[The Morning After]
Lyra woke with a start, her body no longer burning with fever, but her mind... her mind was ablaze.
As she sat up quickly, the memories of the night before slammed into her like a tidal wave. The heat, the desperation, Casian's arms around her, the humiliating hunger that had driven her to beg—her cheeks burned with shame.
It had started so suddenly, without the usual warning signs others seemed to sense. Another cruel reminder of what she lacked. No wolf. No instincts. No control.
A knock on the door broke through her spiraling thoughts. Penny entered with her usual bright smile and a tray in hand.
"My lady, you're awake!" Her voice carried that morning cheer that Lyra found oddly comforting.
She barely noticed the tray until the scent of the herbal tea reached her nose. Her gaze fell on the familiar cup, and a fresh wave of heat flushed her face—she remembered now. After Casian had left, Penny had brought her the same tea, the one that eased the worst of the heat and let her fall into a half-sleep.
"Here, drink this on an empty stomach so you don't feel any discomfort," Penny said gently, offering her the cup.
Lyra took it gratefully and downed the contents in one go, the warm bitterness anchoring her thoughts. But no amount of tea could erase the mortifying truth.
She had kissed him.
She had begged him to touch her.
And Casian… he had stopped it.
Thank the moon he had stopped it.
Her fingers curled around the empty cup, and a knot twisted in her stomach at the thought of facing him again.
She quickly grabbed her notebook and scribbled, Where is Casian?
Penny glanced at the page, then said, "The Alpha is out for business. He won't be back until late tonight."
Relief surged through her like a tide, and she let out a slow, grateful exhale.
"You don't want to see him?" Penny asked curiously.
Lyra froze mid-motion, then shook her head quickly, her eyes wide with unspoken mortification.
Penny didn't press. She went back to tidying up the room, humming softly to herself, but Lyra remained still—her mind loud with thoughts.
She was trapped here. Running wasn't an option, and staying in this room all day only made her feel more useless. She didn't belong anywhere. Not in her family's house, where she'd been treated like a servant. And not here, where silence and shadows greeted her at every turn.
At least back in Moonveil, she'd had something to do. Scrubbing floors, preparing meals, enduring orders—it had given her purpose. Here, she was surrounded by luxury she didn't know how to enjoy. It felt… wrong.
She glanced at the garden through the window but instantly shook the thought away.
Not after last night.
Her pulse spiked at the memory of Rowan—the man who had tried to kill her.
Or had he?
She bit her lip and looked at Penny again, waving her over. The maid came obediently, though she hesitated when Lyra patted the space beside her on the bed.
Lyra frowned slightly and reached out, gently tugging Penny to sit. Once she did, Lyra quickly wrote:
Is there a rogue living in this house? He attacked me the night I arrived.
Penny blinked in confusion, reading the note twice. "A rogue? Do you mean… Delta Rowan?"
Lyra's heart skipped. Delta? That name—yes, Casian had called him Rowan. Her breath hitched, and she nodded quickly.
Penny tilted her head. "But why would he attack you? Rowan is the Alpha's closest friend. He would never hurt someone Casian protects."
Lyra frowned, her stomach turning with unease.
Maybe he didn't see her as someone worth protecting.
She was mute, wolfless, and weak. Rowan had probably been disgusted by the Alpha's decision to bring her here. And she didn't blame him.
That insecurity crept in again, wrapping around her like a familiar cloak. She looked away, clutching her notebook tightly, not writing anything more.
The day dragged.
Meals were brought in on time. Penny checked on her periodically. She had her comforts, her medicines. But as night fell, loneliness crept in.
A hollow, aching kind of solitude.
It wasn't just about being alone in a room—it was the silence of being unwanted. The emptiness of not belonging anywhere, even to herself.
And worse still… she found herself wondering where Casian was.
She shouldn't care. But his absence gnawed at her.
Was it the bond? Was it the memory of his arms holding her steady when she'd all but broken down? Or was it something deeper, something more dangerous?
She forced the thought away and reached for the small, weathered letter tucked inside the drawer.
Her mother's letter.
The only piece of love she had ever known.
She unfolded it slowly, eyes trailing over the fading ink. Her mother had written it just before giving birth, knowing she might not survive.
"You are more than what others say you are. You are not broken. You are loved."
Lyra ran her fingers over the words, blinking back the sting in her eyes. If only she could believe them.
Eventually, exhaustion won. She lay curled up on the bed, the letter clutched to her chest, eyes fluttering closed.
She didn't even realize she'd fallen asleep—until the creak of the door stirred her.
Her lashes fluttered open slightly, but she kept still.
Casian.
He moved soundlessly across the room, his steps careful, measured. Her heart pounded as he approached. She shut her eyes tighter, feigning sleep.
She wasn't ready to face him. Not yet.
She heard the soft rustle of his clothes, then felt the bed dip beside her. A moment later, warmth engulfed her.
Casian's scent.
His arms slipped around her from behind, and his face buried into the crook of her neck.
Her entire body went rigid.
Why?
Why was he here? Why was he holding her like this?
She remained still, barely breathing.
She didn't understand this man—didn't understand his silence, his choices, his walls. One minute he was cold, distant, unreadable. The next, he was shielding her from herself and holding her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.
She wasn't ready to ask what it meant.
And she feared the answer even more.