“Willow—”
“Please,” she cuts in, her voice barely above a whisper now. “Just…just leave me alone.”
Her eyes shine with moisture, and before I can find the words to draw her back, she turns and darts for the adjoining bathroom. The door slams shut, the sharp sound cutting through the silence like a blade that rings out in my chest and eardrums.
I stand staring at the closed door for a long moment, every muscle in my body frozen between wanting to knock and knowing better. My fingers still tingle from where they’d touched her, a cruel reminder of what I can’t have.
Not yet, maybe never.
Sucking in a slow breath, I finally step back, dragging a hand over my face. “Alright,” I whisper under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear if she’s listening. “I’ll give you space. I'm sorry, Willow. Please forgive me.”
My apology bears the weight of everything I should be apologizing for, but it's met with more silence.
The words hang in the air as I turn toward the door and leave, the echo of her heartbeat still pulsing faintly through mine, a rhythm I know I’ll never stop chasing.
For now, what Willow needs more than ever is space. Though I'm not sure what that means in the grand scheme of the demon threat, I have to consider Willow's feelings first.
It's something I failed at in the past, and I'll be damned if I make the same mistake twice and hurt her again. She doesn't deserve that.
She deserves to be put first for a change.
Chapter 10 - Willow
The moment I open my eyes, I notice that the house is quiet this morning.
So quiet that it becomes unsettling instead of welcome.
It’s the kind of silence that hums beneath my skin, like the memory of Thane's fingers where he touched my cheek last night. The silence is nearly deafening, filled with the bleating cry of two people who share the same roof but not the same peace.
I’m grateful that Thane isn’t hovering around, trying to fix what he doesn’t understand. He’s kept his distance, kept his word about giving me space, and it feels like I can breathe again. The space allows me to remember who I was before he came crashing back into my life.
It wasn't much, but my heart was safer when he wasn't around, and I prefer to keep it that way.
Still, I can’t seem to escape the way last night lingers in the back of my mind. The heat of his hand on my face had spread through my body, and for a moment, left me vulnerable and susceptible to becoming a victim of desire. The softness that shouldn’t belong to a man like him, a man who'd shown me how cruel he could be. And then there was the way he looked at me, as if he wanted to apologize for the past, but couldn’t find the words.
I shake my head fervently and pull the thin shawl tighter around my shoulders. The bedroom smells faintly of his scent, and I can’t stand it anymore. It's everywhere in this house, wrapping around me like a reminder of what I’m trying to forget.
The walls feel too small, as if they're closing in on me again, the air too stifling.
I need out.
Luckily for me, Thane has already left by the time I pluck up the courage to step outside, the cold air hitting me like a sharp and grounding embrace. Snow blankets the ground, melting slowly under the weak morning sunlight, and the quiet hum of the forest beyond the backyard feels almost peaceful.
Almost, because my emotional state is still in unrest after everything that's happened. Officially, the sub-alpha's mate, swearing to never sleep with him, I'm not sure how or where I fit in.
Nothing has changed.
The garden behind Thane's house is small, but it’s alive. Patches of green fight against frostbite, determined to survive the cold. I kneel near the flowerbeds, tracing the fragile stems with my fingers, finding a strange comfort in the life sprouting from the frozen earth.
For a moment, I almost feel free.
Until I hear footsteps approaching behind me.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually gardening,” Rissa’s playful voice slices through the silence, warm and teasing.
I close my eyes briefly, exhaling a tired sigh before glancing over my shoulder and smiling when I see her.
Despite everything, there's something about her presence that remains calming, familiar, even if I barely know her. She stands at the edge of the garden, her red cloak dusted with tiny specks of snow, her green eyes full of the kind of knowing I’m too weary to acknowledge.
