Chapter 30 LUCIAN
LUCIAN’S POV
I’ve fought wars with less discipline than this.
That thought lands sharp and unhelpful as I stand in the small kitchen of the cottage, hands braced against the counter, every muscle in my body locked tight. The groceries I brought are half-unpacked. A loaf of bread sits forgotten beside the sink. Somewhere behind me, down the narrow hallway, Aria is breathing.
I can hear it.
Every inhale, every subtle shift of her body registers like a strike to my nerves. Her scent, honeysuckle, warm florals, something sweet and dangerously soft has thickened since I walked through the door. It clings to the air, wraps around my spine, sinks into my skin.
Varos is pacing inside me, restless and alert.
This is not normal, he growls. She’s burning.
“I know,” I mutter under my breath.
I straighten and force myself to keep moving. Control is habit. Control is survival. I’ve lived most of my life wrapped in it so tightly it became second nature. Even now, especially now. I refuse to let instinct override consent.
Because this isn’t about want.
Gods help me, I want her. Varos wants her with a ferocity that makes my teeth ache, makes my blood run hot and heavy in my veins. Every part of me recognizes her as mine, recognizes the way her body leans toward me even when her mind hesitates.
But wanting is easy.
Protecting her is not.
I finish unloading the bags and move quietly down the hall, stopping just short of the bedroom door. It’s half-open. Light spills into the corridor, warm and soft.
Aria is sitting on the edge of the bed.
She’s wrapped in one of my shirts…mine, unmistakably so. The hem brushes her thighs, baring smooth skin already flushed with heat. Her hair is loose, damp from the shower, curling softly around her shoulders. She looks smaller like this. Vulnerable.
Dangerously tempting.
Varos snarls low in my chest.
Mate, he urges. She needs us.
I close my eyes briefly and breathe.
When I step into the room, her head lifts instantly. Our eyes meet, and something sparks, bright and volatile. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips parted slightly as if she’s been caught mid-thought.
“Hey,” I say gently.
She swallows. “Hey.”
Her voice is different. Softer. Thicker. My body reacts instantly, heat flaring low in my abdomen. I shift my weight, grounding myself.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
She hesitates, fingers twisting into the fabric of my shirt. “Warm. Restless. Like… my skin doesn’t quite fit right.”
Nyra stirs beneath her words. I can sense her presence now, faint but growing stronger. A second rhythm layered beneath Aria’s own.
“That’s expected,” I say calmly. “Orion warned me it would build in waves.”
Her gaze flickers down then back up, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”
The word hits harder than it should.
“You don’t apologize for this,” I say firmly, stepping closer but stopping a safe distance away. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Her scent spikes at that, emotions bleeding into the air. Relief. Fear. Something fragile and hopeful that tightens my chest painfully.
Varos quiets, attentive.
“Sit back,” I say softly. “I’ll get you some water.”
I turn before she can protest, grateful for the momentary distance. My hands shake slightly as I pour the glass, control fraying at the edges. When I return, she takes it with both hands, fingers brushing mine briefly.
The contact is electric.
She gasps softly. I freeze.
“You okay?” I ask immediately.
She nods, but her breath is shallow. “It’s just… when you touch me, it feels… louder.”
My jaw tightens.
“Then we keep it minimal,” I say. “For now.”
She nods again, clearly disappointed and that hurts more than I expect.
I sit in the armchair across from the bed, putting deliberate space between us. It’s an act of restraint that costs me more than I care to admit. Varos grumbles but doesn’t fight me.
You’re doing the right thing, he concedes reluctantly. But she will need us soon.
“I know,” I murmur.
The room settles into a quiet tension, thick and charged. Aria shifts restlessly, tugging at the hem of the shirt. I force my eyes away, focusing instead on her face.
“You can sleep,” I tell her. “If you want.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think I can.”
That doesn’t surprise me.
Heat is cruel like that, robbing the body of rest while demanding sensation. I reach into my pocket and feel the small bottle Orion gave me earlier. The pills rattle softly.
Sedative, he’d called it. Not a suppressant. Just enough to ease the edge.
“Aria,” I say carefully. “Orion gave me something that might help you rest. Only if you want it.”
She studies me for a long moment, searching my face. Trust flickers there hesitant but real.
“Okay,” she says quietly.
I hand her the pill and watch as she swallows it with a sip of water. My chest eases slightly.
“Lie down,” I suggest. “I’ll stay right here.”
She does, curling onto her side, back facing me. I resist the urge to close the distance, to press myself against her warmth and breathe her in.
Minutes pass.
Her breathing gradually evens out, tension easing from her shoulders. The scent in the room softens—not gone, but less sharp. Relief washes through me so powerfully I have to sit back, eyes closing briefly.
Varos settles.
She’s resting, he says. Good.
I stay like that for a long time, listening to her breathe, memorizing the sound like a lifeline.
And somewhere between one breath and the next, my mind drifts.
To the council meeting earlier that day. To Malrik’s thinly veiled barbs, the way his eyes had lingered too long, calculated and cold. To Darius’s report rogues attacking him while Malrik conveniently vanished into the night.
Too many coincidences.
I’d brushed it aside then, too focused on getting home to Aria. But now, with the cottage quiet and my mate vulnerable, the unease returns full force.
We will deal with him, Varos rumbles. Later.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Later.”
I glance back at Aria, peaceful in sleep despite the storm brewing beneath her skin.
I made a promise to her.
I intend to keep it.
Even if it costs me everything.