Chapter 37 ARIA
ARIA'S POV
Waking up feels different here.
Not softer—just… safer.
For a moment, I don’t move. I lie there listening to the quiet hum of the cottage, the faint creak of wood settling, the distant rustle of trees outside the window. My body feels heavy, warm, like it’s been wrapped in invisible layers of cotton.
Nyra stirs lazily in the back of my mind.
You slept, she murmurs, pleased. Good sleep.
“I didn’t mean to,” I whisper back, still half-lost in the space between dreaming and waking.
I remember Lucian sitting with me. The way he kept his distance even when everything in him seemed pulled tight. The way his voice stayed calm, steady—like an anchor.
I open my eyes.
He’s still there.
Lucian sits in the armchair opposite the couch now, one ankle resting over his knee, head tilted slightly as he watches me. He must have sensed I was awake because his gaze sharpens instantly, concern flickering across his face.
“Hey,” he says softly. “How are you feeling?”
I take inventory. My body feels… strange. Not painful. Not exactly pleasant either. Like something inside me is stretching, waking up after a long time asleep.
“Floaty,” I admit. “And kind of warm.”
His jaw tightens—but he nods. “That tracks with what Orion said.”
I sit up slowly, the blanket slipping down my shoulders. Lucian stands immediately, crossing the room but stopping short of touching me.
“Do you need water? Food?” he asks. “Or—space?”
The way he includes that last option makes something ache in my chest.
“Can you sit with me?” I ask. “Just… closer?”
He hesitates—only for a heartbeat—then sits on the edge of the couch, careful to leave room between us.
“Like this?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Nyra hums approvingly.
I breathe him in without meaning to. His scent is grounding—clean, warm, familiar in a way that makes my chest feel too tight. I tuck my hands into the sleeves of my oversized sweater to keep from reaching for him.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt suddenly.
Lucian turns fully toward me. “For what?”
“For earlier. At the house. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.” My cheeks burn as I look down. “I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”
He studies me for a long moment before speaking.
“Aria,” he says gently, “you don’t owe me apologies for something your body is going through. Especially not something I knew was coming.”
I swallow. “I just hate feeling like I’m not in control.”
“I know.” His voice softens further. “But you’re doing better than you think. You stopped. You recognized it. That matters.”
I risk a glance up at him.
“You’re not… upset?”
“No,” he says firmly. “I’m worried. Protective. Maybe a little terrified.”
That startles a weak laugh out of me. “You? Terrified?”
“Yes,” he says without shame. “Because I care.”
The words settle between us, heavy and real.
Nyra shifts, quieter now. He’s good, she murmurs. We are safe.
The sedative Orion gave me still lingers, dulling the sharp edges of everything. I lean back against the couch, suddenly tired again.
“Lucian?”
“Yes?”
“If it gets bad,” I say carefully, “you’ll tell me, right? If I’m… not myself.”
“I will,” he promises. “And I’ll stop it if you can’t.”
That should scare me.
It doesn’t.
The day passes slowly after that.
Lucian cooks—nothing fancy, just something warm and simple. He eats with me, even when I can tell he’s barely hungry. He keeps conversation light, asking about my favorite books, my friends, little pieces of my life that don’t hurt to talk about.
I don’t tell him everything.
Not yet.
But I tell him enough.
By evening, the warmth in my body has deepened. Not overwhelming—but insistent. I pace the living room while Lucian pretends very hard not to notice.
“Do you want me to leave the room?” he asks quietly.
“No,” I say quickly. Too quickly. Then I soften it. “Just… don’t hover.”
He smiles faintly. “I’ll try.”
Night falls early. The forest outside darkens, shadows stretching long and slow. I curl up on the couch again, and Lucian sits nearby, pretending to read something on his phone while clearly not absorbing a word.
My thoughts drift.
About what’s coming.
About what I’m afraid of losing.
About the strange, terrifying comfort of wanting someone this much.
“Lucian?” I murmur, eyes heavy.
“Yes, Aria.”
“Thank you… for choosing me even when it’s hard.”
He looks at me then—really looks—and something unspoken passes between us.
“There’s no choice,” he says quietly. “It’s always been you.”
I fall asleep to the sound of his breathing, steady and close, with Nyra curled peacefully inside my chest.
And for the first time since the heat began to stir, I don’t feel alone in it.