He turns off the main lights, leaving only the bedside lamps on. The room is bathed in shadows. "Bed," he commands.
I stand up. I am still wearing the grey wool dress. "Do I... do I have pajamas?"
"In the drawer. Second on the left."
I open the drawer. It is filled with silk nightgowns. Not the cheap hospital kind. Beautiful, lace-trimmed things. I pick a long one, black silk. Modest, but fluid. I go to the bathroom to change. I brush my teeth. I stare at myself in the mirror.Who are you now?You are His.
When I come out, Alaric is already in bed. He is reading a book, wearing reading glasses that make him look deceptively academic. He is on the left side.I know you sleep on your left side.He left the right side for me.
I walk to the bed. It feels like walking to the gallows. I climb in. The sheets are cool and slippery. I stay as close to the edge as possible, my back to him. There is a foot of space between us. A demilitarized zone.
"Lights out," he says. He takes off his glasses and puts the book away.The Princeby Machiavelli. Of course.
He reaches over and clicks off the lamp. Darkness swallows the room.
I lie there, stiff as a board, listening to his breathing. It is slow. Deep. "Elodie?" His voice comes from the dark, right behind me.
"Yes?"
"You are too far away. You’ll fall off."
Before I can protest, his arm snakes around my waist. He pulls me backward. I slide across the silk sheets until my back hits his chest. He is warm. A furnace. He spooning me. His arm is heavy over my stomach, holding me in place. His legs tangle with mine.
"Alaric—"
"Sleep," he commands. "I’m not going to touch you. Not like that. Not tonight." He buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. "Tonight, I just want to know you are here."
I should fight. I should scream. But the heat of him seeps into my cold bones. The weight of his arm feels like... protection. My body betrays me. My muscles relax. My heart rate slows.
"You're a monster," I whisper into the dark, a final, weak protest.
"I know," he rumbles against my neck. His grip tightens just a fraction. "Sweet dreams, my ghost."
I close my eyes. And for the first time in eight months, I fall asleep without the aid of a pill. I fall asleep in the arms of the wolf.
CHAPTER 06
PAVLOV’S BELL
POV: Elodie Fray
Location:Dr. Graves' Private Suite -> The "Glass Box" (Observation Deck)
Track:Madness– Ruelle
Sensory:The smell of roasted coffee beans, the cold bite of air-conditioning, the sterile hum of silence.
Mood:Disorientation & Conditioning.
I wake up to the sound of a heartbeat.
It is a slow, steady rhythm—thump-thump... thump-thump—strong enough to vibrate through the cheek I have pressed against a hard, warm surface. For a haze-filled second, I am back in my childhood bedroom, and the sound is just the grandfather clock in the hallway. I am safe. I am Elodie.
Then, I inhale. Sandalwood. Expensive scotch. And the musk of a man.
Memory crashes into me like a tidal wave. The rain. The chase. The bite on my hand. The playlist. The Monster.
I stiffen, my eyes snapping open. I am tangled. My left leg is thrown over a pair of heavy, muscular thighs covered in black silk. My arm is draped across a broad chest. And his arm—heavy as a steel beam—is wrapped securely around my waist, holding me flush against him.
