Chapter 31 Shame
SHAME
Lumi-
The moment I say it, I want to take it back. His whole body jerks like I’ve struck him. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Not a single word comes out.
I don't know what I expected. Maybe a smile, or a soft no, maybe even a kiss. But not this haunted look in his eyes.
I grab one of the furs from the floor and cover myself. Cold creeps over me now that he's not holding me anymore.
The mark on my neck throbs, no longer from pleasure, but like a bruise pressed too hard.
He still hasn't said anything.
I glance at him again. His jaw is clenched, his brows are drawn in a tight line I can't decipher.
Maybe it was never him at all. Maybe it was just the bond, and now that it's fading... he realizes his mistake.
My face burns. I shift slightly on the rug, suddenly too aware of everything—the slickness between my thighs, his ruined pants, the pulse still pounding in my throat.
Maybe this didn't mean the same thing to him. Maybe it was just his animal side.
Embarrassment floods through my chest in a wave of heat that starts in my sternum and spreads to the tips of my ears.
I meant what I said. I did love it. I loved all of it. I've never felt more wanted, more treasured. But looking at him now, all I see is guilt.
I look down at my fingers. The ones that carved my name into his bones. All the things I said play back in an endless loop.
I slide back a little on the rug, keeping the blanket clutched tightly around me. I can't look at him right now, not when he can't meet my gaze.
My voice barely rises above a whisper.
“You don't have to say anything.” I force a breath and try to smile. “I think I'll—I’m going to take a bath. “
His head lifts instantly. “Lumi—”
But I'm already scrambling to my feet, because if I stay any longer, I'm going to cry.
Once the tub is full, I sink to the bottom and scrub my skin harder than necessary, thinking that it can somehow wash the humiliation away. I've been in the water so long, I've had to refill it three times. The lavender oil I added doesn't help calm anything.
Nothing helps.
The mark on my neck still stings. I trace over it with trembling fingers.
Why did I ask if he regretted it if I wasn't strong enough for his answer?
My heart twists as I sink deeper under the lukewarm water. My body is still cool from where his vines held me.
My hand drifts to the inside of my thigh, where I can still feel the phantom echo of his claws.
I thought when he marked me—when I carved my name into his antler—it was something he wanted. Could it have been the bond all along? Is there nothing between us more than a force beyond our control compelling us to feel and act on things we don't actually feel?
The thought makes me nauseous.
A soft thud comes from the other side of the door, like someone leaning their weight against it.
My breath catches.
I wait, frozen in the cooling water, listening for... What? An apology? An explanation?
But nothing comes. Just heavy silence suffocating me from everything being left unsaid.
My throat tightens. Part of me wants to call out to him. For him to hold me and tell me I'm overthinking everything.
But the other part—the part that saw the haunted look in his eyes—knows better.
I sink lower until the water reaches my chin.
When I finally force myself to get out, my skin is pruney, and I smell like an apothecary. I wrap myself in one of his shirts; it's the only thing I can find in here. I hesitate at the bathroom door.
The hallway is unnaturally quiet. For a moment, I think he may have left. Maybe he couldn't stand to be near me anymore and just... walked back into the forest where he belongs.
That thought shouldn't hurt as much as it does.
I tiptoe down the hall, trying to make as little noise as possible, following the faint glow of the fire in the living room.
I pause in the doorway.
He's on his knees in front of the hearth, back to me, shoulders hunched, head bowed low. His antlers cast jagged shadows across the wall. His hands are pressed flat against the floor, like he's bracing himself—or begging.
He's whispering low, in Vraks?n. The words tumble out of him in a desperate, fractured rhythm. I only catch pieces—fragments that twist like knives.
“Skar’vesin... Thar?n...” (Shame... Unworthy...)
“Kai’morin ael”thar?n ves...” (My heart... Failed you.)
“Nai’kael... Veskarya...” (I am not... you who marked me.)
My stomach drops. He's praying to his gods, and every word I understand sounds like regret... like shame.
Is he... apologizing for me?
My throat closes and my vision blurs. I take a step back, trying to sneak away, but the floorboard creaks.
He freezes.
Andrik pov-
The floorboard groans behind me.
Every muscle in my body locks up.
No.
No, no, no—
I was praying. Begging the gods, the forest, anyone to help me fix this. To take away the shame clawing through my chest so I could face her without this devastating weight crushing me.
I came in my thrahking pants like a youngling experiencing his first touch.
She carved her name into me, trusted me with her body, her pleasure—and I couldn't even last.
I couldn't give her what she deserved without losing myself completely.
I've been on my knees for thal?n knows how long, whispering the same broken prayers over and over again.
“Skar’vesin kai’morin... thar?n ves’thral...” (I am ashamed... unworthy of holding you...)
“Kai'morin ael’thar?n... nai’kael veskarya...” (My heart failed. I am not worthy of you who marked me...)
I turn slowly, still on my knees, and the sight of her guts me.
She's wearing my shirt. It swallows her, hanging off one shoulder, falling past her knees like a dress.
Her hair is damp, her skin is flushed from the bath. And her eyes—
They shatter me.
She's been crying.
“Sael?n,” my voice cracks.
She takes a step back.
The single movement cracks my chest wide open.
“You don't have to explain,” she whispers. Her arms wrap around herself. “I understand.”
“Understand? I'm on my feet before I can get the word out. “Lumi, what—”
“I heard you.” Her voice shakes. “Praying. About your... shame.”
My chest tightens. “Yes. My shame—”
“I get it, Andrik.” Her gaze falls to the floor. “It was the bond. The heat. You didn't mean for it to go that far, and now you don't know how you feel about me, you don't—”
“What?”
She thinks—
Oh gods, she thinks I regret her.
“Lumi, no.”
“It's okay.” But her voice breaks on the words. “I shouldn't have pushed. I shouldn't have—”
“Stop.” The word comes out harsher than I mean it to.
She flinches.
I take a breath and try again.
“Lumi, you don't—that’s not—” My hands flex at my sides. “I wasn't—”
“Andrik. Really, it's fine.” She's backing towards the hallway now, and I can't help the panic that flares through me. “We just need some space to—”
“No.” I'm in front of her before she can retreat further.
“Thal’vesin, Sael?n. Please. Just—just listen.”
“I heard enough.” Her voice cracks. “You were praying about shame. About me—”
“Not you—”
“I heard you say my name—”
“Because I'm ashamed of myself!” The words explode out of me.
She goes still.
I drag my hand through my hair, antlers catching in my grip. My chest is heaving.
“The shame, the unworthiness—it’s me, Lumi.”
My voice drops to something broken. “Not you. Never you, lúmina’ka. Me.”
Confusion flickers across her face.
“I don't...” she shakes her head. “I don't understand.”
“I came in my thrahking pants,” I force out. “Without you even touching me.”
The words hang between us like a confession.
Her brow furrows.
“That... that’s what this whole thing was about?”
“You don't understand.” I can't look at her, can't meet those bloodshot eyes. “I've waited so long for you. Thousands of years to prove that I could be the male you deserve. The protector. The—”
My voice stutters.
“I wanted to give you everything. I wanted to prove I was worthy of you. Of your trust. Of your claim.” I gesture helplessly at my antler. “Instead, I fell apart the second you marked me. What kind of mate does that make me?”
She stares at me, completely silent for what seems like hours.
“Are you serious right now?”
I blink. “What?”
“Andrik.” She steps closer. “You think I'm upset because you finished? Because you were that turned on by me marking you?”
My jaw works. “It was weak—”
“It was hot.” She cuts me off. Her cheeks flush, and I can scent the shift from shame to arousal.
“Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Knowing I affected you that much? That just carving—”
She breaks off, shaking her head.
“But now I'm wondering...” Her voice goes quiet. “Was that even you wanting me? Or was it just the bond? Just your instinctual reaction to the heat?”
My chest tightens. “What?”
“You said it yourself.” Her arms cross over her chest. “You waited thousands of years. The bond recognized me. Your body recognized me.” She's looking everywhere but at me. “But what about you, Andrik. Not the beast. Not the bond. Just... you.”
“Lumi, that's not—”
“Because it felt real.” Her voice shakes. “When you touched me. When you marked me. It felt like you wanted me but now—”
“Now?” I close the distance between us. “Now you think I don't want you?”
“I think maybe you wanted what the bond told you to want—”
“Veyr’kai ves thral!” (You destroy me!) The words burst out. I grab her shoulders as gently as I can, forcing her to look at me.
“ The bond didn't make me want you, Lumi. You made me want you. Your fire. Your smart mouth. The way you fought me, even when you were terrified—”
“Then why are you ashamed?!”
“Because I wanted it to be perfect!” My voice cracks. “I wanted to prove I could control myself. That I could give you everything you deserved without—without taking anything in return.”
She's trembling under my hands, or maybe it's me.
“What can I do? What can I do to prove it to you?” I plead.
Her eyes finally meet mine, searching for an answer.
My throat tightens. Something desperate claws up my chest, waiting for her to respond.
“What do you want from me, lúmina’ka?” I rasp. “Do you want me to beg? To let you bind me instead? To give you all the control so you can see, I'll take anything you give me?”
Her breath catches.
“Would that prove it?” My voice is barely above a growl. “Would that fix this?”
She stares at me for a long moment.
“Yes,” she whispers. “I think it would.”