“Sí, cariño. It’s me.” I help her sit up slightly, arranging pillows behind her back. “Just a little soup, okay? You need strength.”
She nods weakly, her head lolling slightly before she steadies it. I reach for the bowl, filling a spoon with the clear broth.
“Small sips,” I instruct, bringing the spoon to her lips. “Take your time.”
She obeys, opening her mouth just enough for me to slip the spoon between her lips. I watch anxiously as she swallows, relief flooding me when she doesn’t immediately reject it.
“Good?” I ask.
“Good,” she confirms, her voice slightly stronger. “More.”
I feed her spoonful by careful spoonful, my heart swelling with each successful swallow. It’s not much, barely half the bowl before she turns her head away, but it’s something. A sign that she’s fighting.
“Enough,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting closed again. “Tired.”
“Of course,” I say, setting the bowl aside. “Rest now. I’ll be right here.”
I help her settle back against the pillows, tucking the blanket around her. As I move to return to my chair, her hand catches mine, surprising me with its strength.
“Stay,” she whispers, her eyes still closed. “Please.”
The simple request undoes me. I swallow hard against the sudden tightness in my throat.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, squeezing her hand gently.
She tugs weakly, pulling me closer. “No,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. “Here. With me.”
My heart stutters. “You want me to lie with you?”
A barely perceptible nod. “Warm.”
I hesitate, not wanting to crowd her or make her uncomfortable. But the plea in her voice is impossible to resist. Carefully, so carefully, I stretch out beside her on top of the covers, maintaining a small space between us.
But Zoe has other ideas. With surprising determination for someone in her condition, she shifts closer, tucking herself against my side. Her head finds a place on my chest, her arm draping weakly across my waist.
“Better,” she sighs, the word a warm breath against my shirt.
I remain frozen for a moment, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. Then, slowly, I let my arm curl around her, my hand settling on the curve of her waist. She makes a small, contented sound, her body relaxing further into mine.
“The marks,” she murmurs, her voice already fading as sleep reclaims her. “They hurt.”
“I know, cariño,” I whisper, my lips brushing her hair. “We’re going to fix it. I promise.”
She’s silent for so long, I think she’s fallen asleep. But then, so quietly I almost miss it:
“You’re a good man, Diego.” The words are slurred with exhaustion and fever, but clear enough to lodge directly in my heart. “The best of them.”
Before I can respond, her breathing deepens, her body going slack against mine as sleep claims her once more.
I lie there, stunned.The best of them? Zoe…sees me. Not as the pack’s chef, not as the least dominant alpha, not as the caretaker who fades into the background while his more assertive brothers take the lead. She seesme.
“I love you,” I whisper into her hair, the words I’ve been too afraid to say even to myself coming easily now. “I love you, and I’m going to spend every day making sure you know it.”
She doesn’t respond, lost in her healing sleep. But I swear I feel the tension in her body ease slightly, as if some part of her heard me and believed.
“Te amo, mi corazón,” I whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “And I’m never letting you go again.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
