The knot in my chest eases a fraction, but not enough. Because she’s still holding something back. I can see it in the way her hands fidget at her sides, in the shadows under her eyes.
I step closer, careful, giving her every chance to stop me. When she doesn’t, I lift a hand to her cheek. Her breath catches, then she leans into the touch, like she’s soaking in my warmth.
“What is going on with you, Rowan?” I ask quietly.
Her throat works, like she’s trying to swallow something too heavy. “I can’t…” Her eyes flick to mine, filled with a hundred things she isn’t saying. “I just can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”
Her agony tears up my insides. I want more than anything for her to share this weight with me, but more than that, I need her to know that she’s not alone, and I respect her decision.
“Okay,” I say softly. “But I’m not going anywhere. If your plan is to push me away, it won’t work. Not unless you specifically tell me that you don’t want me and our bond.”
The shimmer in her eyes undoes me, but it’s what she does next that carves straight into my chest.
Rowan rises onto her toes, fingers curling in my shirt for balance as she presses her lips to mine. It’s quick, tentative, but she doesn’t retreat. When she lingers, only a breath of space left between us, I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer.
Her deep inhale says everything she hasn’t.
My mate needs me.
And if all I can give her is my touch, then I’ll give her every part of it.
I tilt her chin, claiming her mouth again, but not like last night. This isn’t desire or need. It’s slower and softer and longing. My tongue brushes hers with care, leaving room for her to choose the pace. But when her fists tighten in my shirt, holding me like I’m the only steady thing left in her world, I realize she isn’t looking for control.
She’s looking for peace.
So, I give it. One arm tightens around her waist, anchoring her to me, while the other cradles the back ofher head. I kiss her like a promise and that she knows how precious she is to me, even if the words don’t make it past my lips right then.
My thumb strokes her cheek, catching a tear as it slips free. The wetness knocks the air from my lungs, and I ease back just enough to see her face. “Rowan,” I murmur, voice rough, “you’re killing me.”
“I’m okay,” she says with grit, and when she smiles this time, I can almost believe her. “Whatever this is, I’ll find a way past it, I promise.”
“I want to help you.”
She shakes her head. “I need to work through this particular thing on my own.”
Something tells me that’s not necessarily the truth. With as close as Archie’s been to her this morning, I bet he knows. I look for him at her feet still—awkwardness momentarily filling me—but he’s not there. He’s back on the bed, facing away from us. At least he’s respectful.
I give Rowan my full attention again as I exhale slowly. “If you need me to let this go, I can, but if things get worse, if there’s something bothering you that I can do anything about…”
She cups my face with both hands and kisses me once more before stepping back. “You’ll be the first to know.” Her hands smooth over her body like maybe she can wipe away the evidence of her distress. “What time does training start today?”
My eyes narrow. “I think we should take today off.”
“Absolutely not.” Her arms cross over her chest, chin tilting stubbornly. “I’m making good progress, and we can’t afford any setbacks. Not with what Elias shared.”
She’s not wrong.
“Only if you’re sure, we can go whenever you’re ready.” My gaze flicks toward the door. “The others want to join us, too. They mentioned at breakfast that it’d be smart to train together. Get everyone on the same page.”
Rowan nods once, determination in the set of her jaw. “Good. Then let’s go.”
The morning air is sharp and clean when we get to our makeshift training area. The sun sits low, casting long shadows across the grass, and the chill carries the scent of determination. All of which comes from Rowan.
At least she knows what she needs in order to work through whatever is tormenting her.
She stays beside me, her shoulders squared, eyes focused like she’s daring the world to challenge her. She’s putting on a brave face, but still, I watch her closely.
Liz is already there, stretching with her favorite daggers lying on the ground next to her. Archie is pacing in his Great Dane form—his size alone is enough to remind everyone he’s not just a decoration. And Iris, she’s leaning against the fence, needles clicking as she knits with alarming speed. A bright purple ball of string bobs beside her fanny pack.
