Chapter 63 A Bed Too Cold
Tiara pushed the door open with more force than necessary, the wooden panels slamming softly against the stone wall before settling back into place.
Damien followed her in silence.
The room they shared was large, it was meant for two Alphas or an Alpha and his Luna but tonight it felt far too wide, the space between them stretching like a wound neither knew how to close. The hearth glowed low, casting restless shadows across the walls. One bed stood at the center, broad enough to hold them both without effort.
Neither moved toward it.
Tiara crossed her arms, pacing once, twice, before stopping near the window. She stared out into the dark, where SilverShield’s torches flickered like distant stars. The pack was safe. Loyal. Strong.
She had given them everything.
Behind her, Damien removed his cloak. The soft rustle of fabric sounded far too loud.
“You don’t have to stay,” she said without turning. Her voice was steady, but it took effort. “There are other rooms.”
“I know,” Damien replied.
He didn’t leave.
That hurt more than if he had.
Silence settled between them, thick and awkward, weighted with all the words neither dared to say. Tiara felt him there, felt the bond humming faintly, restrained, like a heartbeat held just under the skin.
She turned at last.
Damien stood near the foot of the bed, hands flexing at his sides as if unsure what to do with them. His eyes flicked to her, then away, then back again.
“You’re exhausting yourself,” he said quietly. “You didn’t eat.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“That’s not true.”
Tiara let out a short laugh. “So now you know my body better than I do?”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean, Damien?” she asked, stepping closer. Not close enough to touch. but close enough to feel his warmth. “Because every time I look at you, I feel like I’m standing in front of a door you’ve locked from the inside.”
He flinched.
“That’s not fair,” he murmured, echoing his own words from earlier.
“Neither is this,” she shot back, her composure cracking. “We nearly died. I collapsed in your arms. And now we’re… strangers sharing a room.”
His gaze softened despite himself. “You’re not a stranger.”
“Then look at me,” she said.
He did.
For a moment, everything else disappeared, the war, the pack, the council, the prophecies. There was only the way his eyes traced her face as if relearning it, the way his breath changed when she stepped closer.
“I’m afraid,” Damien admitted quietly.
The confession startled her.
“Of me?” she asked.
“Of losing you,” he said. “And of what loving you might cost now.”
Tiara’s throat tightened. “I didn’t ask for this power.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t choose to change.”
“I know,” he repeated, more firmly. “That’s what scares me. You’re becoming something the world will try to tear apart. And I.” He broke off, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know how to stand beside you without becoming a weapon too.”
She reached out without thinking, fingers brushing his wrist.
The bond surged.
Heat flared between them, sharp and sudden. Damien sucked in a breath, eyes darkening as instinct roared to life. His hand lifted, hovering inches from her waist.
For one fragile second, Tiara thought he would pull her into him. Thought the bed would no longer feel so empty.
Instead, he froze.
And then he stepped back.
The absence of his touch felt like a physical ache.
“I can’t,” Damien said hoarsely. “Not tonight.”
Tiara let her hand fall.
“Because I’m Alpha?” she asked.
“Because you’re changing faster than I can keep up,” he replied, pain flickering across his face. “And if I touch you like that, if I let myself forget.”
“You’re afraid you’ll kneel?” she whispered.
His silence was answer enough.
Something inside her twisted, sharp and cold.
“Then don’t,” she said, turning away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me like that.”
She moved to the bed and lay down on one side, back rigid, eyes fixed on the wall. After a moment’s hesitation, Damien lay down on the opposite edge.
The space between them felt vast.
The fire crackled softly. Outside, the wind howled across the cliffs.
Tiara stared into the darkness, her chest tight. She could feel him there, every breath, every small shift of movement. The bond tugged at her, urging closeness, warmth, union.
She didn’t reach.
Neither did he.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
Then, quietly, Damien turned on his side. She felt the mattress dip slightly as he moved closer—not enough to touch, but enough that his warmth brushed her back.
His hand lifted.
Hovering.
Tiara’s breath caught.
For a heartbeat, his fingers grazed the air above her shoulder, trembling with restraint. She could feel his struggle, the war inside him louder than any battlefield.
Then slowly his hand dropped back to the bed.
He rolled away.
Tiara closed her eyes, a single tear slipping silently into the pillow.
The bed remained warm.
But it had never felt colder.