She looked at him through her tears. "Hard to do that. We're connected in ways we can't undo."
"Jade, I'm sorry for everything. I don't know how to make this better," he said softly. "And you probably don't want to hear this either, but at the courtyard tonight, I told everyone I chose you as my mate."
"You publicly chose me? In front of the whole clan?"
"Yes. I wish you'd been there to hear my declaration." He paused. "Xylen threatened me this morning. Said I had to choose Sera or lose my title. But tonight, I didn't choose Sera. I chose you."
Something shifted in her expression—surprise perhaps, that he'd risk everything for her.
"Did you lose your position?"
"Not yet."
"What do you mean, not yet?"
"Since I announced you as my fated mate, Xylen invoked the ancient Trial of Shadow. Fated mates must prove their sacred bond by surviving a week in the deepest jungle together. It will happen in two days."
The blood drained from her face entirely. Through their bond, he felt her anxiety spike to dangerous levels.
Her eyes fluttered as she swayed, her breathing becoming shallow and rapid. "I don't feel good?—"
Without hesitation, Raikar swept her into his arms and carried her upstairs to his bathroom, stepping into the shower fully dressed and blasting the cold shower spray with her still in his arms.
The shock of icy water hit them both like lightning, their soaked clothes clinging as he held her tight against his chest, feeling her heartbeat gradually slow to match his own steady rhythm.
"Jade, everything's going to be okay. Just breathe with me."
THIRTEEN
JADE
The icy water cascaded over them both, shocking Jade's system back into focus as Raikar's strong arms anchored her against his solid chest. The frantic rhythm of her heart began to slow as she matched her breathing to his steady inhale and exhale. The cold spray bit through her panic like a slap, grounding her in the present moment rather than the overwhelming cascade of revelations that had sent her spiraling.
Breathe. Just breathe.
But as her nervous system recalibrated, a new awareness crept in—she was shivering violently now, her torn shirt and leggings from the panther attack clinging to her skin like icicles. The fabric felt heavy and restrictive, and through the partial bond, she felt Raikar's immediate concern spike as he registered her trembling.
Without hesitation, he reached behind her to shut off the spray and stepped them both out of the shower stall. Water dripped steadily from their soaked forms onto the marble floor as he set her gently on her feet, his hands steady and sure.
"Arms up," he commanded softly.
She lifted her arms without protest, too exhausted to fight him on this. His movements were clinical yet reverent as hepeeled the destroyed shirt over her head, then unhooked her bra with practiced efficiency. When he knelt to help her step out of her leggings and panties, there was nothing sexual in his touch—only the focused attention of a mate ensuring her comfort and safety.
This is different from before. Earlier, his hands worshipped every inch of me. Now he's just... taking care of me.
The realization sent an unexpected warmth through her chest.
He wrapped a massive, plush towel around her, tucking it securely before stepping back to deal with his own soaked uniform. The sight of him methodically removing his formal General's attire—the polished black boots, the black dress pants, the black ceremonial jacket with its gleaming insignia and medals, the crisp black shirt—made her stomach clench with guilt.
"You ruined your uniform," Jade said, her voice still shaky.
Raikar paused in pulling off his boxers to look at her, his blue eyes fierce with conviction. "I don't care. I can get another uniform. Your well-being is more important than any piece of clothing."
The weight of his statement settled over her like a warm blanket. Ben had never prioritized her needs over his convenience, let alone over something as significant as his professional appearance. But here was Raikar, a General who commanded respect from an entire clan, standing in his bathroom in nothing but boxers, completely unconcerned about sacrificing his formal attire to help her through a crisis.
He stripped off his boxers and wrapped a towel around his lean waist before moving to her side again. "Come on. Let's get you warm."
His hand found the small of her back, guiding her out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. The space felt differentnow than when she'd discovered his poetry collection—more intimate, more significant. This wasn't just exploring his private sanctuary anymore.
