chapter 46
Night settled over the mountain like a living thing.
The lodge was quiet—too quiet, Ferial thought later. The kind of quiet that lulled you into believing nothing could touch you up here, surrounded by pine and stone and the steady presence of the man beside you.
They didn’t sleep in the same bed.
Not because either of them didn’t want to—but because Dante had asked, gently, giving her the choice before she even had to consider it.
“There’s no rush,” he’d said. "Tonight was about peace and us getting to know each other."
She’d appreciated that more than she knew how to say.
So she took the guest bedroom.
It smelled faintly of cedar and clean linen. The window was cracked open just enough to let the mountain air drift in. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the forest breathe.
For the first time in her life, she felt… full.
Seen.
Safe.
And then—
Heat.
It crept in slowly at first. A strange warmth pooling low in her stomach, spreading outward like embers stirred back to life.
Ferial frowned, shifting beneath the covers.
Too warm.
She kicked one leg free, then the other. Her skin felt tight, over-sensitive, like every nerve had been turned up too high.
Her heart began to pound.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “You’re fine.”
But the heat didn’t fade.
It intensified.
It surged—violent and sudden—curling through her veins, flooding her chest, her back, her thighs. Her breath hitched as pain followed close behind, sharp and burning, like something was trying to tear its way through her from the inside.
She gasped, clutching at her stomach.
“No,” she breathed. “No, no—”
Her body arched involuntarily.
The pain spiked.
She cried out, the sound raw and unfiltered, ripped straight from her chest.
The room blurred.
Her skin felt like it was on fire, her bones aching, her muscles seizing as if they no longer belonged to her. The heat became unbearable—suffocating, consuming—until it felt like her body was being dragged somewhere it didn’t understand.
She screamed again.
Her throat burned.
Tears streamed down her temples as she writhed, fingers clawing at the sheets, at the mattress, at anything that might anchor her to herself.
“Dante—” she sobbed, not even sure if she said it out loud.
Her vision tunneled.
The pain crescendoed, peaking into something so intense it stole the air from her lungs.
And then—
The door.
She heard it swing open.
Hard.
Footsteps.
Her name.
But the world went dark before she could see him.
—
Beeping.
Slow. Rhythmic. Steady.
Ferial floated in and out of consciousness, awareness returning in fragments. White light pressed against her eyelids. Something cool beneath her. Something warm around her hand.
She frowned slightly, trying to move.
Pain flared—but then softened.
Dimmed.
Her lashes fluttered.
The first thing she noticed was the smell—clean, sterile, unfamiliar.
Hospital.
Her eyes opened fully.
White room. Medical monitors. IV line in her arm.
Her breath hitched.
Panic surged—until she felt arms around her.
Strong.
Familiar.
She turned her head weakly.
Dante.
He was half-sitting on the bed, half-curled around her, one arm braced behind her shoulders, the other gripping her hand like he might never let go. His face was pale, jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked beneath the skin.
“You’re awake,” he said hoarsely.
The sound of his voice—low, strained—made her chest ache.
“Dante…” she whispered.
The moment she focused on him, the pain receded further, pulling back like a tide retreating from shore.
She blinked.
“That’s… weird.”
“Yeah,” a familiar voice cut in. “We noticed.”
Her head turned slightly.
Abdie.
Standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, expression torn between concern and theatrical disbelief.
“Oh thank the goddess,” he said dramatically. “She wakes up and the first thing she does is critique the pain management.”
She let out a weak, breathy laugh.
Lina stood beside him, arms folded, eyes sharp and assessing—but relief flickered unmistakably across her face.
A doctor stood nearby, tablet in hand, watching the monitors with keen interest.
“You’re easing,” the doctor said slowly, eyes darting between Ferial and Dante. “Significantly.”
Ferial frowned. “Easing… how?”
The doctor hesitated.
Dante stiffened.
Abdie leaned forward eagerly. “Oh, this is the part where we learn something life-altering, isn’t it?”
Lina shot him a look. “Abdie.”
“What? I’m coping.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Your body is experiencing what we call a bond-induced heat response.”
Ferial’s stomach dropped.
“…A what?”
The doctor continued carefully, “In rare cases—especially when one mate is human or mixed—the bond can… stall. Delay completion. When that happens, the body eventually attempts to force alignment.”
Ferial’s breath quickened. “Force alignment?”
“Yes,” Lina said quietly. “Your body is trying to complete the bond.”
Ferial turned to Dante slowly.
His eyes were locked on her, burning with guilt, fear, and something else—something raw and feral barely held in check.
“I didn’t know,” he said. “I swear to you. I would never—”
“I know,” she whispered.
Abdie rubbed his face. “So let me get this straight. Her body basically went, ‘Enough is enough, where is my wolf?’ and decided to riot? Basically saying they need to get laid?”
“That is… an oversimplification,” the doctor said.
Abdie nodded. “But not inaccurate.”
The doctor gestured subtly toward Dante. “When he’s close—physical contact—the symptoms reduce. His presence stabilizes her system.”
Ferial swallowed.
“That’s why it stopped hurting,” she murmured.
Dante tightened his hold instinctively.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said fiercely. “Ever.”
Abdie sniffed. “Great. Because if you had, I’d have had to fight you. And let’s be honest, that would’ve been embarrassing for everyone involved.”
Ferial laughed weakly again, then winced.
Lina moved closer. “You scared us,” she said bluntly.
“I scared myself,” Ferial admitted.
The doctor tapped his tablet. “For now, you’ll need to remain in close proximity. Extended separation could trigger another episode. Possibly worse.”
Silence fell.
Abdie broke it.
“So. Logistically speaking. Does this mean sleepovers are medically necessary now?”
“Abdie,” Lina snapped.
“What? I’m advocating for her health.”
Ferial closed her eyes briefly, then reopened them, looking up at Dante.
“Will you stay?” she asked softly.
His answer was immediate.
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No conditions.
Just certainty.
The pain hummed faintly beneath her skin, a reminder of what her body demanded—but wrapped in his arms, it felt… manageable.
For the first time since the night began, fear loosened its grip.
She wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
And whatever the bond was becoming—whatever it demanded of her—it would not be faced in silence.
Not with Dante holding her hand.
Not with Abdie being unbearable at her bedside.
Not with Lina watching like a hawk.
And definitely not with the goddess done making herself known.
Something had been set into motion.
And there would be no turning back.
A/n: Im sick and tired of people being so rude.
If you hate my books and writing, then that's your thing.
Don't add them into lists that are shading and having some rude titles.
Also, apparently, someone had an issue with me asking my readers what they want next in a chapter and also what they suggest. Apparently, it means that me interacting means that I am not writing my own things.
From now onwards, I'll carry on with my shit and those haters.
Please the block and delete the button. It is free because i will be blocking and muting as well.