Chapter 20
MEGA SIZE YARN BALL
Lumi-
I thought I knew what fast was.
I was wrong.
The world blurs into streaks of white and shadow—snow and trees ripping past us so fast I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Wind whips at my face, stealing my breath, freezing tears on my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying.
Andrik’s muscles roll and surge with every stride beneath me. I grip fistfuls of his fur—soft, thick, and impossibly warm. Which is weird, because he’s always cold. It must be some Rhavari thing my brain can’t piece together.
His tail is still wrapped around my waist. Every time we leap, every time we land, it tightens. Like he’s reminding me: I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.
I bury my face in the back of his neck and breathe him in. Even like this, monstrous with not a lick of humanity left, he still smells like cloves, and pine, and home.
I don’t know when he became that.
I don’t know when his scent became the thing that steadies my heartbeat instead of spiking it. I don’t know when his presence became the only place I felt safe.
He leaps again, higher this time, and my stomach drops as we soar over a frozen ravine. I gasp, fingers twisting deeper into his fur, thighs clamping down hard.
A low rumble vibrates through his chest. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was laughing.
“This isn’t funny!” I shout into the wind.
His tail squeezes my waist. His ears flick back toward me.
Yeah. He’s definitely laughing.
I press my cheek against his fur and hold on tighter. The cold doesn‘t touch me here—his body heat bleeds through my clothes, warming me from the outside in. His antlers cut through the wind above me, the left one jagged and broken where he tore it from his own skull.
For me.
He did that for me.
I close my eyes and let the rhythm of his body carry me. Every stride, every breath, every beat of his massive heart against my chest.
He’s terrifying like this, and somehow... even more beautiful. He looks like a mix of a lion, panther, wolf, and stag all molded into one beast.
His body is enormous, easily the size of my car, maybe bigger, and yet he moves like water—regal and fluid.
His fur’s changed, much thicker now, more luminous and silky. It’s a mix of silver and white that twinkles under the moonlight like fresh-fallen snow.
His face is more feline in this form; a lion’s power with a panther’s slickness.
His antlers are larger too, more twisted than before, branching from his skull as if they grew straight from the gods’ first forest. There are designs carved into them that shimmer faintly every time his paws hit the ground.
His ears are his most wolf-like feature. They’re large, triangular, and they twitch constantly, listening for danger even as he runs.
His hooves have morphed into giant paws with black iridescent claws that could cleave a human in half with no more than a swipe.
His tail is long and thick, covered in that same silver-white fur. It moves like it has a mind of its own—tightening when we jump, loosening when we land, always keeping me perfectly anchored to him.
I know he was holding this part of himself back from me, because he thought it would scare me, but I can’t help picturing him in a giant cat bed with a mega-size yarn ball, purring as I scratch behind his ears.
I wonder if he can still understand me like this. I wonder if there are words locked behind those blue eyes he can’t get out. Part of me wishes I could hear his voice again—that low rumble that always makes my chest tight.
But then his tail squeezes my waist, and I realize—he doesn’t need words. He’s already saying everything.
Andrik-
I slow as the cabin comes into view, my paws silent on the snow. She’s still gripping my fur, her body warm against my back, her heartbeat steady now. Safe.
I lower myself to the ground so she can slide off. Her legs are shaky when they hit the ground, and I have to nudge her with my muzzle to steady her.
She laughs softly, but she sounds so tired. “Thanks, Bambi,” she says as she scratches behind my ear. I have to tense every muscle in my body to fight the scratch reflex—to keep my hind paw from tapping against the snow like a thrahking house cat.
She has no idea how close she just came to ruining my dignity.
I huff and nudge her toward the cabin before she tries it again. Thrahk,v elis’kai. (Fuck, that felt good.)
...before I let her.
The shift takes me. It’s not gentle—it never has been. When I straighten, she’s watching me with wide eyes.
“Where does it all... go?”
I have to stop myself from chuckling. Despite shifting multiple times a day my entire life, I really don’t know the answer.
“It all just shifts around. Like I’m two different things.”
”That makes no sense.”
“It is a little confusing. I’ve been doing this forever, and I still don’t know how to explain it.”
“Speaking of forever... how old are you?”
I guide her up the stairs. The door creaks open beneath my hand. The scent of pine, firewood, and the faintest trace of her lingers. This place has always been mine—but it was always meant for us.
“I’ll answer that later, go get changed,” I tell her, nodding toward the pile of furs and soft clothes near the hearth. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
She mumbles something that might be an agreement and shuffles toward the fire.
By the time I come back with a plate of cheese, fruit, and bread, she’s changed—drowning in one of my shirts, legs bare, hair still damp from the snow. Her eyes light up when she sees the plate of food in my hand. “I’m making you tea,” I say. “Don’t fall asleep.”
“I won’t,” she mutters with a mouthful of snowberries.
I go into the kitchen. The kettle takes only a few minutes,
When I walk back in, the plate is in her lap, a piece of bread still clutched in her fingers, and she’s snoring like a little bear.
I press a kiss to her temple, her cheek next, then the corner of her mouth. I whisper into her hair, “velorin kaemorin, Sael?n.”
She curls into my touch as exhaustion drags her deeper. Her body has been through too much. Her soul’s been stretched across too many nights with too little safety. And tonight nearly—
I grind my jaw.
He was there, in her home, close enough to leave a flower and watch her unravel. Every time I look at her, my chest cracks wider. I can smell it on her—the panic. Still fading, but not gone. She needs comfort. She needs peace. But my body aches for war.
I kneel.
Ves’kaelorin. (The nightwatch.) A Rhavari practice older than language—kneeling beside your vulnerable mate while the world tries to take them from you.
My senses unfurl through the forest like roots through frozen soil. I feel every heartbeat within a mile. Every snap of a twig. Every shift of wind through the trees. Nothing moves that I don’t know about. Nothing breathes that I don’t track.
... except him.
My hand rests near her head, claws slowly retracting as her breathing deepens. The fire snaps once, then settles. The storm outside has quieted to a low whisper through the eaves. The forest senses she needs the stillness.
I haven’t moved in over an hour. My knees ache, my back is stiff, but she’s here, and she’s mine to protect.
She shifts once beneath the fur. A quiet murmur leaves her lips, barely audible.
Then another, a few minutes later: “Andrik..”
I freeze, just like the first time she called for me in her sleep. My heart stills.
Her voice no longer holds the lilt of fear or panic like it did at her apartment when she thought I’d abandoned her—this is different. It’s soft and trusting. Like the sound a soul makes when it reaches in the dark and finally finds its other half.
Her fingers twitch, curling in the furs like she’s searching for me.
I drop my body lower beside her, breath caught in my throat.
“Sael?n,” I whisper. “I’m here.”
Her lashes flutter for a few seconds, but she doesn’t wake.
She called for me— a monster.
My throat tightens.
I can't get any words out, so I hum her the same Vraks?n lullaby I used to sing to the M?rvenkae while they lit up the sky to keep me from drowning in complete darkness when I was younger.
Kael’vurin ves saeve?n.
A soft breath escapes her, shallow and airy. “Sael?n... please...”
My claws sink straight through the wood. My name meant everything… but this? Calling me her Sael?n?
“Please.” She calls.
I grip onto the edge of the hearth to hold myself steady, but the plea she made is already spreading through my chest like frost.
“You called me your Sael?n,” I breathe. I lower my forehead to hers, fingers trembling as I cradle her face. “You know me,” I whisper. “Even when you don’t know how.”
Her breath stutters, like her soul can hear mine calling out to it.
“I’m here,” I promise. “I’ll never leave again. I swear it. On every star that ever watched me wait for you.”
She makes a soft sound in her throat and turns toward me, nuzzling closer.
My frozen heart caves in.
I pull her fully against my chest, arms curling around her snugly.
No matter what comes next—she spoke the bond aloud. Even if she never remembers it.
I will.