Chapter Title: Gentle Morning
After the turmoil, all that was left was the quiet ache between them.
Amber stirred beneath the soft cotton sheets, her limbs tangled with warmth that wasn't just the duvet. Her body was sore, a dull throb reminding her of the night before—not just the battle they had survived, but what had followed. For a moment, she wasn't sure if it had been real, or just another vivid dream her heart had conjured up from longing.
But when her lashes fluttered open, and she drew in the deep scent of pinewood and smoke clinging faintly to the air, she knew the truth.
A calm morning greeted her—quiet, unhurried, as if the world had paused just long enough to let her breathe. The usual clamor of birds outside seemed hushed, and the faint glow of golden dawn seeped gently past the curtains, softening the edges of the room. It felt like a fragile gift after all they had endured—a silence that wrapped itself around them, asking nothing, promising only peace.
Amber turned slightly, her cheek brushing against the pillow, and her gaze landed on him.
Zachary.
He was already awake.
His arm lay heavy and protective across her waist, anchoring her in place, his bare chest rising and falling with a rhythm that steadied her own uneven breaths. The battle scars still faintly lined his torso, faint reminders of last night's chaos, yet already they were fading, healing faster than they should have. His skin was warm beneath the sheet, alive, whole. But it wasn't his strength that held her in place this time.
It was his eyes.
Though Zach often watched her with that guarded, unreadable look—like a man forever building walls around himself—today, there was something different. Something softer. As if a wall within him had finally crumbled, leaving behind a quiet vulnerability that belonged only to her.
Amber's chest tightened.
Without a word, she shifted closer, letting herself be drawn into him as though he were the gravity at her center. Her body nestled against his as if it belonged nowhere else. The steady heat of him wrapped around her, grounding her, and in that stillness, something sacred stirred—an intimacy that no touch or kiss could quite explain.
Their eyes spoke where words failed, silent and searching, sharing all the things neither of them had ever dared to voice aloud.
"Good morning," Amber whispered, her voice carrying the kind of fragility that only came after baring one's soul. She reached up, brushing a lock of dark hair from his brow with a tender slowness.
He didn't smile right away, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward—small, restrained, yet more genuine than any smile she had ever seen from him.
"It is," he murmured, voice roughened by the morning. His hand at her waist flexed gently, as though reluctant to let her go. "Because you're here."
Her heart fluttered wildly, a traitorous rhythm that refused to settle. She tucked herself closer into his side, breathing in the familiar scent of pine, smoke, and something darker—something that was only Zach, something that made her feel both safe and restless all at once.
For a while, neither of them spoke. There was no rush, no noise, just the silence of a room that seemed to hold its breath for them. Wrapped in sheets and each other, they lingered in the aftermath of something that had changed them both, though neither quite had the courage to name it yet.
"Are you alright?" Amber asked softly, her fingers tracing the faint ridges of his ribs, careful as though touching something fragile. "Your wound…"
His breath deepened, his chest rising against her palm. "It's healing," he said, his voice low and husky with honesty. "Faster than I expected."
She tilted her chin up, meeting his gaze, searching.
And then, in the quiet, he added, "It's because of you."
Amber stilled. "Me?"
Zach's lips curved faintly, though not in jest. His hand rose, brushing his knuckles across her cheek with a gentleness that belied the strength behind them.
"My wolf… he feels at peace when you're near. Even last night, when I was bleeding out, when the world was spinning away from me—I should have lost myself. But the moment you touched me… everything calmed."
Her throat constricted, words catching before they could form.
"I thought you were going to die," she whispered, her voice breaking. The image of him collapsing in the woods, crimson staining his body, replayed in her mind. "Out there, when I saw you fall… something inside me shattered. I've never known fear like that."
His hand tightened on her, grounding her. His voice was gentle, yet steady. "I saw it. The way you fought. The way you changed. You awakened your wolf, Amber. That wasn't chance. That was power. Yours."
Amber's breath shook as she exhaled, her fingers curling weakly against his chest. The truth of his words terrified her almost as much as it freed her.
"I was so afraid," she admitted, her eyes dropping.
Zach shifted, turning onto his side to face her fully. His hand cupped her jaw, steadying her as though she might break if he let go. His gray eyes locked with hers, stormy yet unyielding.
"I'm here," he said, simple but absolute. "We both are. And last night… what happened between us…"
He faltered, not because the words weren't there, but because none of them could carry the weight of what had truly passed between them. What they had shared had been more than passion, more than instinct—it had been a union, raw and unshaken. Two souls, two wolves, bound not by force but by something deeper, older, inevitable.
Amber leaned into his touch, her forehead resting against his. Her eyes slipped shut. "It felt like I finally understood who I am," she whispered. "Like every part of me that was lost… found home in you."
Zach's breath stilled, his body tensing slightly, as though the words struck too deep for him to withstand. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the truth of it sink into him, into the place he had long thought hollow.
"You're not alone anymore, Amber."
The words unraveled her, leaving her trembling. Not just his promise—but his presence, his constancy. Zach, who had fought for her, who had bled for her. Who could have walked away at any moment but never did.
Now, he was hers.
"I've never felt something this intense before," she confessed, her voice trembling between wonder and fear. "It terrifies me."
He pulled her closer, so close their breaths mingled, their foreheads still pressed together. "Good," he whispered, his voice roughened with conviction. "Because it means it's real."
A laugh, soft and shaky, slipped past her lips, breaking the heaviness between them. "Always so sure of yourself, aren't you?"
Zach's smirk was faint but warm. "Only when it comes to you."
And then, as if moved by instinct, he took her hand in his and guided it to his chest—pressing her palm flat over his heartbeat. The steady thrum beneath her fingers matched the wild, uneven beat of her own. For a fleeting second, it was as though their pulses aligned, two rhythms merging into one.
Amber gasped softly at the sensation, her wolf stirring inside her, recognizing something wordless and eternal. And in the deepest part of her, she felt it—the echo of a bond older than either of them, waiting to be named.
In her mind's eye, she caught a glimpse of it: two wolves standing side by side beneath the full moon, their shadows long and unbroken, as if the heavens themselves had woven them together.
They lay quietly again, hearts beating in rhythm. The morning light spilled across them, painting their forms in gold.
Outside, the world waited. The council, the rogues, Liza's fury, Jaguar's shadow—all of it remained. The war was far from over, and they both knew it.
But here, in this fleeting moment, none of it mattered.
For once, they allowed themselves to forget. To breathe. To exist not as warriors, not as wolves, but as two souls who had finally found each other.
Because for the first time in a long time, they had something worth fighting for—not just survival, not just duty, but love.
And that, Amber thought as her palm remained pressed to Zach's heart, was enough.