chapter 31
Ferial didn’t know how long she and Dante stayed in the kitchen after breakfast. The morning outside had shifted into pale gold, then into the quieter warmth of late morning.
Time moved strangely around him. Too slow.
Too fast. Like every second stretched between them but also disappeared the moment she blinked.
There was a part of her that wondered if he remembered he had duties that he had to return to.
Dante eventually stood, stretching his arms above his head until his shirt lifted slightly, showing the hard lines of muscle she pretended not to notice. He caught her staring. Smirked. Then pretended he didn’t see her whip her head away.
“I should probably check in with the northern patrol,” he said, though his voice held no real urgency. “But I… don’t want to leave. Not yet.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “You have responsibilities. I don’t want to be the reason you neglect them.”
A soft laugh escaped him. “Ferial, I’ve been fulfilling duties since the day I could walk. A few hours isn’t going to collapse the kingdom. I will probably not go in at all today.”
She looked at him carefully. “Is that what this is for you? Running away from your duties?”
His smile softened. “No. This is me choosing something that feels… good. Needed. Right. And I’m allowed to have that for one morning.” His gaze dropped to her hands. “Especially if it means being with you.”
Her stomach twisted with warmth and fear and something she didn’t want to name yet.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come outside with me. The air’s better on the back balcony. Less noise from the border.”
She nodded.
He led her up a narrow staircase to a small wooden balcony overlooking the northern forests—dark pines swaying in the cold wind, snow dusting their branches. The world smelled sharper out here, crisp and clean.
Ferial wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “It’s cold.”
Dante immediately shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. “I run hot. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll freeze,” she muttered.
He leaned beside her on the railing. “We heal fast. Remember?”
“Still.”
He looked at her—really looked—as though the concern alone soothed something deep inside him.
A moment later, he said quietly, “You know… when I was younger, I used to sneak out here alone. Whenever training became too much. Or when I needed to think. I’d climb onto the roof and stare at the border wall, wondering what existed beyond.”
She blinked at him. “Weren’t you told humans lived here? And so you visited as part of your training growing up?”
“Oh, yes,” he said dryly. “Endlessly. Constant reminder of danger, unpredictability, the need for supervision, all that nonsense. But I kept thinking—there are millions of humans. They can’t all be dangerous.
And it wasnt always that I came with my father, only when I needed a break from the Capital and its wolves. ”
She raised a brow. “And then you met me.”
He laughed softly. “And you proved me right. You’re not dangerous and neither am I.”
She shot him a look. “You literally almost murdered my friend for kissing me.”
“That’s different,” he muttered.
“How?”
He scratched his jaw. “You’re mine.”
She stared at him. He immediately groaned quietly and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Okay—bad phrasing. I don’t mean possession. I mean…” He inhaled deeply. “My soul recognizes yours. That isn’t something I can turn off.”
She looked out at the trees. “It’s still a lot.”
“I know.” Dante shifted closer to her—not touching, but warmer now, steadier. “And I want to make it less overwhelming. For you.”
She swallowed. “Why?”
His answer was quiet. “Because I already care.”
Her breath hitched. “You barely know me.”
His jaw tightened. “The bond knew you long before I did. I’m just catching up.”
Silence hung between them—heavy, delicate, charged.
Ferial glanced up at him. “Dante… do wolves ever get it wrong? The mate bond?”
He thought for a long time before answering.
“Not wrong.” He paused. “But complicated? Yes. My father once told me that the Goddess doesn’t choose based on convenience.
She chooses based on need. Growth. Challenges.
Balance. Sometimes two souls have to break old pieces of themselves to fit together. ”
“Break?” she whispered.
He nodded. “It’s never easy. Not when one of you is human. Not when the world is watching. Not when politics are involved.”
“Not when you’re the heir,” she added quietly.
His jaw flexed. “Exactly.”
She pulled his jacket tighter around herself. “If it’s so complicated… why aren’t you running from it?”
He turned his head to look at her fully, his expression raw and open in a way she hadn’t seen before.
“Because for the first time in my life, I don’t want to run from something difficult. I want to run toward it.” His voice lowered. “Toward you.”
Her heart stumbled.
He looked away then, staring at the treeline. “Can I tell you something stupid?”
She nodded.
“I wasn’t supposed to come here,” he admitted.
“This district wasn’t on my itinerary. My father sent me for a quick check-in and return.
But when we neared the border… something in me felt wrong.
Like a pull. Like I was being dragged.” He exhaled sharply.
“I didn’t understand it until I saw you in that factory. And then everything made sense.”
She clutched the railing. “Dante…”
“It was like breathing for the first time,” he said softly. “Like finding something I didn’t know was missing.”
Her chest tightened painfully. “You make it sound so… beautiful.”
“It is,” he whispered. “But also terrifying.”
She frowned. “Terrifying for you? Really?”
“Yes.” He turned to her again. “Ferial… I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t want to force the bond on you. I don’t want to cage you, or overwhelm you, or mistake fear for acceptance. That’s why I’m trying—trying so damn hard—to let you breathe.”
Her voice came out smaller than she intended. “No one’s ever tried to let me breathe before.”
He blinked, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “Then let me be the first.”
She stared at him, unable to look away.
He reached out—slowly—stopping just before touching her cheek. His hand hovered there, trembling.
“Can I?” he whispered.
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
His fingers brushed her cheek, warm and calloused and impossibly gentle. Her breath caught at the softness of the touch. Wolves were strong. Harsh. Intense. But Dante touched her like she was something sacred. Something precious.
Something his entire world depended on.
Her throat tightened. “Why do you look at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re memorizing me.”
He didn’t even attempt to hide it. “Because I am.”
Her pulse raced.
He let his hand fall slowly but didn’t step back. “Tell me something about you,” he murmured. “Anything. I want to know you the way you’re learning me.”
She swallowed. “I… like thunderstorms. The sound makes me feel less alone.”
He smiled softly. “I like them too. My wolf thrives in storms.”
She exhaled. “Your turn.”
“My turn?” he echoed.
“Yes. Tell me something no one else knows.”
He looked at her for a long moment, searching her face as though weighing whether he should truly tell her. Then he spoke quietly.
“When I was fifteen, I tried to run away from home.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“I was drowning,” he admitted. “The training. The expectations. Being told every day that I’d rule the packs one day. That I had to be perfect. Strong. Controlled. I just wanted to breathe.”
She whispered, “What stopped you?”
“My mother found me before I reached the gate.” He smiled faintly. “She didn’t yell. She didn’t drag me home. She just wrapped her arms around me and said, ‘Mi amor, the world will always try to make you bigger. Let me keep you small for one more night.’”
Ferial’s heart clenched. “She sounds… amazing.”
“She is,” he murmured. “And she’d adore you.”
She flushed. “Dante—”
“I mean it.” He turned toward her fully now, leaning his hip against the railing. “My parents would move mountains to protect you. Not because of the bond. But because of who you are.”
She looked down. “You don’t even know who I am.”
“I know enough,” he said softly. “I know you’re strong without realizing it. I know you’re kind even when people don’t deserve it. I know you’re careful with everyone’s feelings except your own. And I know touching you feels like stepping into sunlight after years of winter.”
Her breath fell out of her.
“Dante…”
“I’m not saying any of this to rush you,” he whispered. “I just want you to know what’s real for me. What’s happening to me. I want you to understand why I’m here. Why I can’t stay away from you.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the sincerity, the gentleness, the raw honesty he never allowed the world to see.
“Dante… I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Everything’s changing so fast. My life was simple. Small. Predictable. Now I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. Or where I fit. Or who I am. I don’t want to lose myself.”
His hand brushed hers—not grabbing, just a soft touch of fingertips. “Then don’t lose yourself,” he murmured. “Let me meet the real you. All of you. Not the you shaped by fear.”
Her eyes opened slowly.
He was closer than before, the winter wind tugging at his hair, his expression unguarded—soft, aching, hopeful.
“Let’s figure this out together,” he said quietly. “No rushing. No pressure. Just… us.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
And then, in the smallest voice, she whispered, “Okay.”
Something in his eyes broke open—relief, gratitude, something tender and fierce all at once.
He didn’t kiss her.
He didn’t pull her into his arms.
He simply let out a shaky breath and leaned his forehead gently against hers.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
And for the first time since stepping into the Northern Residence…
Ferial felt the world stop spinning. Even if it's been less than 48 hours.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough to realize—
she wasn’t falling.
She was choosing.