Aurora's pov
I felt it.
My grip shifted again—still forceful, but steady… grounding.
"You could have gotten hurt," he said, voice dropping into something darker and quieter. "You ran into the forest alone. At night. When the woods are crawling with things far worse than me."
Worse than him?
My mind reeled.
I felt the subtle tremor beneath his skin—not fear, but fury. Not at me.
At the idea of losing me before he even had the chance to—
No.
I shoved the thought away.
"Put me down," I whispered shakily.
"No," he said without hesitation. "Not until you stop trying to flee."
His hand at my wrist slid down to intertwine his fingers with mine—possessive, unbreakable.
I didn't understand why my heart stuttered at the contact.
He lowered his head again, inhaling deeply at the curve of my neck.
"You smell like fear," he murmured. "And I hate it."
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Please," I whispered, "just let me go."
He exhaled slowly, as if wrestling with instincts sharp enough to tear the world apart.
"I can't," he said.
"It would kill me to lose you."
His voice softened—but the iron underlying it remained.
"And I will not let you vanish into the dark."
The forest was silent.
Only his heartbeat pulsed against my back.
Slow. Heavy.
Steady as fate.
And I realized with a sinking, terrifying certainty—
He wasn't letting me go.
Not now.
Not ever.
_____________________________________________________
His grip didn't loosen not fully but he shifted me enough so he could turn me around.
I didn't fight this time.
I couldn't.
My legs felt like water. My lungs burned. My chest ached with a pressure that had been building ever since I stepped into the clearing… ever since I saw him.
When he set me down on my feet, I swayed. Roman immediately steadied me with his hand around my waist, fingers firm and warm and impossibly gentle compared to how he had just caught me.
But the moment my eyes met his, everything inside me broke.
His height. His presence. His strength.
His golden gaze that pierced straight through me.
It was too much.
The tears hit before I could stop them.
Hot. Silent at first. Then harder.
Hard enough that a choked sob tore up my throat.
Roman froze.
Completely.
His hand on my waist stiffened. His other hand, hovering near my cheek as if contemplating to touch me, fell uselessly to his side.
I covered my face with my hands, shoulders shaking as the sobs ripped through me.
"I—I'm so scared," I sobbed, the words tumbling out uncontrollably. "You're— you're a monster. You're the Beast. You're—"
My voice shattered.
Roman inhaled sharply, like my tears physically struck him.
"little one," he said, but he didn't move toward me. "Don't cry."
Another sob violently shook me.
He took half a step forward.
Stopped.
He lowered his hand.
Tried again.
Failed again.
He looked… lost.
The infamous Beast, the Lycan King feared by humans, stood there stiff and helpless, as if my tears were a weapon he'd never been trained to face.
His voice dropped to a low rumble—uncertain, rough, painfully honest.
"I do not know… what to do," he admitted quietly.
I froze.
I hadn't expected that.
He swallowed hard, jaw tightening as though admitting weakness cost him something.
"You're crying," he said, almost accusing the world rather than me. "You're crying because of me, and I—" He exhaled sharply. "I do not know how to make it stop."
I wiped my face, but the tears kept coming. "You scare me," I sobbed. "Are you were going to kill me? Everyone says you're—"
"A monster," he finished.
He closed his eyes. For a brief second, he looked like he'd been stabbed.
"Little one," he murmured, "I have killed. I have destroyed. I have ruled through fear when I had no other choice." His eyes opened and met mine with raw intensity. "But I will never harm you."
His voice trembled.
Barely. But enough.
My breath caught.
He hated this—my fear. My tears.
He didn't know how to fix it… but he desperately wanted to.
Roman stepped closer, slowly this time, like approaching a wild creature that might bolt.
When I didn't pull away, he lifted one hand and—hesitated.
His fingers hovered near my cheek.
His brows pulled together, frustration flickering across his face.
A king who commanded entire armies—paralyzed by the idea of touching a crying girl.
Finally, he brushed a tear from my cheek.
His thumb was rough, his touch shockingly tender.
"little one," he whispered, voice cracking, "please don't cry."
Something painful and unfamiliar echoed in his tone—fear.
Not of danger.
Of me pulling further away.
My voice trembled. "I don't know what you want from me…"
He leaned closer, forehead nearly touching mine, breath warm on my lips.
"Everything," he said softly.
"But not like this."
His thumb wiped another tear.
"If I knew how to ease your fear," he murmured, "I would do it without hesitation. But I… I do not know how to comfort you. I have never…" He swallowed. "I have never been gentle before."
I stared at him, stunned.
He looked away, jaw tight with something like shame.
"But I will try," he said, voice rough with sincerity. "If you let me."
My tears slowed.
His shoulders eased—just slightly—as if that small change in me gave him breath again.
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.
But I didn't run.
And for Roman, that was everything.