Chapter 12 Chamomile
CHAMOMILE
Anonymous-
She whispered his name, not mine. I’m the one who held her. I’m the one who carried her through the snow like something precious. Like a bride.
And wasn’t it, in some twisted way, its own kind of ceremony?
He came for her, I knew he would, but he was too late. He will always be too late.
I was here first, and I won’t let something like him replace my spot in Lumi’s life.
He tucked her in with a promise. I tucked her in with proof.
When push comes to shove, I’m the one there for her, just like when she ran from him.
I watch from the frozen rooftop across her apartment. He closed the curtains, but that is merely an inconvenience. I prepared for everything. Sixteen hidden cameras—installed the day before I followed her into the woods—render his privacy meaningless.
I pull my phone out and swipe to the bedroom feed. He’s sitting beside her bed, his monstrous claws pretending to be gentle as he brushes her hair back. I listen as he whispers promises he’ll never be able to keep.
My mind drifts to the weight of her in my arms—the perfect, compliant weight. She was so afraid until I wrapped my arm around her waist.
She gave me her fear like an offering... and I did something I wasn’t sure I was capable of: I held her gently, I tucked her in, I bandaged her palm, and I made her tea.
None of this was about taking from her. It has always been my duty to save her. He protects her out of animal instinct. I protect her because I choose to. She wouldn’t have survived the last four years without me.
When he finally leaves her side, even for one second, she’ll look at the nightstand and wonder: Who did all of this for me?
“Let me tell you a bedtime story, Lumi,” I murmur to the screen, watching her chest rise and fall.
“If you had been anyone else… You wouldn’t have woken up in your bed. You would have woken up in a room where your memory was a white sheet, and I was the only truth you knew.
“What would you have done then, hm? What if the only voice you heard in the dark was the one that saved you from the monster? If the moment I touched you, I broke your willingness to run.
“I could have given you peace, and you would have thanked me for finally ending the pain.
“You think I don’t know what’s buried in you? That deep, bone-tight ache for someone to see all of you and still keep you.
“Brick by shattered brick, I would dismantle the life you know, until the only name you answered to was the one I gave you.
“Would you like to know what it was? What I would’ve renamed you, had I kept you away? Would you like to know how many times I’ve already said it out loud?
“Do you think he’ll tell you how sacred your pulse felt? How the feeling of it, strong beneath my palm, promised a future I had already claimed?
“If I wanted to break you, little Dove, I wouldn’t have needed drugs—just the cold truth. But I didn’t, because I need you to feel it first. I need you to know this world you think you’ve rebuilt for yourself is built on borrowed time.
“This safety that you’ve conjured up is nothing more than a lie he gave you to keep you docile. He won’t always be here, you know?
“He already failed you once. He’ll fail again, and when he does... I’ll be waiting. Because you were always meant to be mine.”
I tap my fingers against my jaw, watching her on the screen—still sleeping and soft. Still mine.
You should thank me for my restraint, Lumi. Monsters who can’t control themselves? They finish fast... and they forget even faster.
But me? I remember everything.
Every twitch.
Every heartbeat.
And I’m gonna make sure you remember too.
Lumi
I’m not quite sure where I am; everything feels wrong. All I can register is a dark, looming shape—like someone is standing over me, or the shadows themselves have weight.
There’s a muffled voice nearby, like it’s wrapped in thick wool. It’s close, and it scares me.
My body feels like it's underwater. My mind wrapped in cold, wet gauze. Every limb is heavy, unresponsive. I try to speak, to call out, but my throat is dry and tight—locked shut as if stitched from the inside.
I remember snow. Running. Screaming. Antlers silhouetted in the dark—wind slicing past my face, fear burning in my chest.
Then warmth. Strong arms wrapping around me. Carrying me like I’m something breakable. But I don’t feel safe. I feel... cornered.
I can hear whispers, but I can’t make out the words. I try to open my eyes again, but they're too heavy. Everything tilts sideways.
I smell something familiar through the haze, slightly sweet and soothing. Chamomile.
A blanket brushes my shoulder, it feels like the one I sleep with every night—Anna’s. There’s the faint hum of my refrigerator... and the familiar squeak of the broken icemaker.
I’m in my apartment.
But how did I get here?
I try with all my might to open my eyes, but the darkness pulls me under, and this time I surrender completely.
Andrik
I should be tearing the city apart, one bone at a time, until the world bleeds an answer.
But she’s breathing—barely—and that’s the only reason the sky still stands.
Her lashes flutter against her cheek, but the warmth hasn’t returned to her skin. I don’t trust her stillness, not with the sedative still creeping through her bloodstream.
The beast in me thrashes, desperate to cover her in our scent, to erase every trace that someone else had their hands on her. Nai’thar?n ves sael?n. Eyn’vela narh veskael. (I was made for you, soulbond. There is no version of this life where I let you go.)
My claws, dulled but still dangerous, brush the hair back from her face.
I whisper vraks?n promises into her skin, barely more than a breath.
“Veyr’sal ves’krae, Sael?n. Vireth’nai ves kaemorin.
Ael’vaer?n ves thorin, narh’mirae ves kael’thar.
” (The frost marks you, soulbond. Your body belongs to me.
My scent will be your shield, and my wrath their ruin.)
I press my mouth gently to her temple, just long enough to seal the vow. “Thae’verin narh veskae, Sael?n. Ael’mirae ves’kai, ael’morin ves’thar.” (Let them try to take you from me, soulbond. I will stay through death, I will guard you through war.)
Her breath stutters, and my heart breaks in time with it.
I want to kill someone.
I want to kill everyone.
But she needs me whole, so I become whole for her.
I gather her into my arms, careful with her limbs as I rise from the floor. Once she’s secure against my chest, I stroll to the door. My shoulders are too broad for the frame; I have to turn sideways to avoid jolting her.
I carry her through every shadow of the apartment, checking each corner and lock with deliberate precision.
The tang of copper, disinfectant, and wilting wildflowers wafts in the air. The sink is clean, but the sting of sanitizer clinging to the tiles burns my nose. The wound he cleaned.The skin he touched.
I hold her closer, willing the images away.
The worst of it waits in her bedroom—where that artificial scent hangs thickest. A drawer hangs open on her dresser, and her journal sits exposed, opened to the middle, as if he knew exactly what he was searching for. I close it and tuck it back inside.
Only once I’m sure there’s no one here, and that no one can get back in, do I exhale.
That’s when I notice she’s barefoot. Her boots aren‘t scattered; they’re tucked neatly in the closet next to all her others.
The beast inside me howls when he thinks of someone undressing her, even if it was just her shoes.
My jaw tenses as I lower us both to the edge of her bed, resting her in my lap. She doesn’t wake, but her pulse flutters a little stronger at her throat. I keep one hand pressed there while the other reaches for the blanket she snuggled into earlier.
I drape it across her lap, then stop.
Her jeans are stiff and damp, her hoodie is caked with dry mud, and the skin peeking out from her collar is bruised and dirty.
I don’t want to strip her of her clothing, but she’ll get sick if I leave her like this.
My hands tremble as I ease her hoodie up. I move with reverence, not hunger. Like I’m peeling away a curse.
Underneath, she’s wearing a soft, thin t-shirt.
It’s damp and clinging to her skin. I don’t take it off; I wrap a towel around her to warm her up.
I keep her covered with one hand while the other carefully unbuttons her jeans, but the zipper sticks from the cold.
I grab the stiff denim at her waist and slide the jeans down her hips.
I work slowly, letting the fabric pool at her ankles before pulling them free.
Her legs are freezing. A red mark blooms along her shin. Bruises cover her knees. They will pay for this. I press a kiss to each one, silent and full of promise. Then, gently, I ease the damp shirt over her head.
I clean her skin with quiet hands and warm water, shielding her from the cold. Only uncovering what I must. Never looking where I shouldn't.
I dress her in the softest clothes I can find, sweats, and a shirt that smells like her, but beneath her scent, I can still pick up the other. I’ll carry it with me until their blood washes it clean.
Before I join her in the bed, I kneel at the foot of it, claws curling into my palms. I don’t have my blade. That would make this easier. But maybe this shouldn’t be easy, since I failed her.
With a sharp breath, I reach up and grip one of the outer branches of my right antler. I brace the base, clench my jaw, and snap downward. The break isn’t clean, and white-hot pain shoots through my temple—a piece of me for her.
The shard drops into my palm, warm and jagged, soaked with ancient marrow.
I whisper the rite beneath my breath: “Kael’shar?n. Veskal narh ves thal?n.” (Shard-warding. The gods will judge what steps near her now.)
I place the bone beneath the bed, at the headboard. Then I do it again. And again. Three shards. Three breaks. A triangle of protection drawn from my own body.
She will wake surrounded by godfire, not shadow.
And if they return—
They will bleed on Rhavari soil.
I curl beside her, pulling her tight against my side, tucking her head under my chin into a cage of warmth.
My lips hover over her ear, “Ves’kael narh ves thal?n. Etra’kai l?n, Sael?n. Ael’mira ves kai’mir?n.” (I stay even in your silence. You are safe, soulbond. I will guard you until you no longer wish it.)
She stirs, her hand curling into the fur of my chest like she’s reaching for me in her sleep.
I close my eyes.
“N?rak ven’sael?n.
Narh veylnara.
Narh skarth.
Narh veylor.
Veskael ar’thael kai’ael?n.
Velunther ves kai’sael?n.”
(They will not take her. Not in dreams. Not in flesh. Not in name. I’ll unmake the sky before I let her forget me.)