Xavier's Point of View
The warmth of Anabella's embrace was a foreign country, and I was a willing exile. For long moments, we simply held each other, the silence in the room a testament to the walls crumbling between us. Her scent, wildflowers and that indefinable oceanic spark, was a balm to the constant, simmering rage that had been my companion for decades. I could stay here forever without even realizing how long.
"I should let you rest," she murmured into my shoulder, her voice soft but clear.
The thought of her leaving this room, of this fragile connection breaking, was suddenly unbearable. "Stay," I said, the word coming out rougher than I intended. It was a plea, not a command. I wasn't exactly sure what I want but I was so sure I just wanted to be right here with her.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her green eyes searching mine. A slow, beautiful smile spread across her face. "Okay."
We didn't speak much after that. The simplicity of sharing a space, of her moving around the room, putting away a few of her things that Daniel had brought over, felt more intimate than any battle won or territory claimed. I watched her from the bed, propped up on my elbows, content to just observe. She was grace and quiet strength, a calming presence that settled the restless energy of my wolf.
Eventually, she slipped into the bathroom to change. I gave her my back, a gesture of respect that felt strangely natural. When she emerged in soft sleepwear, her face scrubbed clean and her hair in a loose braid, my breath caught. She was even more beautiful like this, unguarded and real. Her beauty would never cease to amaze me.
She climbed into the other side of the large bed, keeping a respectful distance but turning to face me. "Goodnight, Xavier."
"Goodnight, Bella," I replied, the nickname feeling right on my tongue.
I expected to lie awake for hours, my mind racing. But with her steady breathing as a lullaby, sleep claimed me faster and more deeply than it had in years. There were no nightmares of past battles or fears of the future. There was only peace. Something I had forgotten what it felt like.
I woke to the gentle pressure of fingers tracing the scars on my back. Dawn's faint light filtered through the curtains. I remained still, my eyes closed, memorizing the feel of her touch. It wasn't pity in her caress; it was curiosity, acceptance. She was mapping my history, learning me without a single word spoken.
"I know you're awake," she whispered.
I rolled over to face her. "Couldn't resist, could you?" I teased, my voice gravelly with sleep.
She didn't smile. Her expression was serious, her eyes soft. "There are so many. You've carried so much."
I caught her hand, lacing my fingers with hers. "They're just marks. The ones that matter are on the inside." It was the most vulnerable thing I'd ever admitted to anyone.
She squeezed my hand. "Maybe you don't have to carry those alone anymore."
The offer hung in the air between us, vast and terrifying. Before I could formulate a response, to accept or to retreat, a frantic mindlink from Daniel shattered the moment.
Alpha. We have a problem at the northern border. A small group of rogues, but they're… organized. They're not running. It's like they're probing our defenses.
The Alpha's mask snapped back into place. The peace was over.
"Duty calls," I said, my voice hardening as I sat up. The warmth of the bed was already a memory.
Anabella sat up too, her concern evident. "What is it?"
"Rogues. Nothing for you to worry about." I stood and headed for the shower, the brief paradise of the night giving way to the familiar harshness of the day. The timing was too convenient. The attack felt coordinated, deliberate. Someone was testing us, testing me. And they'd chosen the exact moment I'd finally let my guard down.