LISA
Kellan looks more tired than I’ve ever seen him. Aside from a drug-induced nap of about forty-five minutes, he hasn’t slept since returning from the ambush, and I heard—from the others—he didn’t sleep much before then, either.
The hospital chair digs into my back as I shift position for the tenth ti in as many minutes. Kellan’s face is a stoic mask, but he’s perspiring hard.
He might be able to pretend he’s fine, but sweat doesn’t lie.
The real problem, though, is... he’s being strangely distant.
Doesn’t really want around.
Even told to leave earlier. Not with a raised voice or a nasty tone, but basically said it’s better for to help out than hover over him. Aren’t I supposed to hover?
He’s my mate. This is how relationships work. I’m trying to make it work, but now he’s the one pushing away. Which is fine, but the mixed signals make it hard for to know what to do—though I’ve gained an incredible amount of insight on how hard everything must have been for him, dealing with .
I don’t deserve this man.
My hand hovers over his. Is this overstepping? Making promises I’m not sure I can keep? The mate bond thing terrifies , but I’m pretty sure I’m in it now. Fully in. Jumped right into the deep end and I’m treading water here.
I pull back slightly, but before my hand retreats, his shoots out and captures mine. His grip is warm and solid and everything I ever thought it would be.
"You okay?" His voice is low and rough with exhaustion, though his eyes are closed. He’s probably trying to give an emotional out by not looking at . Kellan’s always been thoughtful.
Sothing hot and tight lodges in my throat. Damn it. I’m not going to cry. I sniff hard, pushing back the tears threatening to spill.
"That’s what I should be asking you, dumbass."
A hint of a smile touches his lips. "I’ve had worse."
"Liar."
His hand squeezes mine. "I just don’t like you seeing like this. Stop taking things personally."
"Seeing you like... what? Hurt?"
"Weak." The word sounds like it costs him sothing to admit.
I stare at him, incredulous. "That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Did you think we’d go our whole lives without seeing you weak?"
His eyes open at that, eting mine. Sothing shifts between us—the tension ebbs, replaced by a warmth I feel all the way to my toes.
"So..." A smile spreads across his face, transforming him from stoic warrior to mischievous boy. "You’ve been thinking about being with for the rest of your life?"
Heat floods my face. I grab at the pillow from behind his head, but purposely miss. I’m not that an. "Do you want to be smothered? Because this is how you get smothered."
He laughs—a genuine laugh, though it turns into a slight wince. He settles back against the bed. His eyes drift closed again, but the painful tension is gone from his face.
"Can you get Vanessa?" he asks after a mont.
"She’s not on shift."
"Right." He sounds fuzzy, like he’s drifting. "Any doctor then."
As if summoned by his words, the door opens, and a familiar figure in a white doctor’s coat walks in.
Dr... sothing. I don’t rember her na, but I rember her face. Kind grandma lady. Haven’t seen her since Ava was hospitalized so very, very long ago now.
"Miss Randall." She nods at before turning to Kellan. "How are you feeling, Beta Ashbourne?"
"I’ve been better," he admits.
"You’ve been in Wolf’s Landing?" I can’t keep the surprise from my voice.
"About a month ago," she confirms, checking Kellan’s IV. "Was brought in by one of the scouting parties. Good thing, too; I was on my own. Wolfing out is a young pup’s ga. I’m much more comfortable with the pack. Started working about two weeks ago."
Oh. Ti is moving. Things are changing. I missed it. It’s been easy to get lost in the bubble of my own trauma, to miss the mundane progressions happening around .
"I’m handling night shifts now so Healer Vanessa can rest more," Dr. Beaumont adds casually.
My body stiffens. "Is she okay?"
Dr. Beaumont freezes slightly, her eyes widening. "Oh dear. I suppose I shouldn’t have said anything..."
Kellan chuckles. "She’s pregnant."
"Oh. Right." I did know that. Ava ntioned it weeks ago, but sohow I never filed it under condition. It feels too magical, too life-affirming, to be sothing so clinical.
"She’ll probably start showing soon," Dr. Beaumont says, her tone gentle as she checks Kellan’s vitals. "I’ll be increasing your pain dication, Beta. You need rest to heal properly."
"Thank you," he murmurs.
The doctor moves to the cabinets, and I turn away, my gaze drifting to the dark window. He’s probably going to kick out, saying I should sleep in a bed and not the uncomfortable recliner, but I don’t want to go.
Too much has happened. I don’t feel safe by myself, but I also have no interest in playing third wheel to Lucas and Ava again after the last interruption. I’m just not sure how to approach the conversation without turning it into so sort of antagonistic stand-off.
It isn’t like I try to fight with him, but every ti I argue with him, I’m either snarky or defensive—probably not healthy in the long-term.
Gnawing at my lip, I step closer to the window, trying to squint outside. Sothing’s moving out there, but it’s hard to see in the reflection of the hospital room.
And then I see it—the Mad Prince’s face, staring at through the glass. Smiling.
I jerk back so hard I fall onto my ass, but the reflection’s already gone with a single blink.
Not him. Just my imagination.
But the damage is done. My thigh erupts in searing pain, right where the bite mark is. I press my hand against it, feeling it pulse beneath my palm. A pull starts sowhere deep inside —a horrible, familiar tether tightening.
I didn’t feel it before. I don’t think I ever noticed the tis his influence grew over . But now it’s like a creepy, crawling feeling wrapped around my soul. Like a spider walking.
"You okay?" Kellan asks, jerking upright and fighting back another wince.
I force my breathing to steady. "Yeah. I’m fine. Just... startled."
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