DOMINIC
Days had passed since our moment in the dark, and the thrill of seeing her laugh and play with the pack had worn off. And we'd shared few and far between moments since. Lena still curled into me in her sleep, even reached out when she thought I was already asleep, but during the day she was distant. Polite, like the fight had gone out of her. It was disorienting.
I loved her spirit, her fire. It unsettled me to see it dulled. To feel her pulling away again when I thought we'd made some sort of progress forward.
I watched her from across the room sometimes, the way she carried herself, the way she offered quick smiles but always seemed on the edge of running. How she seemed so desperate to connect and convinced it would never be reciprocated at the same time.
She'd finally begun making friends, spending most of her free time with Evan and his sister. I should've been glad she was settling in. It was what I wanted. But the way her shoulders hunched when she thought no one was watching, the way her smiles didn't quite reach her eyes, made my chest ache.
She was pretending. It was as infuriating as it was depressing. I didn't know what to do. It was part of the reason I'd asked her to spend the day with me. No work, no pack, no one but us. I was going to show her my–our– home properly today.
I pushed off the doorframe, where I'd been unnoticed as I watched her get ready. She adjusted the strap of her sundress, the soft fabric clinging to her in a way that made it nearly impossible to look away. She turned at the sound of my steps, her expression carefully blank.
"Ready to go?" I asked.
She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."
I held out my hand. After a beat, she placed hers in mine, her fingers trembling slightly. I squeezed her hand gently, grounding her. Her skin was warm, her pulse a fluttering bird under my thumb.
We walked outside into the late morning sun, the air sweet with the scent of honeysuckle. The estate sprawled out around us, wild and beautiful, and for a moment, it almost felt like it could be enough. Like this could be easy.
I pointed out the ancient oaks first, telling her about the pack history, claiming her small hand in mine. "My great-great-grandfather planted these when he first claimed the land," I said, brushing my hand against the rough bark. "He used to say the trees were a reflection of the pack. If they were strong, we were strong."
She smiled. "They're beautiful."
"You're beautiful," I said without thinking.
Lena's cheeks flushed, and she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, looking away. "Dom…"
"What?" I asked, stepping closer. "It's the truth."
She shook her head lightly, her laugh soft and strained. "You don't have to say things like that."
I frowned. "I don't say anything I don't mean."
"I'm just me. I mean, I know I'm not ugly, but I'm nothing special."
"You're extraordinary," I told her. "You were chosen by the moon goddess herself to be my mate. She doesn't pick 'nothing specials', only the best who can lead a people forward."
"She certainly chose well with you."
Her words and shy smile gutted me. "Us," I corrected. "There is only ever us now, Lena. I'm nothing without you. If I could do it alone, the goddess wouldn't have blessed me with you."
The flush that covered her cheeks and spread down her neck into the top of her dress was dark and lovely, her face quietly pleased, but I could hear her heart now, and it was thundering so loudly that my own answered.
"Has anyone ever told you," she swallowed, looking away, "that you have a way with words?"
I laughed. "Come on. There's a lot of ground to cover."
We moved on toward the brook that split the territory. Lena crouched down near the edge, dipping her fingers into the cold, rushing water. I sat beside her, elbows resting loosely on my knees.
She looked peaceful like this, lost in thought.
"Where did you live before?"
She glanced at me, surprised I was asking. "The city. Well, only for the last ten years. I was in Poughkepsie before, and then outside of New York City before that." She looked into the water. "I bounced between a bunch of foster homes before I aged out."
"That sounds," I hesitated. "Lonely, I guess."
"It was. It wasn't anything like your family that's for sure." She gave him a small, wry smile. "I liked living in the city, I think."
"Do you miss it very much?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes. I miss the familiarity and the obscurity. But... it wasn't exactly home either. Well, I guess there really isn't a home to return to anymore anyway. It's kind of a moot point."
Something heavy hung between us. I wanted to ask her what she meant, but she looked so fragile sitting there that I didn't push.
Instead, I nudged her lightly with my shoulder. "Well, you know, you're free to make this place familiar too. Might not have a diner on every corner, but we've got the best view."
She gave a soft laugh. "You're really bad at convincing people to stay."
I grinned. "You're still here, aren't you?"
She didn't answer, just stood and brushed the dirt from her dress. I stood too, letting my hand brush her back lightly as I followed. She didn't pull away this time, but she didn't lean in either.
We wandered toward the training fields next. Some of the warriors were sparring, their grunts and laughter filling the air. Lena paused to watch, her head tilted in curiosity.
"Do you fight, too?" she asked.
I chuckled. "I can hold my own."
She raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like something someone says when they're bad at it."
"Are you challenging me, princess?"
Her lips twitched. "Maybe."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Careful. I might take you up on that."
Her eyes flicked up to mine, wide and nervous. I realized this was the closest she'd let me get to her willingly outside of half-asleep allowances in bed, and for a second, neither of us moved. Then she cleared her throat and turned away, pretending to watch the trainees again.
We spent the next hour walking the perimeter. I showed her the garden where the omegas grew herbs for healing, the old stone ruins that dated back to before my grandfather's time.
Lena listened quietly, asked the occasional question, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere.
Still, it was the most time we'd spent together without fighting or frozen silences. It was something.
Around midday, we stopped under one of the old trees for a break. I handed her a water bottle I'd packed, and she took it with a small smile.
"Thanks," she murmured.
We sat in the shade, the quiet buzz of insects filling the air. She leaned back against the trunk, closing her eyes briefly. I watched her, memorizing the way the sunlight dappled her skin, the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks.
"You look tired," I said.
She cracked one eye open. "Gee, thanks."
I laughed. "I meant it nicely. In a concerned friend kind of way."
She smiled for real then, and it lit up her whole face. My chest tightened painfully at the sight.
"You don't have to try so hard," she said softly.
"What?"
"To make me feel comfortable. I know this isn't easy for you either."
I swallowed, surprised by the crack of emotion in her voice. "I want you to be happy here, Lena."
She looked at me for a long moment. "I know."
And maybe she did. Maybe that was the problem.
When we stood again, she stayed closer to me this time. I could almost pretend things were normal, that the bond between us wasn't a wound barely scabbed over.
We walked past the training fields again, and I caught her glancing toward the pack house. She looked nervous. On edge.
"You're quiet," I said as we reached the gardens.
Lena plucked a daisy from the edge of the path and twisted it between her fingers. "Just thinking."
"About?"
She shrugged. "Everything."
"Lena," I said, stepping closer, my voice low, pleading. "Talk to me."
Her hands trembled slightly. "There's nothing to say."
"Don't lie to me."
She laughed, brittle. "You know everything, don't you?"
"No," I said, searching her face. "But I know when you're hurting."
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She looked away, lips pressing into a thin line.
I reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched. She turned her face toward me, and for a heartbeat, the world stilled.
I lowered my head slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. Our noses brushed. Her lips parted. I could feel the heat of her breath, the way she swayed closer despite herself.
And then—
Lena jerked back like she'd been burned.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, stepping away. "I can't. I'm sorry."
I stared at her, stunned, confusion and hurt crashing through me. The rejection cut deeper than I wanted to admit.
Lena looked down at the daisy in her hand, now crushed and broken. She smoothed the petals absently.
"Thank you," she said, her voice trembling. "For today."
"Thank you?" I repeated, feeling the words like a slap.
"I'm meeting Evan and his sister soon. They invited me to play a card game," she said, forcing a smile. "But I'll see you tonight. After, at bedtime."
Evan. The name sank like a stone in my stomach.
Lena stepped around me, not meeting my eyes, and walked back toward the estate. Her scent lingered, sweet and aching. I stood rooted to the spot, fists clenching at my sides.
She was meeting Evan.
After everything—after I spent the whole day trying to make her happy, trying to show her—
My vision blurred with fury. My wolf snarled inside me, demanding I chase after her, drag her back, make her see.
But I didn't move.
I stood alone, the broken daisy at my feet, the ghost of her almost-kiss still burning on my lips.