Chapter 34 LUCIAN
LUCIAN’S POV
The night doesn’t sleep.
Neither do I.
The forest presses in around the cottage, alive with quiet things, wind moving through pine needles, distant owls, the subtle pulse of the land that I’ve known since childhood. Normally, it steadies me. Tonight, every sound feels sharpened, tuned to one singular presence inside the house.
Aria.
She’s asleep now. Finally.
The sedative Orion gave me worked but only after hours of restlessness, after pacing, after whispered apologies she didn’t need to give. When sleep finally claimed her, it was abrupt, like her body simply gave in where her mind refused to.
I sit at the small wooden table in the living room, my back straight, elbows braced, a mug of untouched coffee cooling between my hands. I can hear her breathing from the bedroom down the hall. Soft. Uneven. Real.
Too real.
Varos shifts uneasily inside me.
This is worse than battle, he mutters.
“I know,” I reply silently.
In battle, there is an enemy. A direction. A way to win. This, this is restraint. This is patience sharpened into something painful.
I scrub a hand down my face and lean back, staring at the ceiling beams. I built part of this cottage with my father, years ago, before everything fractured. It was meant to be a place of rest. Somewhere pack politics couldn’t reach.
Life has a cruel sense of irony.
My mind drifts back to the meeting the council chamber thick with tension, Malrik’s voice oily and persistent, the way doubt had been dressed up as concern.
Are you truly committed this time, Alpha?
Can we trust you won’t disappear again?
I tighten my grip on the mug until ceramic groans faintly.
I didn’t disappear.
I was bleeding.
Darius had stood beside me, silent but solid, his presence a quiet warning. And later away from the council table his report had been worse.
Rogues. An ambush. Malrik slipping away in the chaos.
Suspicion coils in my gut now, slow and venomous.
I rise and move to the window, scanning the tree line out of habit. Nothing stirs beyond the ordinary. Still, I mark escape routes, vantage points, weaknesses. Old instincts die hard.
Behind me, the floor creaks softly.
I turn instantly.
Aria stands in the hallway doorway, wrapped in one of my old shirts, hair loose around her shoulders. She looks smaller like this. Softer. And far too pale.
“Did I wake you?” I ask quietly.
She shakes her head. “I woke up on my own.”
Her voice is subdued, stripped of its earlier brightness. My chest tightens.
“Are you in pain?”
“Not exactly,” she says, hesitating. “Just… restless.”
I nod and gesture to the couch. “Come sit. You don’t have to be alone.”
She crosses the room slowly, like she’s afraid of her own body betraying her again. When she sits, she leaves a careful space between us.
I don’t comment on it.
For a while, we just exist. The fire crackles softly. Outside, something howls far away answered by another voice even farther still.
Aria shivers.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs. “And terrifying.”
“That’s the wild for you,” I say. “Honest, at least.”
She glances at me. “You think people aren’t?”
I consider that. “I think people learn to lie when honesty costs too much.”
She hums softly, like the thought resonates deeper than she wants to admit.
After a moment, she asks, “Are you angry?”
The question catches me off guard.
“No,” I answer immediately. “Why would I be?”
“With me,” she says, staring at her hands. “For earlier. For… losing control.”
I shift closer not touching, but near enough that she can feel the truth in my presence.
“Aria,” I say firmly. “Nothing you did angered me. It scared me because I don’t want you hurting yourself, or blaming yourself for something that isn’t a failure.”
Her eyes glisten.
“I hate feeling like this,” she whispers. “Like my body is louder than my mind.”
I inhale slowly. “You’re not broken. You’re responding to something you were forced to suppress for too long.”
She swallows. “Orion said it might get worse before it gets better.”
“He did,” I confirm. “And he also said you’re not alone in it.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, searching.
“You really mean that?” she asks.
“With everything I am.”
Nyra stirs faintly within her I can sense it, the echo of another presence brushing against Varos. Not hostile. Curious. Guarded.
Varos straightens, attentive but respectful.
She’s strong, he notes.
“I know,” I murmur aloud, not caring if Aria doesn’t understand the full meaning.
She smiles weakly. “You say that like you’re proud.”
“I am.”
The word settles between us, heavy and warm.
Eventually, her eyelids begin to droop again. The sedative hasn’t fully worn off, and exhaustion tugs at her relentlessly. I stand first, offering my hand.
“Let’s get you back to bed,” I say.
She hesitates only a second before placing her hand in mine.
Her skin is warm. Too warm.
I guide her down the hall slowly, acutely aware of every breath, every step. When we reach the bedroom, I pause.
“I can sleep on the couch,” I offer quietly.
She looks startled. Then… disappointed.
“No,” she says quickly, then blushes. “I mean if that’s okay. I just… feel safer knowing you’re there.”
Something in my chest gives.
“I won’t touch you,” I promise. “Unless you ask.”
She nods and crawls into bed, curling onto her side. I lie beside her, careful to keep space, my body rigid with restraint.
Within minutes, her breathing evens out.
She drifts back to sleep.
I stay awake.
Watching the moonlight trace her features, listening to her heartbeat slowly settle, I make myself a vowquiet, ironclad.
Whatever this heat brings.
Whatever it costs me.
She will come out of it whole.