chapter 32
Dante didn’t give her much time to retreat back into her anxiety . The next day as soon as the plates were rinsed and set aside to dry after dinner, he turned to her with a strangely soft excitement in his eyes—like he had been waiting for something all of yesterday and today.
“Come with me,” he said quietly.
“Where?” she asked, wary.
“To show you something important. Something every wolf learns before they’re even ten.” His eyes softened. “If you’re going to understand me… us… you should know my world.”
Her heart jumped at the word us, but she pretended not to react. He opened the back door and stepped outside into the cold morning. She hesitated only a moment before following him.
The northern district stretched empty and quiet before them. Smoke drifted from weakened chimneys, and patrols paced like shadows along the borders. But here, behind the residence away from the district, there was a small open yard of packed dirt.
Dante walked to the center and turned to face her.
“First… wolves greet differently,” he said, stepping closer. “Humans use words. Wolves use proximity.”
She swallowed. “Proximity?”
He nodded. “Distance tells everything. Threat… interest… respect… and especially trust.” His gaze held hers. “May I show you?”
Her instinct whispered to step back. But she forced herself to stay still and gave a tiny nod.
He approached slowly, his movements deliberate, gentle, almost reverent. When he came close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his chest, he leaned down slightly—not touching her, just lowering his head toward the space near her neck.
“This is the wolf equivalent of saying, ‘I mean no harm.’” His breath tickled her skin. “We expose our necks when we trust someone.”
Before she could respond, he tilted his chin slightly to the side, exposing the line of his throat to her.
Her eyes widened. “Isn’t that… dangerous and submissive?”
“For anyone else,” he murmured, holding his position. “Not for you. Not our mates or people we are very close to.”
She didn’t touch him. She didn’t move. But the way he stood before her, exposed and unguarded, sent a strange ache through her chest—one she didn’t yet know how to name.
When he straightened, his eyes held something tender.
“Second… eye contact.”
She blinked. “Eye contact?”
“Humans see it as confidence maybe even defiance. Wolves see it as connection. And only two types of wolves can hold prolonged eye contact without sparking aggression.” He paused. “Parents. And mates.”
Her breath hitched.
He turned away before she had the chance to drown in the meaning of that. “Third… pack instincts.”
He stepped into the dirt and gestured for her to follow. When she did, he walked around her in a slow circle.
“Wolves always walk either beside someone they trust or behind someone they are protecting.” He finished the circle and came to stand at her side. “Never behind someone we consider vulnerable or… important.”
She looked up at him. “So that’s why you always walk next to me?”
He gave a soft laugh. “That’s why I can’t not walk next to you.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she looked away quickly.
Dante continued, voice gentle. “Fourth… scent.”
She tensed immediately, remembering the way he had reacted when Abdie kissed her.
He sighed softly. “Don’t be scared. I’m not going to scent you. Not until you understand what it means.”
She relaxed—slightly.
“When wolves accept each other,” he explained, “they learn one another’s scent. It stays with us. It comforts us. It calms us down. And when a wolf finds their mate…” He hesitated, voice deepening. “It’s intoxicating.”
Ferial felt her heartbeat thudding hard, but she kept her voice steady. “What do I smell like?”
He blinked… then smiled, small and genuine. “Soft. Warm. Familiar, even before I knew why. Like… home.”
Her chest tightened painfully. “And you? What is your scent?”
He stepped closer. “Smell?”
“I… don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m human. I can’t smell anything like wolves can.”
He tipped his head slightly. “Come here.”
She parted her lips. “Dante…”
“I said I won’t scent you,” he reassured. “Just… smell me. So you understand.”
Slowly, hesitantly, she stepped closer. The world seemed to shrink until there was nowhere to look except up at him. His chest rose and fell steadily, patiently, waiting.
She leaned in just a fraction. And she inhaled.
Warm. Clean. Something like pine after rain. Something like heat. Something uniquely him.
She stepped back, flustered. “That’s… a lot. Alot of smells” She laughed half- heartedly.
He chuckled, the sound husky, amused. “Now imagine feeling everything at a thousand times stronger. That’s what yesterday did to me.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest.
He walked to a thick wooden post at the edge of the yard and placed his hand against it.
“Last… strength. Wolves are built to survive. To protect. To fight if needed. But strength isn’t only how much we can lift or how fast we can run.
” His voice lowered. “It’s how much control we have when we’re near the person who weakens all of that. ”
She froze.
He looked back at her, eyes burning warm.
“You make me stronger,” he said softly. “But you also make me lose control. So I have to work twice as hard.”
Something inside her twisted—fear, longing, confusion, and something deeper she still refused to name.
He took a step toward her. Then another.
“Let me be honest with you, Ferial,” he murmured. “If I treated you like a wolf, like an equal, I would be closer than this…” He took another faint step. “…and this.”
Her breath shook.
“But you’re human,” he whispered, “and you’re learning. So I will move slow. I will always move slow for as long as you need.”
He stopped just close enough that her fingertips brushed his shirt when she lifted her hand unconsciously.
She stared up at him.
“Why are you teaching me all of this?” she asked quietly. “Why does it matter?”
“Because you deserve to understand the world you were forced into.” His eyes softened unbearably. “And because the bond will only get stronger. You need to know what it means before it overwhelms you.”
A chill ran down her spine.
“So I’m… preparing?” she whispered.
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re choosing. Or you will, when you’re ready.”
She didn’t know what to say.
Not when her chest felt tight. Not when her throat felt too small. Not when his presence wrapped around her like warmth in winter. Not when everything he said made her feel both protected and completely exposed.
He stepped back finally, giving her space.
“Come inside,” he said gently. “There’s more to show you. And I think you’ve learned enough wolf culture so long.”
But just as she turned to follow him, he added softly—without looking back:
“And Ferial?”
She looked up.
A slow, warm smile tugged at his mouth. “Thank you… for trusting me.”
Her breath caught.
Because she hadn’t realized it until that moment—
but she had.
And it terrified her more beautifully than anything ever had.