Chapter 28 A Warm Shower
DAHLIA’S POV
When Elder Sam had told me that Kael might still be able to claim his pups, a cold shadow had settled in my chest. The thought that my happiness might never be mine—completely mine—made my nights restless and my days heavy.
After a roller coaster of events we had the joyful birthday celebration yesterday like our life was perfect, when my children laughed and their tiny hands clutched at me for hugs and sweets, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, life had more to offer.
My pups were beginning to like dagnoth. It was nice and scary at the same time.
Tonight, however, was different.
I felt flushed, warm in a way that made my skin tingle uncomfortably. My body screamed for a bath, a moment of relief and solitude. But it was late. The palace was quiet. The maids had long retired to their quarters, leaving the halls and washrooms empty, echoing with the soft hum of distant wind and the faint flicker of candlelight.
I didn’t mind tending to myself. Independence had become second nature over the years, and I had learned to rely on no one but my own hands. The problem wasn’t the solitude. The problem was… him.
Dagnoth.
Every time I saw him, my thoughts betrayed me, spiraling back to that night I had tried so hard to bury. The memory of his presence, his voice, the way the world seemed to tilt whenever our gazes met—it was impossible to ignore.
Those green eyes… too powerful, too magnetic, too dangerous. They stirred something inside me I could never fully control, no matter how much I tried.
I paused at the doorway to the corridor, taking a slow, steadying breath. My lips moved in a whispered prayer.
“Please, Moon Goddess… let me pass tonight without seeing him. I’m not ready. Not ready for my heart to betray me again.”
Towel in hand, I stepped lightly toward the washroom, careful to keep my nerves contained. Each step felt measured, deliberate, as though the palace itself was aware of my tension and holding its breath.
Finally, I reached the washroom. Relief swept through me as I stepped under the cascading warm water. It soothed my muscles and quieted my mind, at least for a moment. My body felt alive, tingling under the heat, every drop of water washing away the exhaustion of the day—and almost, just almost, my fears.
I brushed my skin, rubbed oil into my arms, massaged my scalp as I lathered my hair, and followed with milk to nourish it. Each movement was a ritual, a small act of reclaiming myself in a world that had once sought to diminish me. For a brief, glorious moment, it felt like I was more than the scars and rejections I had carried for so long.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I wrapped a towel around myself and moved toward the door, the cool air brushing against my damp skin. My hands lingered on the edge of the luxurious doorframe, ready to return to the safety of my room.
And then I felt it—a presence.
My pulse stuttered.
Oh no…
I turned slowly.
There he was.
Dagnoth.
The moment my eyes landed on him, the familiar weight of his presence pressed down on me. He stood there in the doorway, tall, commanding, with an air of quiet dominance that had always unsettled me. His gaze—those green eyes—found mine immediately, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.
I looked away quickly, panic rising.
“Goodnight, Alpha,” were the only words I could utter, my voice shaking slightly as I tried to sidestep him. “I—”
Before I could finish, his hand closed over my arm. Firm, unyielding, yet not cruel. His other hand came up to tilt my face gently, forcing me to meet his gaze.
Water dripped from my hair, sliding down my shoulders. My heart raced violently, each beat echoing in my ears.
“I didn’t tell you to leave,” he said, his voice low and controlled, carrying the same dangerous calm it had held on the night we first came together. Yet beneath that calm lingered an edge, sharp and deliberate, a cold warning that made my chest tighten.
“It’s cold,” I murmured, my throat dry. “I need to get something on.”
His eyes moved over me slowly, deliberately, tracing the contours of my body with an intensity that made me shiver. His gaze lingeted on my boobs for far too long that I almost forgot I was wrapped in towels. It wasn’t a look of lust exactly—it was something deeper, more commanding, more… consuming.
A faint, almost barely noticeable smile curved his lips.
“I could warm you up,” he said.
The words hung between us, heavy and charged, impossible to ignore. My stomach tightened, and every instinct in me screamed to flee, yet another part—the part I had long tried to deny—quivered in anticipation.
I froze, unable to speak, unable to look away. His presence wrapped around me like a living thing, pulling me into a heat that was both thrilling and terrifying.
Even as I tried to remind myself of caution, the dangers, the history we shared, the pull of him was undeniable. He wasn’t just a man. He was a force, an energy I couldn’t fight or ignore, and in that moment, the world outside the washroom ceased to exist.
I swallowed hard, my breath hitching, and my wolf stirred beneath my skin, sensing the tension,
“That’s not your responsibility.”
My eyes were now fixed on him, unable to look away. His hands held me firmly—one pressed against my biceps, the other cupping my face—and I could feel the heat radiating from him, I was shocked by the physical touch but from some reason I just stood. My heart didn’t just race; it pounded violently, thumping so hard I thought the walls themselves could hear it.
A shiver ran down my spine, part fear, part something else I refused to name.
“I can make it my responsibility,” he said, his voice low and smooth, each word deliberate, confident.
And that smirk… that infuriatingly inviting smirk curved across his lips, daring me, teasing me, pulling me in. It was maddening. I hated it and yet couldn’t look away.