Chapter 4

Delilah's Pov

After I finished taking my bath, I wrapped the towel tighter around my body and stepped out into the bedroom, water dripping off my skin like quiet whispers against the floor. The room was still dim, the curtains filtering in only a little sunlight, but it was enough.

I took my time getting dressed, I wore simple clothes that hugged my body just enough. My hair was still damp as I combed through it, letting the strands fall naturally. My fingers lingered on the comb longer than necessary, my mind slipping back to what had happened earlier.

Those eyes. I knew those eyes. I would never not know them, not in a million lifetimes. It was Malric. I was sure of it.

And now, for the first time since I’d arrived in this strange pack, he was awake.

I smoothed my hands over my clothes one last time and stepped out of the room, walking through the stone corridors that still felt too grand and too cold. My feet were light, but my heart was loud.

As I turned the corner, I saw one of the pack maids and called out softly, “Excuse me, do you know where Alpha Malric is?”

The girl gave a polite nod. “At the dining hall, my lady. He’s having breakfast.”

I hummed a quick thanks and made my way there.

And there he was.

Sitting at the head of the long, intimidating table like a damn king. His presence alone sent a shiver crawling up my spine—but I didn’t let it show.

I walked in, head held high, my heels barely making a sound. I chose a seat two places away from him, close enough to be heard, far enough to keep the illusion of casual.

He didn’t acknowledge me at first. Just continued eating like I didn’t exist.

So I leaned back and said softly, “I see you’re getting better.”

He turned his head slowly, eyes piercing, voice cold. “And who are you?”

A smile curled on my lips, unfazed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m Delilah Elaris, a healer. The one who pulled you out of whatever hell you were in. And now here you are, eating without even a thank you.”

I tilted my head toward the plate in front of him. “Though I’d advise against that particular dish. Your body’s still recovering. Eat that”—I pointed to a different bowl—“it’ll help your strength return faster.”

He scoffed, eyes narrowing slightly. “And who are you to tell me what to eat?”

My smile didn’t falter. “At this point, I have to tell you what to do. Because if you don’t listen, you’ll end up right back in that bed, half-dead and miserable. Unless that’s what you want?”

I stood slowly, took a bite from a piece of bread on the table just enough to make a statement—and looked him straight in the eyes. “Finish eating. I’ll be waiting for you in your room. I need to check you.”

And with that, I turned around, not giving him the satisfaction of a backward glance.

His eyes followed me. I could feel it.

My plan was working.

I walked back to his room, calm, composed, and slid into the chair beside his massive bed. Crossing one leg over the other, I leaned back, arms folded… and waited.

****

I waited in silence, my eyes drifting toward the heavy grand door, half-expecting it to stay shut forever. But then, with a slow, agonizing creak, it opened.

Malric stepped out.

My breath caught. The way he filled the space with his presence, tall and commanding, like a god carved from obsidian and midnight. Every step he took echoed authority.

He walked past me without a word, settling onto the edge of the bed. Then, he just… stared. Not blinking. Not speaking. Just watching me like I was some riddle he didn’t want to solve.

"What do you want?" he asked finally, his voice deep, gravelly, like thunder rumbling in a bottle. "And what are you doing here?"

I stood, brushing imaginary dust from my robe, even though I knew his gaze hadn’t left my body since I entered. "As I said before, I came to check how you’re improving. If you’ll let me."

He said nothing.

So, I took that as a yes.

Crossing the room, I reached for his wrist, my fingers curling gently around it. His skin was warm… stronger than before. I held his pulse, counted in silence, then lifted his chin to examine his eyes.

Still pale.

I leaned in again to double-check his eyes, but this time, I got closer.

My chest brushed against his face.

He stiffened instantly. “What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was taut, dangerous.

I smiled, tilting my head. “The exact thing you’re thinking I’m doing.” I stepped back slightly, teasing, taunting. “You saw me.”

His brow furrowed. “Saw you where?”

I let the silence throb for a moment.

“Having a bath.”

It was like striking a match.

In one swift movement, he was on his feet, gripping me by the neck and pinning me to the wall. His fingers were rough, tight but not crushing. Just enough to remind me who he was.

“How dare you accuse me of that?” he growled.

But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even blink.

I looked him right in the eye, my voice sweet as poison. “Acting angry about what you actually did? That’s cute.”

A long second passed between us.

Then he let go abruptly, as if touching me burned.

I fixed my hair like nothing had happened, my smirk lingering as I walked past him.

“See you soon, Malric,” I murmured. “Try not to miss me.”