Chapter 47 What You Cannot Deny
Elias
She was sitting up now, my cloak pulled tightly around her, fingers gripping the fabric as if it were armor rather than cloth.
Her gaze snapped to me the moment I entered.
Sharp. Wary. Afraid.
I slowed my steps instinctively, raising my hands slightly.
Easy.
You’re safe.
Her grip tightened.
I could see it now—she had noticed.
Of course she had.
Her senses would be sharper than usual.
Which meant—
I forced my expression into something steady. Controlled.
I am not affected.
The lie came easily.
Too easily.
Even as my pulse betrayed me.
Even as that faint, warm shift in her scent curled through the air and settled low in my chest like a slow-burning ember.
I ignored it.
You’re safe with me.
Her eyes searched my face.
Suspicion lingered.
Good.
It meant she was thinking.
I continued, slower this time.
If you allow it… I can mask it.
A pause.
Scent you.
Calm it.
Her brows drew together in thought. Her lip caught briefly between her teeth.
My focus dropped—just for a fraction of a second.
A mistake.
My inner alpha surged immediately.
Soft.
Warm.
I dragged my gaze back up with visible effort, my jaw tightening.
Control.
She opened her mouth slightly—habit, perhaps—before signing.
The movement drew my attention again despite myself.
What would she sound like?
The thought came uninvited.
In heat—
I stiffened.
Disgust curled sharp in my gut.
I looked away briefly, exhaling through my nose.
You are not them.
The reminder was firm.
Necessary.
When I looked back, she had made her decision.
A slow nod.
Consent.
Something in my chest tightened unexpectedly.
I stepped forward carefully, every movement deliberate, giving her time to pull back.
She didn’t.
Didn’t lean in either.
Just… stayed.
Trusting me.
That, more than anything, steadied my hands. I caught sight of the faded healed mark at the base of her neck.
It has healed jagged and twisted. A forced break.
Suddenly, I was hit with the reminder that her mate had been killed in Drakovian soil.
A sudden flash of blood, a slender neck, had me tense up.
Gods, why am I reminded of that now?
I hesitated, what if she rejected the scent and that hurt her or the baby?
Mira noticed and shifted to look up at me questioningly. I could see the faint haze in her eyes and the sweat beading on her brows.
She was trying so hard to hold on.
I reached out, pausing just short of her shoulder—a silent question.
She dipped her head slightly.
Permission granted.
I closed the distance.
The moment my scent brushed fully against hers, the reaction was immediate.
My breath caught.
It was stronger up close.
Warmer.
Laced with something sweet and heady beneath it.
My control tightened like a vice.
Slowly, carefully, I let my scent settle—controlled, measured, enough to shield, not overwhelm.
Her shoulders dropped slightly.
Relief.
Good.
That was the goal.
Nothing else.
I stepped back first, ignoring the way my knees threatened to betray me and my inner alpha growled low in protest.
Distance was necessary.
“Good,” I murmured under my breath, though she would not hear it.
The day moved quickly after that.
Adjustments were made.
Guards reassigned.
Routes altered.
All under the guise of efficiency.
All for one purpose.
Keep her close.
Keep her unseen.
And when we rode, I positioned myself just ahead of her wagon, close enough that my presence blocked the worst of it, that my scent lingered where it needed to.
My jaw clenched.
At one point, she shifted, leaning faintly against the side of the wagon, her fingers pulling my cloak tighter around herself.
A small thing.
Inconsequential.
My grip on the reins tightened anyway.
I looked away first. Because if I didn’t—
I wasn’t entirely sure I would stop myself.
And that was a problem.
Was I protecting her?
Or myself?
From what I might become if I let this go any further?
The question lingered long after I tried to bury it.
~~~~~~
“You’re taking a risk.”
I didn’t need to turn to know who had spoken.
The voice was familiar.
Trusted.
Which made the words worse.
I glanced over anyway. The guard met my gaze evenly.
Then, with a faint tilt of his head toward the wagon.
“Is she worth it?”
My grip on the reins tightened.
“Mira,” he clarified, as though I needed it.
The name settled heavily in the space between us.
I didn’t answer.
Because the truth had already formed.
And I did not trust myself to say it aloud.