Zayne
I knew the heat would return, but this time I was determined to be better. I wouldn’t add to her pain. It would have killed me to leave her, but I would have done it if she had asked. Her small, trembling plea was my undoing.
I was determined to make this time different, better.
I wanted her to feel how important she was, how beautiful, how much I already cherished her.
I took my time, using my mouth and my fingers to drive her pleasure higher and higher.
I wanted her to be lost in the heat and the pleasure, far from the fear of her past.
When I entered her, I was careful to let her adjust, not pushing her, but my body trembled with the force of my restraint. She felt so right, so perfect. I groaned softly and rested my forehead against hers.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, “I’ve got you, just let go.” And she did. The sight of her surrender, of her pleasure, was the most wondrously beautiful thing I had ever seen. I felt her muscles clenching and fluttering around me, and it drove me over the edge.
And that’s when it happened. I saw her eyes widen. I felt the power of her wolf, peeking out from the shadows, and I felt her shock and confusion.
“What was that?” she whispered, her eyes wide. A smile broke across my face, sharp and overwhelming with relief.
“That was your wolf, little one,” I said, gently disentangling our bodies and rolling off her. I settled on my side, propping myself up on one elbow and looking down at her.
“My wolf?” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “But I don’t have a wolf.” I sighed and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.
“You do have a wolf, Lysaria,” I began. “She’s in there somewhere. She's just been hiding.”
She stared at me as if I had grown a second head.
How could I make her understand? I sighed again, sitting up and pulling her with me.
I settled us comfortably against the headboard and reached for the plate of food I had left on the nightstand.
“Here, you need to eat,” I said, setting the plate on her lap. She looked startled for a moment, then lifted a piece of bread, watching me like she thought I would take the food back. I closed my eyes for a moment; the thought of her being denied was like a knife in my heart.
“I spoke to one of our elders, a friend of mine, someone I trust explicitly,” I started to explain. She looked at me sharply but didn’t speak, taking another bite of the bread.
“He told me that he’s seen a situation like ours once before,” I said, as gently as I could.
“There was someone else who lost their wolf?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. I nodded.
“He said that the wolf wasn’t gone. She's not lost, Lysaria, she’s just hiding. She was trying to protect you—the core of you—from everything you were forced to endure.”
She looked away, trying to hide the tears that traced down her cheeks.
She clutched the sheet to her chest, and her cheeks blazed.
I got up and retrieved the discarded robe, gently laying it over her shoulders.
Then I pulled my own clothes on and sat in the chair, giving her space.
“Are you sure?” she asked once she was covered again. I nodded, my eyes meeting hers, my expression open and honest. I wouldn’t hide things from her.
“You felt her, Lysaria, and I did too,” I said, trying to reassure her. “She can sense that you are safe here. I’m sure we can coax her out again. You could even shift someday.” She looked at me, and now the tears did flow.
“Me, shift?” she whispered. Then she buried her face in her hands and sobbed, her shoulders shaking with the force of her cries.
I didn't want to scare her, but I couldn’t ignore her pain.
I rose from the chair, quickly crossing the distance between us.
I sank to the bed and took her into my arms.
I pulled her against my chest, cradling her and stroking her back.
I didn’t speak, didn’t shush her, simply held her and waited for the storm to pass. She clung to me, her fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt, her face pressed into the curve of my neck. She trembled and she shook, the force of her sobs tearing my heart out.
I held her through it all, and eventually her sobs slowed, dissolving into little hiccupping cries, then fading away all together. I held her, stroked her back, her hair, her hip.
“Better?” I asked, when she looked up at me, her eyes red and swollen from the tears. She nodded, sniffing delicately.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I told her, wiping the tears from her face with my thumb.
“I’m here to help. We’re in this together, little one.”
She sighed and relaxed against me, and the breath I hadn't realized I was holding finally escaped me.
But I had to tell her all of it. I couldn’t keep it from her.
“Do you know what the purpose of the heat is?” I asked her. She shook her head.
“No one ever talked to me, and even if they had, they wouldn’t have told me those things. I didn’t need them; I don’t have a wolf,” she said, twisting her fingers together in her lap.
“You do have a wolf,” I said, a little sharper than I meant to, making her flinch. “I’m sorry, Lysaria, I don’t want to scare you, but you do have a wolf. Never forget that.” I held her gaze until she nodded slowly.
“The heat’s ultimate purpose is to ensure reproduction,” I said, pulling back just enough to see her face, which was pale, her eyes wide.
“Reproduction?” she repeated, her hand pressing against her flat stomach.
“I know,” I replied with a grimace. “While I’m not opposed to the idea, I would prefer to have time, to convince you to trust me. Please believe me, Lysaria, if I could fix this I would, but there’s no way to stop a heat.”
She looked down at her hands in her lap, and I could feel the tension in her slight frame.
“You could let me go,” she whispered. “I’m sure you would bond with a real wolf eventually, if I weren’t here anymore.” My wolf howled in pain at her words.
“No!” I snarled before I could stop myself. She flinched, and I instantly regretted it.
I cupped her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. “I don’t want another wolf, Lysaria. I want you. All of you. Every broken piece. Do you understand?” She looked at me, studying my face, but then she nodded, and the world felt right again.