LUCIAN’S P.O.V.
As Teresa led into my room, I felt the tension rolling off her in waves. Her hand was firm but gentle as she guided toward the bed, a blend of resolve and hesitation in every step. When we reached the edge, she softly said, "Sit," and I obliged, sinking into the mattress.
She moved to take the baby from my arms. "I’ll put her to bed in my room. You should get so rest," she said, her tone clipped but civil. Always civil—so painfully civil these days.
"I, uh..." I hesitated, scratching the back of my neck. Ares growled in frustration. "Say it, you fool!"
I tightened my hold on the baby, cradling my child against my chest. "Wait." My voice was softer than I intended, almost pleading. "Teresa, could you... could you and the babies stay here tonight? Just for tonight."
"What?" she asked, incredulous.
Her breath hitched, and I could hear her heartbeat stutter and then race. I knew she was already forming a polite refusal, her lips probably pressed into that determined line I’d seen countless tis.
"I know you don’t owe anything," I continued quickly, "but this is my first night like... this." I gestured vaguely to my unseeing eyes. "It feels like I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from. I’d call soone else to stay, but—" I swallowed hard, letting the vulnerability seep into my words. "I can’t let anyone else see like this. Weak."
I wasn’t entirely lying. The thought of being alone, shrouded in this endless darkness, terrified . But more than that, I just wanted her here. To feel her presence, to hear her voice, to remind myself that she and our children were real and still within reach, no matter how far away she kept herself emotionally.
Her silence stretched, her internal debate almost visible. Ares growled in my head, "She’s wavering. Don’t let her go!"
"Relax," I muttered under my breath. "I know what I’m doing."
"What?" Teresa asked sharply, her voice tinged with suspicion.
"Nothing," I said with a sheepish smile, handing the baby back to her. "It’s okay if you don’t want to stay. I wouldn’t want to force you."
Her grip tightened slightly on the baby, and her heart thudded an uneven rhythm. "Lucian..." she started, her tone apologetic.
I shook my head, keeping my smile in place. "It’s fine. Really. Go ahead. I’m just going to take a shower and call it a night." I stood and made my way toward the bathroom, deliberately slow and careful.
Ares chuckled darkly. "Smooth, Alpha. Real smooth. She’s halfway to the door—"
"Not for long," I murmured. A table lood in my path—Ares had warned about it, but I ignored him. With calculated precision, I "tripped," my shin colliding hard with the edge. The sharp pain was real enough to pull a groan from my lips as I hit the floor.
"Lucian!" Teresa’s voice was frantic, and her hurried footsteps made smirk inwardly. She was at my side in an instant, helping sit up. Her hands fluttered uncertainly before finally gripping my arms to steady .
"You need to be more careful!" she scolded, her voice laced with genuine worry.
"Sorry," I mumbled, letting my head hang slightly for effect. "Didn’t an to scare you."
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
"I’ll be fine," I said with a sigh. "You should get going. I’ll manage."
She hesitated, her hands still on my arms. Then, after a long pause, she said, "No. I’ll stay. It’s... safer this way. I’d worry all night if I left you alone."
Relief washed over , but I masked it with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Teresa. Truly."
Ares let out a victorious howl in my head. "You manipulative genius."
"Maybe if I hadn’t been such a stubborn idiot two years ago, we wouldn’t need to stoop as low as manipulation," I said to him silently suddenly feeling a new wave of annoyance at myself. "Now, hush. Let handle this."
Teresa helped back onto the bed and placed Mai and Ollie in my arms. "Stay put," she ordered. "I’ll get my things and be back soon."
"Take your ti," I said warmly. "I’ll be waiting."
When she returned about thirty minutes later, the room was awash with the scent of her freshly showered skin mingled with the subtle fragrance of lavender from her shampoo. It wasn’t overpowering, just enough to linger and stir sothing within . The aroma was captivating, even to my human senses, wrapping around like a warm embrace. The combination was almost dizzying.
She stepped closer, her movents deliberate yet soft. Without a word, she reached for the babies cradled in my arms. Her touch was gentle, her maternal instinct radiating as she tucked them carefully into the bed, ensuring their small forms were snug beneath the covers. Once the twins were settled, she turned to , "Your turn," she said, her voice quiet but firm.
I hesitated for a mont just listening to her soft but nervous breathing. There was an unspoken tension in the room—a heaviness we both pretended not to notice. But I obeyed, rising to my feet and letting her help guide gently toward the bathroom.
Later, after I’d returned, we lay side by side on the bed, the twins nestled safely between us. Their rhythmic breathing was a soothing backdrop, yet the silence between us grew louder with every passing second.
I could feel Teresa fidgeting, her movents small but telling. She was never one to hide her emotions for long, and I could sense the internal battle raging within her. She wanted to speak, to let out one of her unending question that always served as her defense chanism, but sothing held her back.
Eventually, the silence beca unbearable, and she spoke. Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—a blend of curiosity and defiance. "Are you ready to tell what ’Luna’ ans?"
The question caught off guard, though I tried not to show it. I turned toward her, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Absolutely," I said, my voice low and teasing. "But fair warning—it’s a story that might make your heart race."
Her scoff was soft but unmistakable, and for the first ti in so long, I felt a flicker of genuine hope. Maybe the bridge between us wasn’t entirely burned.
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