To heal a Rogue

Chapter 23: Scent

BONNIE

The longer I sat there, the stronger his scent became, or maybe I was just too tired to resist it anymore. Each time he leaned in to press the cloth to my temple, that heavy honeyed heat washed over me, muddling my thoughts until I felt almost intoxicated. My body ached to give in, but my mind fought back, desperate not to surrender.

Then he had the nerve to flash that easy, careless smile at me, as if tending my wounds in a room full of people who wanted me dead was just another way to pass the time.

It turned my stomach, the way too much sugar does when you swallow it all at once—sweetness curdling into nausea.

I craved his rejection more than I craved the healing of my wound, more than I craved air itself. Staying bound to him meant chaining myself to everything I’d spent so many years fleeing. He was Lily of the Valley—his pack, his people, the same earth that had devoured my mother and forced me to construct a counterfeit life, brick by brick, just to outlast the ruins of the real one.

I had made my uneasy peace with that loss, shaping my whole existence so I’d never have to look it in the eye again.

So why would the goddess twist my fate like this? I’d never been devout, never bowed at a shrine or murmured a prayer to Selene, because what had she ever given me except the system that killed my mother? What right did she have to reach into my life now and tie me to a mate from the very bloodline I’d spent years dodging?

Lysander finished with the bandage, pressing it flat against my temple and sealing the edge with careful fingers. "There we go," he said, like he’d just finished a minor chore.

"Now what?" I said.

"Perhaps we should find somewhere else to talk."

"This place is fine."

"You said you didn’t feel safe." His eyes flicked toward the healers still not-quite-staring from a few cots away. "I’d rather have this particular conversation somewhere without ears."

I glanced around. He was right. Every healer nearby had suddenly discovered an urgent task, each one conveniently close enough to catch every word we said.

"Fine," I said.

On the way out, he asked if I was hungry, and I almost laughed in his face. "Can you please just get to the point and say what you actually mean?"

He guided me into a lounge hidden off the main corridor and closed the door behind us. The silence that settled was thick, suddenly weighty now that there was no audience to hide behind.

"I have something to say too," I told him, "but you can go first."

He nodded, slow and deliberate, his posture shifting as if he were bracing himself for impact before he spoke.

"By evening," he said, "Alphas and Lunas from several packs will be arriving to grieve my uncle. I’ve already pushed for your release, because I know you had nothing to do with what happened to him." He paused. "But the Elder Circle wants a fall guy. They want it to be you."

A laugh clawed its way out of me, low and humorless. "I’m not surprised." I finally looked at him, really looked—at the fresh bandage, at the careful kindness he’d shown since dragging me out of that cell. "Is that why you’ve been so nice? Softening me up before you drop the axe?"

"No."

"Bullshit." The word cut sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t hold it back. "This is what you people do best. Smile, patch someone up, let them believe they’re safe, and then toss them aside the moment it suits your politics."

"Please stop saying that." Something in his voice cracked slightly, more raw than I expected. "You’re part of this pack too, whether you want to be or not."

"No, I’m not." My voice climbed, betraying me. "I don’t believe in any of this. Not the goddess, not the bond, not the pack that decided a terrified nine-year-old deserved to watch her mother bleed out on a cell floor because of her hair color or some miracle she did." My hands shook, and I despised the weakness. "Forget all that. I did. But I now have my life mapped out. A tiny house. Neighbors who wouldn’t know a designation if it bit them. No politics, no thrones, no packs deciding who lives and who gets thrown to the wolves for show." My throat closed around the words. "If I’d just kept my head down that night. If I’d just walked past instead of opening that damned door—"

I felt myself splintering, tears burning behind my eyes, hot and humiliating. He reached out, touching my arm with a gentleness that only made it worse.

It didn’t.

I yanked his hand away so quickly it almost wrenched my own wrist. "Do not touch me."

He didn’t flinch or recoil. He just watched me, his face set in an expression I couldn’t quite name—equal parts patience and unyielding resolve.

"I don’t intend to let that happen to you," he said quietly.

"Let what happen?"

"Whatever they’re planning." His jaw tightened. "I’ll make sure I’m announced as heir apparent in front of everyone first, before anything else gets decided. And the moment they try to bring your punishment up in front of the visiting court, I’ll call them out publicly. In front of every Alpha and Luna in that room."

I stared at him.

"Why would you even consider that?" My voice rose, out of my control. "Do you realize what you’re risking? You’d be standing before every pack leader here, tearing down your own Elder Circle before you’ve even claimed the throne."

"To save you," he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Of course."

"So your answer," I said, "is to throw me under an even brighter spotlight? More eyes, more danger? Do you even grasp what they would be planning for me, after that? Do you really believe making enemies of your own allies and crowners is smart?"

"I do not care. I simply intend to stop the punishment before it happens."

"Yeah! By starting a political war," I said, "on day one. Your first order of business as heir apparent is to publicly defy the Elder Circle, the same circle that just confirmed your claim to the throne this morning, I am sure." I shook my head, disbelief crawling up my spine. "That is insane. That is not protection, Alpha Lysander. Neither is it salvation."

"What would you have me do? They want to enact some old law! Brand you the royal house breeder in front of all of them?!"

I stared at him, something ugly and desperate rising in my chest.

"What is so bad about that?" I said. "It spares my life. It gives them exactly what they want. A fucking spectacle, sure, but at least I’m still breathing at the end of it." I let my eyes cut into his. "And you don’t intend to let me go anyway. So what’s actually the difference?"

He opened his mouth, but I wasn’t finished.

"Oh," I said, and something bitter climbed up my throat along with the word. "It’s humiliating because I’m your mate. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the whole reason for any of this. You believing me. You saving me. You deciding you’re bigger than your own Elder Circle, willing to burn political capital on day one just to protect me." I shook my head slowly. "It’s because I’m your mate. That’s the only reason any of this matters to you."

"Why is that so wrong?" he said.

"Because if I wasn’t," I said, "I’d already be dead. Prince Johann wanted me dead the second he walked into that library. You’d have let it happen. You wouldn’t have even blinked."

"No," he said, low and certain. "I wouldn’t have. I’m not that kind of man."

"You are."

"You sound so sure of that." Something flickered across his face, almost amused, almost hurt. "Like you actually know me."

"I do."

He didn’t argue that. He just let it sit there between us, and I hated that he didn’t argue it, because some small traitorous part of me knew what I’d said might not have even been true.

"So you’d be fine," he said instead, "being humiliated like that. In front of every visiting Alpha and Luna in this territory."

"No," I said. "But it spares my life. That’s more than I can say for most of the options I’ve had since I opened that door last night." I crossed my arms, needing something to hold onto that wasn’t him. "If you want to save me so badly, there’s an easier way. Let me go. Reject me. I can run. I can disappear the way I’ve disappeared before. I’m good at it. I’ve had many years of practice."

"Is there a reason," he said slowly, "you hate the bond so much?"

I didn’t answer right away.

"The goddess doesn’t hand these out at random," he continued, watching me carefully, like he was trying to read something buried under my skin. "It’s rare. Rarer than most people understand. She doesn’t waste it."

"Fuck the goddess! I have been in hell because of her! And she does not intend to stop anytime soon."