I'd never told Aster about that moment. Never told any of them how close I'd come to losing control, how hard I'd had to fight to keep the violence off my face. Sawyer had grabbed Easton, had made the threats, had let his darkness show. But I'd been right there with him, just better at hiding it.
Maybe that made me a hypocrite. Or maybe it just made me an Alpha in love. Aster made a soft sound in her sleep — not distress, just the meaningless murmur of dreams. I stroked my thumb across her knuckles, a gentle rhythm meant to soothe, and watched her settle again.
I wondered what she was dreaming about. Before, when she'd first come to us, her sleep had been restless and guarded. She'd jerk awake at the slightest sound, eyes wild, hands raised to defend herself before she was even fully conscious. The first time I'd seen her sleep peacefully — really peacefully, without that underlying tension that said she was ready to bolt at any moment — I'd nearly cried.
Now she slept like this. Soft and open, her body curled trustingly against mine, her breath deep and even. She'd learned to feel safe. We'd taught her that.
The pride I felt at that thought was almost overwhelming.
Hope nickered softly from her stall nearby, and I smiled in the darkness. The filly — mare now, really, nearly full-grown — had been Aster's first real connection to Longhorn. She'd named her Hope in the quiet of her own heart, a secret she'd shared with me one night when the words had slipped out before she could stop them.
"That's what she feels like," Aster had admitted, her cheeks flushing, her eyes dropping like she was embarrassed to be caught feeling something so soft. "Every time I look at her. Like maybe... maybe things could be different."
Things were different now. Everything was different.
The stable was quiet around us, filled with the peaceful sounds of horses settling in for the night. The smell of hay and leather and Aster's scent — lilacs and rain and something uniquely her — wrapped around me like a blanket. I could have stayed here forever, suspended in this perfect moment, watching the woman I loved sleep safely in my arms.
But the world wouldn't let us stay suspended forever. Morning would come, and with it, reality. Easton's threats. The looming deadline. The fear that lived in all of us now, the constant awareness that something precious was at risk.
I pressed a kiss to Aster's forehead, feeling her stir slightly at the contact, her lips curving into a sleepy smile.
"Nolan?" Her voice was thick with sleep, barely more than a mumble, her eyes still closed.
"I'm here." I kept my voice low, soothing, my hand still covering hers on my chest. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart."
"Mm." She shifted closer, her leg sliding between mine, her face pressing into the hollow of my throat. "You're thinking too loud."
A surprised laugh escaped me, soft and fond. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry." Her words were slurring together, sleep already pulling her back under. "Just... come with me. Into the quiet." I didn't know exactly what she meant, but I understood anyway. She wanted me to stop worrying, stop planning, stop bracing for whatever came next. She wanted me here, in this moment, with her.
I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the feeling of her body against mine. The warmth of her skin. The steady rhythm of her breathing. The way her scent had mingled with mine until I couldn't tell where I ended and she began.
The quiet. Yes. I could do that.
"I love you." The words slipped out, barely louder than a breath, more felt than spoken.
"Love you too." Her response was automatic, instinctive, already half-lost to dreams. But the way her hand tightened on my chest, the way she pressed impossibly closer — that said everything words couldn't. I let my own breathing slow, matching hers, letting the peace of the stable seep into my bones. Tomorrow would bring its challenges. Easton, and fear, and the constant vigilance that had become our new normal. But that was tomorrow.
Tonight, there was only this. Only her. Only the quiet miracle of being allowed to love someone this much and have them love me back.
I'd spent years learning patience. Learning to wait, to trust, to let things unfold in their own time. I'd told myself that hope was dangerous, that wanting too much only led to disappointment.
The last thing I saw before sleep took me was starlight painting silver patterns on the wall, and the last thing I felt was Aster's heartbeat against my chest, steady and strong and perfectly aligned with my own.
Soon, we would bond. Soon, she would be mine in every way that mattered.
But for now — for this single, perfect moment — "soon" could wait.
We had tonight.
And tonight was enough.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
ASTER
It was supposed to be a quick trip. Marley had called that morning, her voice bright through the phone, saying my order of fabric had come in early. The emerald green silk I'd been eyeing for weeks — the one I'd been saving up for, dreaming of turning into something beautiful. Something for the bonding ceremony that was now just three weeks away.
