Chapter 21 Caught Between Walls and Hands
Lyanna
“What are you doing here?”
I stared up at him, my heart still trying to punch its way out of my ribs.
I hadn’t heard him approach.
That alone chilled me.
One moment the corridor had been empty—stone, shadow, the distant scrape of boots I had been counting between breaths—and the next, Elias Veras was there, heat at my back, iron fingers locked around my wrist, my balance stolen before panic could even find its voice.
Again.
How did he do that?
He wasn’t built for silence. He was too tall, too solid, too present. And yet he kept appearing where I least expected him, as though the world itself shifted to place him directly in my path.
That should have been great if I knew what he wanted.
No sound. No warning.
My pulse skidded as I looked up at him. His face was close, gaze sharp and searching.
For what?
I swallowed.
I hadn’t expected to see him in the pens earlier that day. Hadn’t expected him to step between me and a noble from nowhere, his voice cutting cleanly through the space.
And I certainly hadn’t expected him to vanish immediately after, leaving Marek to handle the fallout with a look that had been equal parts impressed and deeply, deeply concerned.
Again, Marek had said, shaking his head while shuffling assignment slips: You’re collecting rescues at an alarming rate.
I’d tried not to listen when he leaned closer, voice lowered.
That wasn’t nothing, Mira. Men like him don’t do that unless they’re interested. You need to be smart about this.
Smart.
I swallowed now, back pressed to cold stone, Elias’s gaze pinning me more effectively than his grip ever could.
Marek’s words echoed whether I wanted them to or not.
He’s an alpha. He’s powerful. If he wants you, you use it. One night. That’s all it takes. Pass the child off as his—gods know no one will question it—and you’ll be protected. Maybe more.
My stomach had turned then. It turned again now.
Interest wasn’t safety. Novelty wasn’t mercy. And alphas didn’t need affection to breed.
I’d thanked Marek anyway. Ended the conversation before my face could betray me. Fear had a way of making itself visible.
Elias’s grip loosened.
I lifted my free hand quickly and signed.
I was assigned here.
His eyes flicked to my hands.
I continued.
I was looking for work.
The pause stretched.
Elias stepped back half a pace, giving me space but not relief. His gaze swept me.
Assigned by whom? he signed.
I hesitated just long enough to be believable.
I don’t question higher orders.
A lie, technically. I questioned everything. I just didn’t voice it.
His mouth tightened.
I shifted my weight, and pain flared hot and sudden along my thigh. I sucked in a breath before I could stop myself, shoulders tensing.
Elias saw it.
His eyes dropped to my leg. His hands twitched.
You’re hurt.
I shook my head automatically—then winced again when the motion tugged the muscle.
It wasn’t serious. I’d pulled something when the vine slipped, muscles screaming as I twisted to protect my belly.
It’s nothing.
His gaze sharpened.
What happened?
Before I could answer, footsteps echoed at the far end of the corridor. Voices. Guards.
Come with me, he said under his breath, hand closing around my wrist again. He steered me down a side passage before I could protest, his body shielding me from view.
~~
He brought me to a study.
I knew it the moment the door closed behind us—the smell of parchment and ink, the hush that came with rooms meant to be private. Shelves lined the walls, heavy with ledgers and rolled maps. A wide desk dominated the space, its surface neat to the point of severity.
My pulse stumbled.
For a heartbeat—just one—something cold slid through me.
A closed door. An alpha. No witnesses.
My body reacted before my mind could correct it, muscles tightening, breath going shallow—
Then my gaze snagged on the desk.
A map.
The fear loosened its grip, receding just as quickly as it had come, leaving embarrassment in its wake.
Gods. Get a hold of yourself.
Elias gestured to a chair. “Sit.”
I obeyed.
He crouched in front of me without ceremony, or hesitation. He reached for my leg, fingers warm and steady as he gathered my skirt just enough to see.
My breath caught anyway.
Cool air brushed the back of my knee, the curve of my calf. My body reacted before my mind did—muscles locking, spine stiffening.
Too exposed.
One of his hands braced my shin. The other slipped behind my knee, fingers spreading to test the muscle.
Warm. Calloused.
My pulse stuttered. I looked down at him and saw it all at once—my skirt pushed up, his shoulders blocking the light, his hands beneath my dress. Wrong. Dangerous.
His thumb pressed in, shifted, searching.
I flinched.
He froze.
Then he looked up.
Our eyes met, and something flickered across his face. Awareness. The sudden recognition of how this must feel. How it must look.
His gaze dropped immediately.
“Here,” he said, fingers pressing lightly. “And here.”
I nodded, jaw tight.
“Pulled muscle,” he concluded.
I didn’t answer. He released my leg at once, hands withdrawing as if the contact itself had become a mistake. He stood smoothly, already turning away. “Stay.”
He crossed the room and opened the door, issuing quiet orders to a guard outside—summoning a healer, instructing discretion, making it clear this was not a request.
My gaze returned to the map. From my corner, I memorized the river bends, estate distances, the stretch to the capital. If I knew the lay of the land, I could calculate routes, supplies, and timing for two.
Gods, could I really make that long a journey?
When the healer arrived, Elias positioned himself near the door, speaking in low tones. I watched him from the corner of my eye as the healer checked my leg.
“It is nothing of serious concern, my lord,” the healer finally announced, moving away from me. I thought as much, adjusting my skirt.
“She will be fine as long as she doesn’t strain,” the healer added.
Elias’s gaze sharpened. He glared at me when the healer mentioned “strain,” then signed the instructions to me.
As the old woman waddled toward the door, she paused. “Congratulations on the pup, my lord.”
My fists clenched in my lap. My stomach dropped.
He froze briefly, jaw tightening. “The child isn’t—”
“My lord,” the healer continued, oblivious, “she needs to eat more for the pup’s sake as well as rest.” She opened the door and began to step out.
Elias’s hand shot up, halting her. “Do not mention her—or the child—to anyone,” he said firmly, voice low but edged with steel. The healer gave a small nod of understanding, retreating silently.
I exhaled shakily. I couldn’t dictate what was rationed to omegas in the pens—Sera and Bina tried, but they could only do so much. Was I hurting my baby? I couldn’t look at Elias. I wanted to leave.
The door opened again.
“Oh.”
The voice was soft. Curious.
I looked up as another omega stepped inside.
Beautiful—there was no denying it. Fine linens in pale cream, hair braided intricately and pinned with silver. Her posture was relaxed, assured, untouched by fear. A noble, unmistakably.
She moved straight to Elias and slipped her hand into his with easy familiarity.
“Elias,” she said, brows lifting. “What’s all the commotion?”
I watched his face change.
The hard lines eased. His shoulders relaxed.
Is that his mate?
They looked right together. Balanced. Equal.
When he answered, his voice softened in a way it hadn’t for me at all.
“Nothing of importance.”
The words struck deeper than they should have.
I lowered my gaze, heat stinging behind my eyes. Nothing. I was nothing.
My mind betrayed me, drifting where I had not allowed it in weeks.
Rubin’s smile. His warmth. The gentleness he’d never had to force.
Gods, I missed him.
My vision blurred. I blinked hard, swallowing the ache before it could spill over.
When I looked up again, Elias was staring at me.
Something unreadable crossed his face, a faint crease forming between his brows. As if he’d seen something he hadn’t expected to find there.
The noble omega followed his gaze at last.
“Oh?” she said lightly. “Who’s this? I don’t think I’ve seen her before.”
Elias didn’t hesitate.
“She’s a servant.”
The words landed hard. Final.
Then, to me, without looking at me, he signed.
You’re dismissed.
Relief and humiliation twisted together in my chest.
I bowed and left quickly, not trusting myself to linger.
As the door closed behind me, my mind raced with what I’d gained.
A map. A measure of distance. Proof that Elias Veras was not indifferent—and that whatever held his attention now, it was no longer simple.