Chapter 60 Something's wrong
Ruel’s POV
The Library feels smaller than it ever has. Tonight the air is thick and unmoving, stale enough that it presses against my lungs, as if the walls have drawn closer to watch.
I sit at the desk with three beta physiology texts spread open before me, their pages crowded with scraps of parchment and half-scribbled notes, but the words refuse to settle.
I’ve read the same paragraph four times, tracked the same line with my finger, and still couldn’t tell you what it says.
All that stays with me is the memory of her mouth on mine.
All that echoes in my head is Krist’s low, satisfied chuckle circling my thoughts.
“Now I'm the problem? You were the one who kissed her,” he says, his voice rough with pleasure. “Finally, you can stop pretending you don't like her.”
I snap the book shut harder than necessary. The sound cracks through the quiet, and a thin cloud of dust lifts into the air. “Be quiet. Liking a kiss and liking the owner of the lips are completely different.”
“You honestly sound funny.” Krist chuckles. “You were hard, Ruel. We both know you weren't only going to take her lips if there wasn't an interruption.”
I drag a hand down my face, as if I can wipe away the memory. The softness of her lips, the sharp hitch of surprise in her breath that turned into something needier the moment I deepened the kiss.
My palm still remembers the warmth at her throat, the frantic pulse jumping beneath my thumb. One heartbeat I was furious over the strange mark on her skin, and the next I was devouring her like a starving animal that had finally been let loose.
And then she disappeared… Ran away leaving me aching on the floor.
The anger hasn’t left me. It coils tight in my chest, aimed at myself, at Krist, at whatever it is that cracked open inside me and let it happen at all.
The suppressant should have stopped this. I’ve taken three doses today alone. That's more than I ever have in a day but all it has given me is a pounding head and a hunger that refuses to disappear.
The pain settles into my skull in a steady, punishing rhythm, yet it’s nothing compared to the pull in my ribs, the demand that I go find her, that I claim what's mine, that I finish what we started.
“Get a grip Ruel, stop thinking about her.” I snap at myself. “It was just a darn kiss. A little exchange of saliva, nothing more.”
“Wow, you're really great at this try-to-be-a-bigger-coward challenge.” Krist bites.
But I stay silent and reach for another book. This one is older, its cracked leather binding is badly torn but from the description, it was written by a scholar who's now long dead, a man who devoted his life to the study of beta werewolves.
I flip to the section on partial shifts and merged consciousness and scan the page, already knowing what I’ll find. Nothing new. Just the same tired lines I’ve memorized over the years.
Betas do not possess the dominance required for mid-shift forms. Such gifts are exclusive to Lycan Alphas.
A stronger and superstitious kind of werewolves. They are stronger than the regular alpha. They are believed to be the only kind of werewolves to attain mid-shift without losing their senses.
I’ve always known I’m strong for a beta. I've always been faster, tougher, harder to put down.
But I've never been strong enough to disrupt the order of things. Never strong enough to threaten the hierarchy or draw the Alpha King’s personal attention negatively.
Until now.
Krist stirs, restless beneath my skin. “You felt it too,” he says. “When we merged to protect her. We weren’t just beta then.”
I ignore him and reach for the next volume, but my hand hesitates when my fingers brush against a thinner book tucked deep at the back of the shelf.
I’ve avoided it for years, pretending it wasn’t there. The spine reads Alpha Manifestations and Rare Dominance Traits.
I’ve never opened it. I never needed to in all my years at the base. Yet tonight, I pull it free anyway.
The cover is heavier than it should be when I set it on the desk, and I find myself staring at it like it might bite if I’m not careful.
“What the hell are you doing? You can't possibly be looking for similarity to your reaction in a book meant for alphas.” I mutter to myself but still proceed to open it.
A knock breaks the silence.
“Come in.”
The door opens slowly. Elric steps inside but doesn’t cross the room. He stops just past the threshold, one hand still resting on the latch, as if he hasn’t decided whether he belongs here.
He looks tired. His uniform is neatly worn as always, every line in place, but there are shadows beneath his eyes that I hadn't seen before.
“You missed evening rounds,” I say, keeping my voice even.
“I sent Ben and Cortis in my place.” He closes the door but remains near it. “I thought you might want space after… earlier.”
Earlier?
He's talking about the merge. About Ira.
I lean back in my chair. “I’m fine.”
He nods, but his gaze drifts to the open books before me, then back to my face. He doesn’t come any closer.
Something’s wrong.
Elric and I have shared tents on battlefields, dragged each other out of rogue ambushes, and drunk ourselves stupid after missions. He’s never hovered near a door like a nervous recruit on his first day.
“Sit,” I say, gesturing to the chair across from me.
He hesitates before shaking his head. “I can’t stay long.”
It’s a weak excuse, and we both know it.
Krist growls low. “He’s pulling away.”
I clench my jaw. “What’s going on?.”
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nothing. Just… a lot on my mind.”
He’s lying. I can smell it. The faint sour edge of unease beneath his usual steady scent.