Soraya's POV
I never imagined it would happen this way.
One moment, I was trembling under the weight of everything Ethan had endured—the humiliation at the dining hall, the storms he carried in silence, the pain no one else seemed to see. The next, I was drowning in him, giving away every defense I had clung to for so long.
And gods help me, I hadn't resisted. I couldn't.
The heat of him, the raw hunger in his touch, the way his lips claimed mine like I was the only air he could breathe—it shattered me. Maybe it was pity, maybe it was something far deeper I dared not name, but when I gave myself to him, when I let him tear down the walls I had built, it didn't feel like surrender.
It felt inevitable.
My body knew before my mind would admit it. The ache, the release, the belonging—yes, it was my first time, but nothing about it felt clumsy or wrong. It felt written into me, as though he had always been meant to be here, pressed against my skin, tangled into my soul.
And my wolf… oh, my wolf.
She stirred, sluggish but alive, pressing against the edges of my consciousness. Her voice came faint but insistent, thrumming through every nerve in my body. Mate. Ours. Chosen. She purred in the rhythm of his movements, exalted in the bond she felt, even half-asleep inside me.
I gasped beneath him, nails raking his back, not only from the intensity of it but from the terrifying, beautiful certainty flooding through me. It wasn't just me who wanted Ethan—it was her too. My wolf recognized him.
And that truth was the most dangerous of all.
When it ended, when our bodies collapsed into the silence of the night, I lay draped across his chest, listening to his heartbeat thunder against my cheek. My fingers, still trembling, traced the ridges of muscle beneath his skin until they brushed over the edge of ink.
A wolf, its mouth bared in a silent snarl, spread across his chest. I had noticed it during the blur of passion, but now, in the quiet aftermath, my hand lingered on it. Not as a question—just as a touch. A small caress against the image that seemed to guard him, claim him.
Ethan didn't flinch. He only held me tighter.
I should have been at peace, blissful in his arms, but instead a thousand thoughts tore through me.
Maybe I had already fallen for him. Maybe I had been falling since the moment those storm-grey eyes first met mine in that mall.
But love shouldn't feel this heavy.
His arm curled around me, protective, yet his mind had already drifted somewhere far away. I felt it in the stillness of his hand against my back, in the way his eyes avoided mine. He was building walls again. Hiding. Retreating into shadows I couldn't reach.
I wanted to shake him, to demand he let me in. But who was I to ask, when I was hiding too? When the secret of what I truly was pressed sharp and silent between us? He thought I was human. Fragile. Ordinary. And part of me hated myself for letting him believe it.
My lips parted, the words rising and dying on my tongue. Ethan, I'm not who you think I am. I'm not human. My wolf is there, waiting. I'm yours in ways you don't even understand.
But fear sealed my mouth. What if the truth only drove him away?
The silence stretched taut. Then his voice broke through, low and rough, scraped raw from somewhere deep inside him.
"Be my wife, Soraya."
The words froze me.
I looked up, certain I'd misheard, but his hand tightened on me. His storm-grey gaze locked on mine, burning, unshaken.
"Stand with me as my wife before my father and my clan. In three days."
The air caught in my lungs. My wolf howled in triumph, pressing hard against my chest, demanding I answer, demanding I claim him as he had claimed me.
But my heart stumbled.
Why me? Why now?
Why would Ethan bind himself to me when his clan already scorned him? Why would he choose me, when choosing me would only cut his wounds deeper?
I searched his face for the truth and found only shadows. His jaw was set, his eyes fierce, but beneath the fire I saw something else. Something desperate. Something I couldn't name.
And then, as if summoned by the storm of my thoughts, a ghost stirred between us.
Lila.
The name hissed through my memory, sharp as poison. I didn't know her, not fully, but I had seen enough in Ethan's eyes to know she had mattered. To know she had broken him.
Was I only filling the hollow she left behind?
Or worse—was I just a weapon in whatever war raged inside him?
The silence thickened. My heart screamed to ask, to demand the truth about her, about him, about us. But the words tangled in my throat. Because to ask him would mean I would have to answer too. I would have to confess what I had hidden.
So I stayed quiet, cheek pressed to his chest, my fingers still resting over the wolf inked into his skin. His heartbeat pounded beneath it, steady, grounding, even as my soul trembled with uncertainty.
"Wife." The word lingered in the dark, heavier than any vow.
My wolf pressed harder. Say yes. Claim him.
But my human heart whispered doubt, whispered caution, whispered truths unspoken.
Maybe this was the moment to tell him everything. Maybe it was the only chance I'd ever have.
Or maybe it was already too late.
I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent, letting the steady drum of his heart lull me into fragile calm. For now, in this bed, in his arms, it was enough. Safe. Almost right.
But I knew it wouldn't last.
Because truth always claws its way to the surface.
And when it did—when everything we had buried came to light—nothing would ever be the same again.