Chapter 9
Astareth Summit – West Wing Library, Dusk
The corridor was quiet, though not still.
Eris cradled a volume like a shield, but its weight was nothing compared to the one pressing against her chest. She had found the book she came for, but her mind was already lost to other pages, ones unwritten, unfinished, still aching to be resolved.
Kareon’s scent still lingered on her skin: earth and storm, impossible to forget.
The bond between them pulsed like a second heartbeat beneath her ribs, ancient, uninvited, and alive.
She didn’t want to understand it, but it didn’t care.
It simply existed, and it wanted. The spirits had spoken, and the pack had bowed. They called her chosen.
Destiny, sharp and sacred, pressed against her spine like a blade. Still, her thoughts spiraled around one name.
Stephan.
He had once been her anchor, until he let go. The echo of his rejection still throbbed, sharply.
But she knew him. He wouldn’t leave things broken. He would come. And the part of her that still bled wasn’t asking if. It was asking: What if? What if he hadn’t changed? What if he said all the right things, did all the right things…and still left her hollow again?
Then she felt it. A surge of emotion through the gift she never asked for: longing, guilt, jealousy. She turned sharply, and there he was: Stephan, disheveled and breathless.
His shirt was skewed, his hair damp from a sprint. His eyes locked on her like the space between them was killing him.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. The book slipped from her fingers and landed with a soft thud. They both bent to pick it up. Their hands brushed, and the world held its breath.
Heat shot up her arm as her lungs locked. She stood too quickly, as if his touch had seared her. He stayed low a second longer, then rose, measured in motion, though not in heart. He offered the book back to her, his gaze unreadable.
Her touch was a ghost, soft and fleeting, but it ignited everything he had buried: the sleepless night, the ache with no name. He swallowed it all, masked it in stillness, but it clawed at him, feral and relentless.
She hesitated, then took the book, careful not to touch him. “Thank you,” she whispered. She backed up until her spine hit the bookshelf. She was trapped.
Stephan didn’t move. Then his gaze dropped to the Lycan charm at her throat, catching the light. His heart stopped. His breath followed.
Kareon had stepped into the space Stephan left behind. Of course he had. He had touched her, held her. Maybe even more than that.
Images tore through Stephan’s mind, ones he did not want to see. He looked away, jaw clenched. He wanted to demand, to take, just to feel whole again. But he no longer had the right.
“A parting gift?” he asked. His voice was low and tight.
Eris’s fingers brushed the charm. “A reminder,” she said. Her touch lingered, like a wound that refused to heal.
His world fractured. He could not speak. The image of her turning to Kareon, finding comfort in someone else’s arms, gutted him. His father had taught him to hide everything. But here, with her, he wanted to bleed. He had no right to ask anything of her, but gods, it burned like betrayal.
He turned back, his voice rougher than before. “I know I failed you,” he said. “I broke your trust when it mattered most.”
She said nothing. Her silence unraveled him.
“After you left, I went to the Dragov archives,” he said.
“I needed to understand. To find something, anything, that could explain what I could not let myself believe.” Her gaze lifted.
“And I found her,” he said. “Seraphina. She showed me the truth. But more than that…she reminded me of what I should have always known.”
“What?” Eris asked.
“That I was meant to protect you,” he said. “And I will. I swear it.”
Her expression flickered, soft then guarded. Her eyes held what she would not say.
“That day I came to you with the truth,” she said, “the way you looked at me, right before I walked away…”
His throat worked, but no words came.
“That is when it happened,” she said. “That is when I stopped feeling safe.”
Silence settled, heavy, between them. Something inside him cracked. She hadn’t just been angry. She had been afraid of him.
He closed his eyes. “I thought I was protecting you. And I failed. I see that now. I am sorry, Eris. I am so damn sorry.”
She clutched the book tighter. Her heart ached, but her walls held firm. Forgiveness was one thing. Trust was another.
She knew he hadn’t reported her. If he had, she’d be locked away already. That truth weighed heavily in her chest, but it did not silence the fear that he might still break her in ways no one else could.
“I want to believe you,” she said. “Gods, I do. But I don’t know how.”
He did not reach for her, but every line of him leaned closer.
“Then let me show you.” His voice softened.
"I know trust isn’t given. It’s earned, and I’ll earn it back, whatever it takes.
" Their eyes met, his gaze open, stripped of pride. “Because without you, I don’t know who I am anymore. Everything I’ve bled for—every stone of this damned kingdom—feels like a cage tightening around my throat.
” His gaze burned, desperate, pained. “You’re the only freedom I’ve ever known. ”
She inhaled sharply. The words tore through her defenses, raw and honest. The kind of truth that leaves no place to run.
He stepped closer without touching, simply there.
One arm braced above her on the shelf, his mouth a breath away.
She leaned in by a breath, eyes softly closing.
His warmth, his scent wrapped around her like a promise.
She almost gave in, but fear lived too deep in her bones. She drew a sharp breath and stepped away. The loss of her hurt him deeply. His grip on the shelf tightened. Then she reached out and pressed the book, the one they had both reached for, against his chest.
“Then show me, Stephan. Show me it’s not just empty words.”
Her fingers brushed the Lycan charm at her throat. She didn’t hide it. She let it shine for him to see, because if he couldn’t face this, he couldn’t face her.
His voice dropped, low and final. “I will.”
She turned and her warmth vanished like the last ember of the day.
Stephan crushed the book to his chest like it was her heart, already slipping from his hands.
This time, he would not let go. No prophecy, no crown, no wolf, would take her from him again.
Her voice echoed in his blood.
Then show me, Stephan. Show me it’s not just empty words.
Those words chased him through the stone corridors of the Astareth Summit.
Clung to him like her scent, sharp, impossible to shake.
He didn’t remember crossing the western wing.
Only the jarring chill of the training quarter pulled him back.
The scent of steel, sweat, and cold stone filled the air, grounding and familiar, but he felt anything but steady.
The weight in his chest hadn’t eased. It sat there, heavy, as his brothers-in-arms strapped on gauntlets and traded quiet barbs like nothing had changed. Except everything had.
“You’re late,” Cassiel said. “And you look like shit.”
Stephan peeled off his coat in silence. His hands trembled once, just once, then stilled.
Theon’s voice followed, teasing but tempered. “What did she do, hex you with that mouth of hers?”
Stephan didn’t respond. Just stripped off his outer shirt, pulled laces tight. Every movement methodical.
Adrian leaned back against a weapons rack. “I take it the reunion didn’t end with a kiss.”
Silence stretched. Then finally, Stephan muttered, “She wore his charm.”
Cassiel winced. "Fuck! That’s brutal."
“How could she like him?” Stephan's voice frayed at the edges. “He’s not like me. He doesn’t think, he doesn’t wait—he just takes.” He caught himself, jaw tight. “Forget it.”
Theon arched a brow. “Jealousy looks ugly on you, commander.”
Stephan looked away, jaw working. “Maybe I deserve ugly.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was loaded. His friends had seen him bloody, broken, bruised…but never like this.
They knew what was at stake. This wasn’t just heartbreak. It was history, politics, power.
Adrian broke it first.
“Stephan,” he said, voice low. Grounded. “What happens when she aligns herself with them?”
Stephan didn’t answer.
“You know the Firstbloods already think the Dragovs are too progressive,” Adrian went on. “They will not stomach the king’s daughter standing beside Lycans.”
Stephan’s head snapped up. Anger, panic, and something sharper flickered behind his eyes.
“I will not let it spiral,” he said tightly, fastening his gauntlets.
“But I meant what I said to her. I will not control her. I will not force her to walk a path that makes her feel caged.” His voice dropped, hoarse.
“I lost her once trying to protect her my way. I will not make that mistake again.”
The locker room stilled. Not from discomfort, but respect—for a prince who dared defy power for love.
Silence hung for half a breath. Then the door slammed open. Boots thudded across the floor, carrying arrogance and the sharp scent of provocation.
Rurik strode in like a man who owned the ground he walked on, his Obsidian lapdogs trailing like shadows. Viktor Skovik leaned against a locker, arms crossed, dripping smug contempt.
“Well, well,” Rurik drawled, his gaze sliding over the room until it landed on Stephan. “If it isn’t the heartbroken prince. Heard your little Firstblood pet’s been running with wolves. Rough ones.”
Stephan’s spine stiffened, but he didn’t look up. Theon’s jaw flexed. Cassiel’s eyes narrowed. Adrian went still.
Rurik stepped closer, stretching lazily. “Must be hard,” he continued. “Seeing her fall for someone so…primal. I hear she doesn’t even bother pretending anymore.”
Viktor chuckled darkly. “Apparently, the Lycans know how to handle a woman. No silk gloves. Just claws.”