not happen."

I shook my head. "The future is hard to fight."

"I agree," he said, his voice heavy. He began pacing in front of the bathroom door. I watched his feet move back and forth in the gap beneath the door. "I have to tell you something then."

My heart sped up. "What is that?"

He stopped pacing, and I could almost feel him steeling himself on the other side of the door. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear him.

"There's something I haven't told you. About the past."

I stepped closer to the door."What is that?"

I saw him take a deep breath.

"I know who sent the demons after your parents."

"Who?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "Who was it?"