Chapter 17: Strong & Dangerous
Eiden:
I waited until her breathing finally steadied before allowing myself to move.
Rosalie slept curled slightly beneath the blanket. Her face was still flushed faintly from the heat but it was nowhere near as alarmingly warm as before. The medicine had worked quickly enough to suppress the worst of it, though I knew this was only the beginning. Suppressors were temporary solutions. Eventually, her body would fully awaken to the mate bond now that it had finally recognized both of us.
And judging by how violently her heat had struck tonight, the bond was anything but ordinary.
I exhaled quietly before pulling the blanket higher over her shoulder.
She had walked all the way upstairs barefoot in that condition. The thought unsettled me. Silently, I stood from the bed and crossed into the adjoining bathroom. The cold marble floor grounded me somewhat as I grabbed a clean hand towel and filled a bowl with cool water before returning to the bedroom.
Rosalie hadn’t moved.
Soft lamplight from the hallway spilled faintly through the open door, illuminating her sleeping figure just enough for me to notice how exhausted she truly looked now that the heat had calmed.
Fragile.
That was the dangerous thing about her appearance. People would look at Rosalie and see softness first. They would see her pretty deep brown eyes, long black hair, delicate features, and a quiet girl too gentle for the brutal world she was born into. Most would assume weakness. But they would be wrong.
A weaker person would have shattered completely after what she experienced. But Rosalie had not.
Was she broken? Perhaps. Wounded beyond measure? Certainly. But shattered people did not drag themselves out of rivers after falling off cliffs. They did not survive betrayal, attempted murder, and abandonment while still managing to look at strangers with kindness instead of hatred.
No.
There was strength in her. Dangerous strength. Even if she did not realize it yet.
I dipped the towel into the cool water before wringing it out carefully and settling back beside her. Then I gently wiped the damp cloth across her forehead and cheeks.
A faint sigh escaped her sleeping form immediately, and the sound tightened something unpleasantly unfamiliar in my chest.
Slowly, I continued downward, cooling the flushed skin of her throat, collarbone, and arms while the suppressor medicine worked through her system. Her skin remained warmer than normal beneath my fingers, though thankfully no longer burning.
Good.
The last thing I wanted was for her first heat awakening to spiral completely out of control. Especially tonight. Especially with him here.
Once I finished, I returned to the bathroom briefly to rinse the towel before kneeling near the edge of the bed.
Her feet were freezing unlike the rest of her burning body.
Carefully, I wiped away the dust and faint dirt clinging to her feet from walking through the house barefoot before drying them thoroughly and tucking them beneath the blanket.
Only after setting the bowl aside did I finally allow myself to properly look at her again. She looked peaceful while sleeping. Too peaceful. As though none of the horrors haunting her dreams existed outside this room.
But I knew better.
I had seen the fear in her eyes during the past week. Seen how violently she woke from nightmares. Seen the heartbreak she kept trying so desperately to bury beneath politeness and quiet smiles.
And I also knew exactly who caused that pain.
My gaze lingered on her face longer than it should have. A strand of hair had fallen across her cheek sometime during her restless sleep. Without thinking, I reached toward it. But my fingers stopped only a breath away from touching her skin.
The realization of what I was doing hit immediately afterward.
This was dangerous. Not the bond itself, but her. It was dangerous in the way my control kept slipping around her.
I should have stood up immediately. Should have walked away. Instead, I brushed the strand of hair gently behind her ear anyway.
Soft.
The word surfaced instantly in my mind. Her skin was so soft. My jaw tightened faintly.
No. I could not stay here any longer tonight. The bond was unstable enough already.
Silently, I stood and walked toward the door. But before leaving, I crossed to the far side of the room and switched on one of the smaller lamps near the glass wall, allowing warm dim light to fill the bedroom gently.
Rosalie hated darkness now. Or more specifically, she feared waking up alone inside it. I had noticed that much after the second nightmare.
The soft lighting would help when she would wake up and find herself in an unfamiliar room. Satisfied, I finally left the room behind.
The villa was quiet as I made my way downstairs. Distant thunder rolled through the mountains surrounding the property. Dark clouds had covered the sky entirely tonight, drowning the world outside in shadows.
The moment I stepped into the living room, I immediately saw him.
Zaiden stood near the massive glass wall overlooking the front garden, his tall figure partially silhouetted against the darkness outside. And in his hand was a cigarette.
I paused slightly at the sight.
Zaiden rarely smoked. In fact, I could probably count on one hand the number of times I had seen him do it during the years I had known him. He only smoked when something disturbed him deeply enough to crack through that terrifying self-control of his. Which meant tonight had shaken him far more than he would openly admit.
I walked toward one of the couches and sat down quietly without speaking. There was no need. Zaiden and I had long passed the stage where silence felt uncomfortable.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke. Thunder echoed faintly outside while smoke curled lazily through the dim room. Then finally, Zaiden extinguished the cigarette and turned around.
His gray eyes locked onto mine instantly, sharp, unreadable, and dangerous enough to make even powerful Alphas lower their gazes instinctively.
He crossed the room calmly before settling into the couch opposite mine. Then he simply watched me in silence. And after nearly a full minute, he finally spoke. "The woman upstairs." His voice was low and even. "She’s the one you have been taking care of these past days."
It wasn’t a question. Still, I nodded once. The answer was obvious enough.
Silence stretched briefly again before Zaiden leaned back slightly against the couch. Then he said the words both of us had been trying to process since upstairs.
"She’s our mate."
The air in the room shifted heavily. I remained silent. Zaiden’s gaze narrowed faintly as he added, "You already knew."
Again, it wasn’t an accusation. Just fact. Because yes. I had known. From the very first night. The moment I pulled her unconscious body from the riverbank and felt the bond slam into me with enough force to nearly stop my heart, I had known.
And yet, I told no one. Not even him.
Zaiden studied me for another long second before exhaling slowly. Then finally, he spoke the exact question that had been haunting me ever since finding Rosalie half-dead beside that river.
"How could this happen?" His gray eyes darkened slightly as they found mine. "How could she possibly be our fated mate?"
