Third Person’s POV
:
Sss voice was hoarse, almost breaking with the weight of his confession.
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“I won’t do it again,” he whispered, pressing hisrger hand over Freya’s where it rested against his cheek. His skin was fever-warm, his face brushing tenderly into her palm as though her touch alone tethered him. “Freya, I’ll listen. I’ll be good. I swear it.”
The murmur was low, raw, and yet it rang like a lover’s vow.
Freya’s breath caught. For all his reputation as the Irond Alpha of the Coalition, Ss now looked nothing like a predator. He seemed more like a massive hound begging for mercy, amber eyes fixed on her with such intensity it almost burned.
Her body stiffened. Saints, those eyes were dangerous-wolf-bright, shamelessly devoted, and brimming with something that wed straight at her defenses. He was a man who could level armies, and yet here he was, clinging to her like a desperate pup.
“That… that’s good then,” she managed, throat tight, trying to pull her hand back before her heartbeat betrayed her.
But his grip remained iron around her wrist, his dominance strong yet trembling at the edges, as if he feared letting her go meant losing her forever.
“I’m thirsty,” she said quickly, searching for a way to break the moment. “Let go of me-I’ll get tea.”
“I’ll get it,” Ss countered, his voice husky. His free hand reached without hesitation, snaring the porcin cup of herbal tea from the low table. He tilted it back, taking a mouthful, then lowered it again with deliberate slowness.
Her brows knit. “You-”
Before she could finish, he leaned in. The realization hit her a breath toote. Freya’s lips parted on instinct, and heat surged up her neck as his mouth met hers
-hot tea, steam, and all.
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The kiss was not soft. It was iming, insistent, fireced with the faint taste of herbs. The warmth of the liquid spread between them, mingling with the molten press of his lips, until she was half convinced his intent was to brand her with proof of his devotion.
Freya should have resisted. She should have pushed him back. But when she met his gaze-pleading, reverent, so terribly afraid she’d turn him away—her willpower faltered. With a quiet sigh, she slid her free hand up, fingers curling around the back of his neck, letting him draw her deeper into the kiss.
After all… he was her mate, her chosen one. And if this was how Ss needed to prove his heart, then for once, she could indulge him.
The tea burned away, leaving only the heat of his mouth and the fierce thrum of his wolf against hers. It was fervent, consuming, a kiss that spoke of love and desperation and a bond he would fight the world to keep.
Two dayster, Aurora was discharged from Medical Hall. Her injuries from the abduction had been superficial-scrapes, bruises, nothing more. She emerged from the ward with her father, Duke, her mother Emilia, and her fiancé, Caelum Grafton.
Aurora’s expression was stormy, her voice sharp enough to cut ss. “That bastard who daredy hands on me-I’ll see him rot. He humiliated me. I’ll repay him double. Caelum, I want the best trial, the harshest sentence. Find me awyer who’ll make sure he never breathes free air again!”
Caelum hesitated. “Aurora, that man…”
“You’re not suggesting mercy, are you?” Emilia snapped, ring. “Caelum, she’s your betrothed! If you don’t protect her, how can I ever entrust my daughter to you?”
He opened his mouth, torn between truth and duty, when the hospital entrance erupted in chaos. A surge of reporters barreled toward them, cameras shing, microphones shoved forward like weapons.
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“Aurora!” one shouted. “During the abduction, you admitted you once abandoned a seniorrade who had shown you kindness. Was that true? What were you thinking?”
Aurora froze, color draining from her face.
“Is it true the man who abducted you was the son of that fallen soldier?” another pressed. “Do you believe his actions were justified revenge?”
“Rumors say the Ashbourne Legion are reviewing your past conduct. If your ‘hero pilot’mendation is revoked, will you protest? Or resign?”
Questions exploded like grenades, every lens and sh targeting her like wolves circling fresh prey. Aurora flinched beneath the barrage, herposure fracturing.
“I have noment! Move aside!” she barked, raising her arm to shield her face. But the mob only pressed harder, the scent of their eagerness acrid in the air.
Caelum tried to throw his weight forward, his Alpha aura ring, but the sheer press of bodies shoved him back. Duke and Emilia were crushed against the tide, faces twisted with indignation and fear.
“My earrings! My bag!” Emilia shrieked. “That’s a luxury import, you vultures! You’ve ruined it-do you think you can afford to pay?”
Her shrill voice was drowned beneath the reporters’ demands, their frenzy cresting until hospital guards finally forced their way through, shoving the mob back.
Aurora, hair wild and eyes wide with panic, stumbled toward the car. Emilia’s cosmetics were smeared, her prized bag crushed into ruin, one of her golden earrings bent beyond repair.
Breathless, she rounded on Caelum the moment the doors mmed shut. “And you call yourself a man? You didn’t protect me-and you didn’t even protect Aurora! She’s your fiancée!”
“I-” Caelum began, but Vaughn cut him off with a scowl.
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“This was negligence, Caelum. You should’ve anticipated the press. You should’ve had them blocked before we even left the ward.”
“Exactly,” Emilia chimed in bitterly, holding up her ruined bag. “And what of this? And my earring? If you expect to be my son-inw, you’ll rece them. Do you know what they cost me?”
Aurora sat in silence, shoulders trembling, rage and humiliation twisting inside her chest. She had sworn she would make the world fear her again, but in this moment, she looked less like a decorated pilot and more like a wolf cornered, teeth bared but powerless.
And Caelum, for all his power as Alpha of Silverfang, could only sit in strained silence, his gaze slipping once toward Freya Thorne’s name echoing through his thoughts-wondering, perhaps, what she would have done in his ce.