Chapter Five
Silas
Aria sleeps.
Not peacefully, she’s far from that, but she isn’t trapped in the nightmare loops she fell into last night. Her breathing is steady now, shallow but calm, her body curled on her side beneath the blanket like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible.
I sit where I always sit. In the chair beside her bed. Watching shadows move outside the window as dawn creeps closer. My dire wolf hates the chair. He wants the bed. He wants her warmth, her scent, her heartbeat pressed against ours.
But Aria isn’t ready for that. Not even close.
So, I sit. And I wait. And I pretend the chair is comfortable when my ass has been numb for hours.
The early morning quiet is shattered by a deep, distant howl, one of the border warriors checking in. My shoulders ease a fraction. The territory is secure.
Aria stirs at the sound, breathing hitching, but she doesn’t wake. Good. She needs the rest. It’s been ... almost twenty-four hours since the rescue? Time’s blurred. I only know she’s slept three times, and I’ve barely slept at all.
The door opens softly behind me. Caine steps inside and closes the door without a sound, glancing once at Aria before turning his attention to me.
“You look like hell,” he murmurs.
I shrug. “She needed me here.”
Caine leans against the dresser, arms crossed. “I figured. Marc said you stayed through the night.”
“She panics when she wakes alone.”
Caine studies my face closely, reading more than I say. He always does.
Then he nods. “I talked to Xavia. She’ll wait another day.”
“Good.”
“She’ll also need to shift eventually,” he adds gently.
My jaw tightens. “Not yet.”
“No,” Caine agrees. “Not yet.”
There’s a long beat of silence.
Then he says, voice lower than before, “Your scent is changing.”
My chest freezes. “What?”
“Not fully,” he continues, “but enough that it’s noticeable to anyone who’s paying attention.”
I swallow hard. “Because the bond is pulling.”
“Yes.”
I rub my palms against my thighs, restless. “It flickers. Sometimes strong. Sometimes gone.”
“That’s not normal,” Caine says softly.
“I know.” The silence between us grows heavy.
He shifts slightly. “Silas ... has she touched you?”
I shake my head. “No. She barely lets me near.”
“Has she let you scent-mark anything? The room? The bed?”
“No.”
Caine exhales, thoughtful. “Then the bond shouldn’t be affecting you this much yet.”
I don’t respond, because I feel the truth in my ribs, my dire wolf has already accepted her entirely. Long before she ever could.
Caine’s tone softens. “She’s scared of wolves.”
“I know.”
“And of men.”
“I know.”
“You’re both.”
“I. Know.” My anger slips through, and my voice cracks on the last word.
Caine’s head tips slightly. “And you’re still here,” he murmurs.
I look back at Aria, sleeping in a fragile curl on the mattress. “I’m not leaving,” I whisper.
“I didn’t say you should,” Caine replies quietly. Another pause. “You have to be patient with this one, Silas. More patient than you’ve ever been. More patient than I think any male affected by the mate bond has ever been.”
“I can do that.” I don’t have a choice, but I don’t tell him that.
“You also have to be honest with yourself.”
I frown. “About what?”
Caine’s eyes soften, but not with pity, but with understanding. “You’re already in deep.”
My breath leaves me in a slow exhale. “I can’t afford to lose myself,” I say honestly.
“Fate doesn’t care what you can afford,” Caine says gently. “Or what she can. Or what anyone is ready for.”
My chest aches. I look back at Aria, her fragile breathing, the faint tremor still lurking under the surface, even in sleep.
“She doesn’t want a mate,” I say quietly. “She barely tolerates people.”
“She didn’t say no,” Caine answers softly. “She said ‘stay.’ Sometimes, that’s bigger than ‘yes.’”
His hand lands on my shoulder, comfort, and a warning. “You’ll have one chance not to fuck this up,” he tells me. “Step wrong, and she’ll run from you for the rest of her life.”
I swallow hard. “I know.”
“And if the bond continues flickering the way it is...” He hesitates, something heavy flickering over his expression. “If her leopard can’t rise ... there’s a chance the bond could destabilize and break completely.”
Cold fear slides down my spine. “Meaning?”
“Meaning the mate link could collapse before it fully forms. Meaning you’d feel it slip out of reach.”
My dire wolf snarls hard enough my skin prickles.
“Meaning you’d lose her.”
The fear hits like a blade to the ribs. I grip the edge of the chair. Caine squeezes my shoulder once more, then straightens.
“We’ll do everything to help her heal. But you need to be steady. Don’t push. Don’t let instinct drive you. Let her lead.”
“I will.”
He nods once and leaves quietly. When the door clicks shut, the silence is unbearable. Lose her. Goddess. I look at Aria again.
The bond flickers once, faint, and weak and quivering. My breath shakes.
No. I won’t lose her. Not after finding her in a cage. Not after hearing her say don’t leave.
I stand abruptly, pacing the small room. My dire wolf pushes at my skin, snarling, restless. All we want is to curl around her. To guard her. To drown out her nightmares with our presence. But that would terrify her.
I stop at the window, bracing my palms on the sill.
The forest outside is quiet. Birds starting to wake. The pack moving through morning routines far from here.
Aria shifts in the bed behind me. Not waking, just moving. But the sound hammers through me. Every part of me reacts. Her breathing, her heartbeat, and her scent. It’s like I’m wired directly to her.
I drag in a deep breath and force myself still. When I turn back, she’s awake. Sitting up and staring at me with soft, hazy confusion. “You left,” she whispers.
My chest caves inward. “No,” I say immediately. “I just stood up.”
Her gaze roams over the room slowly, as if confirming I didn’t disappear. The tightness in her shoulders eases a fraction.
“I thought...” She trails off, shaking her head as if scolding herself. “Never mind.”
My heart twists. “Tell me.”
She hesitates. Swallows. “I thought I imagined you.”
I blink. “What?”
She looks down at her hands. “I had dreams. Nightmares. Then I thought ... maybe ... maybe you weren’t real.”
Oh, Goddess. I kneel beside the bed slowly, careful not to crowd her.
“Aria,” I say softly. “I’m real.”
She lifts her gaze. Her eyes shimmer faintly, not with tears, but something more fragile.
“You stayed,” she whispers.
“I’ll always stay.” I regret the words instantly. Too much. Too heavy. Too soon.
But she doesn’t flinch. Her arms wrap tighter around her knees. “The Hunters ... they didn’t let us sleep much. If we slept too long, they said we were wasting time. They said sleep was weakness.”
My jaw clenches. “Sleep is survival.”
“They didn’t think so.”
She drags in a slow breath. “So, when I woke up and you weren’t right next to the bed ... I thought maybe I’d fallen asleep too long. Or that I wasn’t supposed to sleep at all.”
The pain in her voice is like knives under my ribs.
“Aria,” I say gently, “you can sleep as much as your body needs. No one here will punish you for it. No one will wake you unless you ask.”
She looks at me warily. “No waking?”
“No waking.”
“No punishment?”
“None.”
Her lip quivers. “No commands?”
“No commands,” I say firmly.
Her eyes search my face, desperate for a lie. But she won’t find one because it isn’t there to be found. Finally, she nods once, tiny but real.
Then she whispers, almost too soft to hear. “Okay.” And I finally release the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
****
Hours later, she eats again, two more careful sips of broth, I feel something in her ease. Just a little. Like the knot of fear in her chest loosens enough to breathe.
Her hands shake when she sets the bowl down.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She nods, though she looks exhausted. “Just ... tired.”
“Lie down.”
She does. Then she looks at me in a way that steals my breath.
“Can you...” she hesitates, cheeks flushing faintly, “sit closer?”
My pulse spikes. “Yes,” I murmur.
I move the chair right beside the bed. She exhales shakily and burrows deeper into the bedding. My hand rests on my knee.
Slowly, very slowly, she stretches her fingers toward the edge of my chair. Not touching. Not quite. Just closer. Close enough that I can feel the heat of her skin.
My chest throbs but I don’t move an inch.
She closes her eyes, breathing slow, careful breaths.
The bond flickers again, this time warm and soft. Like the first spark of a fire not yet strong enough to catch. Pain doesn’t follow, not this time. Just heat and connection.
And ... hope.
Her voice is faint when she speaks again.
“Silas?”
“Yeah?”
“Please don’t go.”
My throat tightens. “I’m right here,” I whisper.
“I know.” A shaky breath. “Thank you.”
Her fingers inch just a little closer. Not touching but only a heartbeat away. My dire wolf goes still and my pulse thunders.
“I’ll always stay, Aria” I breathe.
And for the first time since the rescue, the bond glows faintly. Steady, warm, and more alive than ever before. Not whole. Not healed. But alive.
She falls asleep like that, her hand close enough to touch mine, but not yet brave enough to try. And I guard her until the sun moves across the sky and shadows stretch long across the floor. Because she asked me to stay.
And I don’t break promises to the woman fate carved into my soul.