chapter 53
Dante woke her before the birds or sun did.
Not gently this time, but firm enough that she knew not to sleep through.
He brushed his thumb along the back of her neck, close to the fading mark, and whispered against her ear, “Up. Before the sun catches us being lazy.”
She groaned into the blanket. “You’re cruel.”
“You survived camping in sacred wolf territory,” he murmured. “You can survive the day before sunrise comes.”
The fire had burned down to embers. The air was crisp, the kind that nipped at bare fingers. He moved quietly, feeding the flames just enough to boil water in a small metal pot. The soft rolling sound filled the clearing.
Ferial sat up slowly, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as she watched him work.
“You’re always awake before everyone,” she said.
“I like the world before it starts demanding things and it gives me some sense of control. Although it seems as though I am in control of most things.”
He handed her a tin cup of warm water with honey and crushed herbs. “Sip.”
She obeyed, eyes half-closed. “If you ever step down from being a terrifying pack royalty Alpha, you could open a survival retreat.”
He snorted. “That’s not retirement. That’s worse.”
Breakfast was simple—oats softened in hot water, dried fruit, a bit of leftover meat from the night before. Nothing grand. But sitting there on stone, steam rising into the pale blue of almost-morning, it felt intimate.
When she finished, he crouched in front of her with quiet focus.
“Come here,” he said.
She shifted closer.
He helped her into fresh clothes from the storage—warmer layers for the drive back. His hands were careful, deliberate. He adjusted the collar of her top, smoothed the fabric at her shoulders like he was committing the shape of her to memory.
Then he stepped behind her.
“Your hair,” he said softly.
She stiffened just a little. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
His fingers slid gently through her hair, detangling with more patience than she expected. He separated it into sections, braiding loosely so it would sit comfortably beneath her scarf. He wrapped the thin fabric around her head, tucking it in neatly.
“There,” he murmured.
She turned to look at him.
Something about the way he was watching her made her chest tighten.
“What?” she asked.
“You look like you belong everywhere,” he said quietly.
The drive back to the estate felt different. Less tension. More ease.
When they pulled into the estate grounds, a few wolves were already waiting near the main entrance. Word traveled fast here. Nothing went unnoticed.
Two stepped forward immediately to unload the vehicle.
“Morning, Alpha,” one greeted respectfully.
Dante nodded once. “Careful with that pack.”
Ferial tried not to shrink under the assessing glances, but Dante’s hand found the small of her back, steady and warm.
“They’re just curious,” he murmured under his breath.
“Curious is a polite word,” she whispered back.
He almost smiled.
Instead of leading her toward his wing, he steered her in the opposite direction—toward the grander, older part of the estate.
“My parents’ wing,” he explained.
Her steps slowed slightly. “Right now?”
“They insisted.”
“That doesn’t make it less intimidating.”
He leaned closer. “They adore you.”
“That doesn’t make it less intimidating either.”
---
The doors opened before they knocked.
His mother stood there in soft cream and gold, already glowing like she had been waiting at the door for the past hour.
“There you are!” she exclaimed, pulling Ferial into an embrace before she could prepare for it. “Look at you—outdoors and alive.”
His father appeared behind her, composed but amused. “You survived him in the wilderness. That’s promising.”
Ferial laughed nervously. “Barely kept up.”
They were ushered inside before she could gather herself.
The breakfast table was already laid—fresh bread, fruit, eggs, cheeses, tea. Sunlight poured through tall windows, making everything feel warmer than it probably was. They tried to explain they ate early this morning, but that too fell on deaf ears.
They had barely sat when his mother began.
“So,” she said brightly, pouring tea, “do you know what your dear friend Abdie has been putting Lina through?”
Dante sighed. “Mother—”
“Oh no, she deserves to know.” She leaned toward Ferial conspiratorially. “He has dragged that poor girl through every boutique in the city.”
Ferial blinked. “Abdie? Shopping? And Lina definitely is no 'poor girl' shes more scary then Dante at times.”
“Obsessively,” his mother confirmed. “Curtains. Bedding. Decorative pillows. I didn’t even know he had opinions about decorative pillows.”
Dante rubbed his temple. “He absolutely does.”
His father chuckled into his coffee. “He was arguing about thread count yesterday.”
Ferial burst into laughter. “That sounds exactly like him. Dramatic over the smallest things.”
His mother nodded vigorously. “And the fussing! He won’t let her carry anything. Won’t let her out of his sight. It’s almost theatrical.”
Dante muttered, “He’s nesting.”
His mother grinned. “Exactly. And without the pups. Perhaps soon, hey?”
Then she turned her full attention to Ferial.
“And speaking of nesting…”
Ferial froze mid-bite.
Dante closed his eyes. “Mother.”
“What?” she said innocently. “It’s a natural progression.”
Ferial swallowed carefully. “Progression?”
“Pups,” his mother said plainly. “Have you thought about it? Marking. Mating and sex. All of the above and you are already marked sweetheart.”
The word seemed to echo.
Pups.
Children.
Family.
Ferial’s hands went still in her lap.
“In the district…” she began slowly, voice honest, “I never really thought I would marry. Besides my grandparents, there werent really examples to look up to. Here and there, but life is a struggle, even if you were married.”
The table quieted.
“Or have children,” she added. “It wasn’t something… accessible. You don’t imagine futures you don’t think you’ll reach or provide for.”
Dante’s gaze shifted to her sharply.
She continued, softer now. “But with him…”
Her fingers brushed lightly against Dante’s on the table.
“Maybe I would want to give him a family,” she admitted. “If that’s something he wants. Something we decide.”
Silence stretched—but not heavy.
Just real.
His mother’s expression softened completely.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said gently. “You have time. There’s no rush.”
She turned to Dante. “And you?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
He looked at Ferial first.
Then at his mother.
“I would love children,” he said calmly. “When she’s ready.”
Ferial’s breath caught.
“But right now,” he continued, steady and firm, “we’re building something. We’re learning each other. The bond is still settling.”
His mother nodded approvingly. “Good.”
His father spoke for the first time since the topic shifted. “What happens will happen. At the right time.”
Ferial hadn’t realized she’d been holding tension in her shoulders until it eased.
Midway through breakfast, Dante leaned closer to her.
“Finish your tea,” he murmured quietly.
She glanced at him suspiciously. “Why?”
“I have something to tell you.”
Her heart skipped.
When his parents became distracted in conversation, he leaned in further, voice low enough that only she could hear.
“I’m taking you somewhere.”
She blinked. “Where?”
“An island.”
Her brows furrowed. “An island?”
He said softly. “Private stretch. Warm water. No patrols. No expectations.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re serious?”
“My father approved it,” he added, nodding subtly toward the head of the table. “Security will be minimal but controlled.”
She stared at him. “You want to take me on… a holiday?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He held her gaze steadily.
“Because you deserve to experience beauty without it being monitored.”
Her throat tightened.
“When?” she asked.
“Soon,” he replied. “Just us.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve never been on a holiday.”
His thumb brushed against her wrist under the table.
“Then let me give you your first.”
She didn’t notice his mother watching them with a soft, knowing smile.
"Dante?" She whispered.
"Yeah Ferial?"
"Hope its not a lake like in the district then you say its a private stretch." He could not help but give a goddess honest laugh.