Chapter 93 Him and power.

Chapter 93 Him and power.
Sasha.

“Take me to him.”

We walked for a while until I reached the garden.

There he stood, backing us, his hands tucked into his pockets as he stared into space. Lost.

“You can leave us. No matter what, do not disturb us.”

The guard bowed and walked away.

My voice made Brian turn around slowly.

He could never look less hot to me. Even now, he looked like he had not been eating well.

I drew closer to him.

“Brian,” I called out softly.

A small, sad smile appeared on his face.

“Brian,” I said out of habit.

“You look… too good.”

Those were the first words that came out of his lips.

I smiled.

He, on the other hand, wasn't looking pleasant. A stubble had formed on his usually clean-shaven face.

His eyes had dark circles beneath them.

“You've not been resting.”

“I will now. Knowing you are okay.”

I swallowed.

His eyes fell on my legs, and his smile dropped.

“Why are you barefoot?” he asked softly.

I shook my head. My mind went blank for a minute.

“Come here.”

His voice healed me, slowly. Surely.

Like hypnotism, my legs moved at his command until I was in his broad arms.

He was the exact replica of his brother, but this one was mine. All mine.

No Monroe. No curse. No title.

Just mine.

I breathed in his scent. The slight hint of mahogany wafted into my nostrils, soothing me.

For a minute, I forgot what I shouldn't.

Without warning, I was in the air. He lifted me effortlessly and walked to the garden bench, placing me down slowly.

“You were hurt,” he said, observing the gash that had already healed, yet no one else cared enough to notice.

“I'll wash it when I head in.”

“That won't do.”

He sighed and got to his feet.

“Wait a moment.”

He rushed out, leaving me in the wake of his touch. The feeling still clung to me the way it usually did whenever he touched me.

A while later, he came back with a porcelain bowl and a white towel.

He bent down and gently cleaned both my legs.

My legs weren't dirty at all, though the dried blood from the rejuvenation had clung to me.

Carefully, as if protecting something so fragile it would break at the slightest mistake, he washed my legs.

One at a time.

The sensation of his fingers sent unfamiliar feelings through me.

My wolf stirred at the back of my head, reminding me of the bond between us.

He was my mate.

We both knew it.

Before I met Zyle, Brian had been the one who saw me screaming for my father's help when I got my feet trapped in a puddle.

I was five at the time.

Brian had laughed at me even though he didn't know who I was, but he still pulled me out.

Dad and Mom had laughed along.

Tracy too.

At first, I hated him for making me feel so embarrassed in front of my family.

Years passed, and somehow, the hate became something else.

Something I had tried harder than I could to deny.

But by my eighteenth birthday, I had the shock of my life.

The shaman called me out to become the Luna of the kingdom.

Zyle had been Brian in another form. Less joyful. Less playful.

And the look Brian always gave me was something I never saw in Zyle's eyes.

But Mom had said something to me when I was skeptical about the arrangement.

“You can have anyone and anything you want if you are the Luna. Power beyond that of your dad.”

That stuck with me for years.

And even if I knew Brian never had the chance to become Alpha of the pack, I wasn't ready to give up the Luna title.

The power.

The fear I instilled.

No.

I could never let it go.

Yet I didn't want to let him go either.

“Brian?” I asked.

A small affirmative sound came from his throat. Deep, husky, yet calm.

“Why am I so power hungry?”

He paused.

“Aren't we all?”

His low voice tingled in my ears.

I chuckled.

He knew the words that got me.

“Well, are you?”

A small smile spread across his lips.

“I only want you. That's hunger enough, right?”

I hated how my cheeks flared red, blood flooding to them and embarrassing me.

But I didn't have time to be embarrassed before he leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.

I had missed him.

I had been too carried away with making sure everything went according to plan with Zyle, with securing my position, that I hadn't realized I was missing out on life itself.

I kissed him back, pouring all the emotions I had buried into that one moment.

The frustration.

The loneliness.

The anger.

Everything.

When we finally pulled apart, we stayed close, breathing heavily as though we had both forgotten how to breathe.

His green eyes searched mine.

Then his hand came to my hair, gently stroking the strands.

“Did he hurt you?”

His voice was soft.

I shook my head.

Tears stung my eyes, threatening to let loose.

He slowly sat beside me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders.

“I'm here now.”

I let the tears fall.

“I'll be here for as long as you wish.”

I nodded and rested my head against him.

For once, the world seemed quiet.

The chaos inside me settled into a tiny flame.

Light.

Soft.

Like a promise he would never leave.

I took him there.

In the open, where anyone could burst in on us.

But I didn't care.

Goddess, lend me some time of peace, will you?

Why did I hold onto this power so desperately?

Maybe it was because Wolsh had looked me dead in the eyes in the ladies' bathroom, cow blood dripping from my head to my toes, and said,

“Your father is the only reason you have a name in the pack. You can't amount to anything being a daddy's apron.”

I had gone too far to stop the deal.

I'd rule Lycos, and Wolsh would observe me from her grave.