Chapter 62

Princess Elowen Starfire.

My body reacted before my mind could understand; the light, gentle touch sent an electric wave through my body, and my eyes widened, turning immediately toward him.

Aric looked at me with an intensity that disarmed me. His fingers were firm but careful, as if he were afraid of hurting me even more. And there was something in that touch—something that burned, pure, alive.

My eyes met his.

And there… there was a moment of silence between us. A moment that seemed to last for hours. My senses were scrambled, my breath faltered, and for a moment, it wasn't me there; it was something else.

Another presence, silent, dormant, but alert.

My wolf.

She hadn't fully awakened yet; I knew that, but she was there. Inside me, hidden, watching. And now she was stirring. She could feel Aric. She could feel his wolf.

What was that? That heat, the eagerness that seemed to consume me from within, the insane desire to get closer to him…

Why did my body seem to beg for something my mind denied?

I wanted to scream, tell him to go away, run away from what I didn't even know was, and remind us both that this was just an agreement.

But Aric remembered that before I did.

“I'm your husband, even if it was a political agreement. It doesn't matter how it started. I'm here now, and you're not going through this alone.”

Words that still hurt like swords stuck in my heart.

I didn't say anything.

Nothing.

No words came out.

He told me to be strong—for him, for Aeloria, and for me.

He said he would take care of my wounds. And I couldn't say anything; I just nodded slightly.

Aric then took my hand, guided me, and started walking.

We began to walk through the corridors of the castle, his steps decisive, leading me through the palace with a clear destination, and I didn't bother to refuse; I had so much to think about.

As I was guided by him, my soldiers just looked at me and bowed when they saw me, I just shook my head saying that it was all right. We passed the room and went up the stairs slowly. Aric always looked back, looking at me, to see if I was okay. And, in fact, I didn’t even know how I was feeling right now.

It was confused to tell the truth.

We entered a guest room with a dimly lit fireplace and a wooden chair near the bed. He let go of my hand, and I immediately missed that warmth. Aric rummaged through a small cabinet in the corner and found a basin, filled it with warm water, and took a clean cloth.

Then he turned to me.

“Sit down,” he asked.

I obeyed without protest, sitting down on the chair with my muscles tense. He kneeled in front of me, wet the cloth, and began to clean the wounds on my arms with care that overwhelmed me. His movements were slow, precise, almost reverent.

He didn't say anything, but his every gesture spoke volumes.

All I could feel was the wet, warm cloth on my skin, cleaning my minor wounds.

When he cleaned my hand, he looked at me for a second and then continued. The cloth touched my face, where there were a few scratches, and he stopped. His lips pressed tightly together, as if he hated what he saw, as if seeing my blood was more than he could bear.

My eyes met his.

My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I was afraid he could hear it.

But he did hear it, and I heard his too.

Loud, his heartbeat moved me, made me lose focus, my mouth salivated, my breathing quickened, and my eyes didn't stray from his for a second.

Our hearts were racing.

I couldn't do anything, not even move or speak at that moment.

Why? Why did he feel this way? Why did it all seem so… real?

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” Aric asked, his voice low and tense.

I shook my head. What I was feeling now wasn't physical pain.

What I wanted was for him to come closer; I wanted to smell his scent, closer to me.

Aric touched my cheek with his fingertips; his eyes narrowed, filled with guilt and something else—something that disturbed me.

“I should have gotten here sooner,” he said, sighing deeply.

He bit his lip hard, muttering.

His voice came out hoarse and choked, and then he moved closer. Close enough for me to feel his breath against my skin. His face was in front of mine, too close.

What the hell? He had to get away.

Now I could smell his delicious scent; his heat was everywhere; I felt like I was boiling; I wanted to touch him.

My wolf, not awake, cried out for Aric, for her wolf, and that? It drove me crazy.

My instincts screamed for me to back away, to remember what we were: allies for a throne, nothing more.

I swear I tried to back away, to look away, but his eyes were shining at that moment. Aric was calling me.

His eyes studied my entire face, my eyes, and my lips, and then he moved closer, making me feel awkward.

But I couldn't; my eyes couldn't look away from his, and his mouth, which was slightly open, seemed like an invitation. And that was dangerous.

My heart was beating fast in my chest. I felt my whole body burning.

My mouth opened slightly, and that's when I felt Aric's feverish lips on mine.

My eyes closed at the same time. I could smell him all around me and feel his warmth; my mouth went numb when I felt his warm lips on mine, moving slowly.

And at that moment… everything I thought was true began to crumble.

Aric was kissing me; it was really real… I could feel his lips on mine.