When we reached my chamber, he stopped at the threshold like he'd hit an invisible wall.
I pushed the door open, and at once, soft candlelight spilled out, pooling in golden glows that danced along the stone walls.
The air was warm, almost drowsy with the scent of roses and the deeper, richer note of vanilla oil. Petals scattered over the silk coverlet, across the polished floor, even floating in a shallow bowl by the window.
It was the kind of scene that wrapped itself around you like a lover's embrace before you even stepped inside.
He didn't move.
His eyes swept slowly — from the flicker of the tall candles on the carved dresser, their flames casting shadows that seemed to breathe, to the crystal vase overflowing with white roses by the window, then back to me.
The puzzled lift of his brow sent something fluttering through my stomach that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the way he looked at me like I was some beautiful riddle he couldn't solve.
"I thought…" I said softly, letting a small, almost shy smile play at my lips, "…I should prepare. Just in case you came to me."
"But isn't morning right now?" His gaze dropped once more to the candles and flowers, lingering on details — the way the petals caught the light, how the vanilla scent seemed to cling to the very air.
Naturally, I sealed the room's windows to create a nighttime scene, so that we wouldn't care about time in this room.
"And, Why… flowers?" he asked, voice genuine, almost innocent in its confusion.
I blinked, caught off guard.
"Why not…?" Then my own curiosity sparked. "Wait — tell me something. When a wolf finds his mate, where does it… happen?"
He answered without hesitation, like it was the most natural truth in the world. "Normally? Wolves claim their mate in the forest. Under the moon."
And suddenly, everything clicked into place. My smile twisted, somewhere between fondness and exasperation.
Of course — to this wild, magnificent man, soft candlelight and scattered rose petals were foreign as speaking in tongues.
"That's why," I murmured, more to myself than to him.
"What is?" he asked, that small frown still creasing between his brows.
"Never mind," I said, shaking my head with a quiet sigh, though inside I wanted to laugh and weep at once. This beautifully untamed man had no idea what flowers and candles meant to a woman preparing her heart along with her body.
I walked past him, deliberately letting my shoulder brush against the solid warmth of his arm, and lifted my chin toward the bathroom. "Go. I'll come after I get the towels and soap."
He obeyed, his footsteps echoing softly as he disappeared through the half-open door.
I gathered a fresh towel from the cedar chest, soft as silk beneath my fingers, and a bar of smooth lavender soap that smelled like summer evenings.
When I stepped in after him, the room was already hazed with steam, the warm scent of heated water curling into the air like incense.
And then I saw him.
My breath caught before I could stop it.
The shirt was gone, dropped carelessly by the marble basin.
Lamplight slid over the wide plane of his back like honey, catching on every ridge and valley of muscle that shifted beneath skin marked by pale scars — old ones, each a story of battles both human and beast.
The curve of his shoulders was powerful enough to make my mouth go dry, the deep bracket of his waist narrowing to lean hips, the taut line of his spine drawing my gaze downward like a path I wanted to trace with my fingers.
He poured water over himself from a pewter basin, the thin stream catching the light as it ran over the ridges of muscle, following the groove of his spine down to the small of his back.
Drops clung for heartbeats before sliding lower, and I found myself watching each one like it mattered.
Then he turned.
The sight hit me like an arrow to the heart. The cut of his chest was broad, powerful, dusted with dark hair that narrowed as it trailed down.
The slope of his collarbones, the ridged muscles of his stomach that flexed with each breath — he was built like something carved from marble and brought to breathing life.
And below, between the strong set of his thighs, he was simply… magnificent.
Heavy, proud, part of him as natural and unashamed as the rest, the sight of him making heat bloom across my cheeks despite everything we'd already shared.
'I've seen him before. I've touched him, tasted him.'
But my chest thudded with a rhythm that felt entirely new.
The bond pulling between us had deepened, changed, like a river that had carved itself a new course.
Even my own body felt different — hyper-aware, electric — as though every cell wanted him to claim me fully and we could burn our hearts in these moments I want to spend before entering Empire again.
"Enter the bath," I said, my voice steadier than I felt as I placed my palm flat against the damp heat of his chest.
His skin was fever-warm under my touch, his heartbeat strong enough to pulse against my palm like a second pulse.
His head dipped closer, silver eyes finding mine. "You're not going to enter with me?"
I hesitated, feeling the word 'no' hover on my lips like a butterfly that wouldn't quite land. Instead, my lips trembled, betraying me.
I looked away, jaw clenching with frustration at my own response, before forcing myself to meet his gaze again. "Close your eyes."
I didn't understand why I needed it — Whether it was because I felt stripped bare under that knowing gaze, or because carrying his child and remembering too many future moments made me acutely aware of how much he sacrificed in the background to protect me, I had suddenly, achingly realized how much he saw when he looked at me.
How much he knew.
He closed them without question, trust written in every line of his face as he stepped into the steaming water.
The muscles in his back and shoulders flexed as he lowered himself, settling back against the marble edge but still facing my direction, as if even blind he could sense exactly where I stood.
My pulse skipped and stumbled as I reached for the ties of my dress.
The silk ribbons slipped through my fingers like water, and the fabric whispered over my shoulders, down my arms, before pooling at my feet in a soft collapse of cream and gold.
The heat from the bath curled around my bare legs like phantom hands as I stepped forward, the marble smooth and warm under my feet.
The water embraced me as I lowered myself — slowly, deliberately — onto his lap.
Steam rose between us, wrapping us in our own private world as his strong thighs framed my hips.
The press of his thing was unmistakable beneath the surface, a living heat that seemed to pulse against me with each heartbeat.
My own heart hammered so hard I was certain he could feel it echoing through the water.
I took his hand — large, warm, calloused from sword work and battle — and guided it to rest over my stomach, just wanting his hand to feel.
His touch gentled instantly, fingers spreading with reverent care over what was ours.
But not just what was ours; I wanted him to have something that was only mine and his to have.
My other hand lifted his other palm, pressing it to the curve of my breast, feeling the slight weight of it fill his grasp as he held it, loosening the burden as he held my heart again in his hand.
'!'
His fingers closed around me with sudden, sure possession. The squeeze, firm and claiming, dragged a gasp from my throat that echoed in the steam-thick air — "Ahh...!"
His eyes stayed closed, but I caught the smallest curve at the corner of his mouth, satisfaction written in the barely-there smile as he turned to look at why he tightened his grip.
'What is he thinking...' I just wanted to know what was going inside his mind because mine was becoming strange.
"Why are you so soft, Luna?" This cruel man said, uncaring of my heartbeat crashing against my ribs, as he leaned slowly, his hand holding my head before pressing those cursed lips I can't reject against me while murmured.
"Luna…" His voice suddenly changed as if it had become low, his mouth parting as he held my upper lip between his teeth, every syllable heavy with restrained hunger as I saw his different side when he declared.
"I'm going to ruin you tonight—leave marks, traces, proof that you're mine. Tell me… will you forgive me?"
'Gulp... where is my kind wolf?—!'
"Ahh—!"