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The Wolf That Watches
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2025-08-21 18:41:51The healer's chamber was silent save for the slight crackle of the fire.
Elaria wiped the perspiration from her brow while sitting on the side of the bed, her fingers quivering a little. She didn't want to acknowledge how exhausted she was from the healing.
As he lay motionless beneath the furs, Draven Kaelith's enormous chest began to rise and fall with slow, steady breaths. Her touch had caused his wounds to close, the violent gashes turning into faint scars.
He looked almost… peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Elaria frowned, her gaze lingering on his face despite herself. He appeared younger without his typical frown and the ruthless gleam she had witnessed on battlegrounds. Softer.
She nearly forgot who he was because of it.
Almost.
She shifted back a little and murmured under her breath, "Don't you dare look harmless." "You're still the idiot who set half of my pack on fire.”
As though it didn't agree, her wolf shifted uneasily inside her chest.
Traitor.
She sighed in frustration and forced herself up, turning to wipe her hands of the blood at the basin.
She froze when she heard movement behind her.
Her heart thumping, she turned slowly.
Draven’s golden eyes were open.
And they were locked on her.
Immediately, the air changed, growing heavier with his stare. He observed her with his head cocked slightly, his face impassive, but his wolf was obviously awake—alert, calculating.
Elaria forced herself to remain calm and swallowed deeply. "You ought to be sleeping," she stated calmly.
Instead of responding immediately, he continued to observe her, his eyes moving over her face, her hair, and her throat for an excessive amount of time.
Then he spoke, his voice low, rough from sleep but steady. “You stayed.”
She didn't want to accept the flame that the simple words caused in her chest.
With her arms crossed, she stated bluntly, "I didn't do it for you." "I took this action because allowing you to perish here would lead to more issues for my pack.”
There was a slight curvature of his lips, almost like a smile. “Liar.”
Elaria stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“You care.” He seemed to look right through her walls, and his golden gaze softened a little. "In any other way, you wouldn't have cured me.”
She couldn't stop it before heat shot up her cheeks. "I am a healer." That's what I do. Don’t mistake duty for—”
With his voice firmer now and his wolf rumbling beneath the word like a drumbeat, he interjected, "Mate.”
Her heart pounded wildly.
Although there was a slight wobble in her voice, she angrily said, "I told you to stop saying that.”
His golden eyes were piercing and unblinking as his head tipped once again. "What is true cannot be stopped.”
Elaria started to complain, but he moved—slowly, purposefully—sitting against the pillows before she could counter.
The furs fell away from his chest, exposing the slight scars left by her mending and the firm lines of muscle.
Heat crawled up her neck as she immediately looked aside.
Draven noticed.
As he threw his legs over the side of the bed, his lips curled slightly and his eyes flickered with delight. "When you don't want to, you keep turning your head away.”
Her pulse betrayed her, but she shot back immediately, "I'm not looking at you." "I am ensuring that you do not reopen your wounds.”
Evidently not convinced, he hummed softly in his throat.
Then he stood in a single fluid motion.
Elaria took a reflexive step back, but he didn't approach her just yet. He tested his repaired muscles as he stretched gently and moved like a predator.
"Better," he said plainly, shrugging his shoulders while maintaining eye contact with her.
She harshly remarked, "You should still rest," ignoring the way her pulse pounded at how much he resembled his typical commanding self.
His voice lowered, and his eyes softened a little. He repeated, "You stayed," as though that were the most important thing.
Elaria tensed up and crossed her arms more tightly. “I stayed because I had to, Kaelith. Don't make assumptions.”
His golden eyes glinted dimly in the firelight as he cocked his head. “You can keep pretending. But your wolf won’t.”
That caused her chest to constrict uncomfortably, and he moved—quickly this time—before she could react.
Before she could retreat further, he surrounded her with his heat and closed the gap between them in two long strides.
She threatened to shove him away with a raised hand, but he grabbed her wrist tenderly, his hold powerful but not painful.
Even if they were gentler today, his golden eyes still pierced hers. "You are free to refuse me anything. But every time you heal me, every time you look at me like that…” His gaze dipped to her lips briefly before locking back on her eyes. “Your wolf is answering mine.”
Elaria's heart thumped so painfully. She added, her voice suddenly lower, even trembling, "You don't know what you're talking about.”
His lips curled slightly, and it wasn't mean for the first time. “You can lie to yourself, healer. But I’ll wait. Your wolf won’t stay quiet forever.”
When his thumb touched the inside of her wrist, it was a quick, almost gentle touch that sent a shockwave through her entire body, causing her breath to catch.
She muttered, "Don't touch me," but it sounded softer than she intended.
His golden eyes glinted as he tilted his head. "You're trembling.”
She yanked her hand free and yelled, "Because you're a monster.”
His jaw tightened slightly, and his face hardened for the first time. However, he didn't approach her once more.
Rather, he took a hesitant step back and stared at her face for a while more before turning back to face the bed.
He finally said, "I'll rest," in a calmer tone. "But, Elaria, don't lie to me again.”
She blinked in surprise that he had so casually used her name.
Without saying anything more, he reclined on the bed and closed his eyes, but his breathing was still too precise and steady.
He was awake.
Before turning to face the door, Elaria remained motionless for a considerable amount of time, her heart still racing.
His voice broke the silence before her hand had even touched the latch.
With a low, nearly growling voice, he urged, "Don't leave.”
She turned slightly, looking directly into his half-lidded golden eyes.
She tried to sound irritated rather than agitated when she said, "You need to sleep.”
"I will," he said, his eyes hard and gloomy. “But only if you stay.”
Elaria’s breath hitched despite herself.
And before she could decide whether to walk out or stay, his wolf’s voice rumbled from the bed, soft but certain—
“Stay, mate.”
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The silence after the shattering was absolute—so complete that it felt like a hand closing over Elaria’s mouth, over her heartbeat, over the pulse of the world.She hung suspended in the dark spiral Kael and Draven tore open, the two of them collapsing inward as the tether between them snapped like wet sinew. Their light scattered. The Gate-body imploded. The web of memory split into a thousand burning strands, each whipping through the void like a dying nerve.But none of that was what struck her.What struck her was the voice—the one that had called her by a name she did not remember, a name she felt under her skin like an old scar.“Finally,” it had said. Soft. The softness of something ancient enough to forget cruelty because it remembers eternity.“Finally, you hear me.”And now she stood—no, floated—inside the aftershock of that word.The void around her was no longer a void. It pulsed.With her.With who she had been.Her arms trembled as she lifted them, the skin flickering li
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 154
She couldn’t breathe.Not because breath was impossible here — breath was irrelevant — but because the truth pressing against her ribs had stolen every illusion of air her mind still clung to.You were never born, the voice had said.You were remembered.The words lived in her bones now, vibrating like a tuning fork struck by a divine hand. Elaria drifted in a space that was not space at all — a vast chamber of light where nothing cast a shadow because everything was the shadow. The walls, if there were walls, moved with the slow, tidal pulse of memory reformatting itself.She was suspended, body half-formed, half-light, threaded together by strands of blue and silver that pulsed like veins. The filaments seemed to be stitching her into a shape she no longer recognized. Her skin shimmered with shifting fragments of the selves she had worn across lifetimes — girl, daughter, healer, anchor, weapon. Each one flickered across her body like pages of a book being flipped too fast to read.A
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There was no falling.There was no rising.There was only being undone.Elaria tried to breathe, but breath had never belonged to this place. The light that swallowed her in chapter 148 had not been illumination; it was remembrance, a force older than the first dawn, tearing open a seam inside her and pouring into it like molten memory.The voice that claimed her — you were mine before you were born — followed her through the rupture, curling around her like smoke with weight, shadow with purpose.It whispered again now.“Let me show you.”The world around her peeled apart.Not in a violent tear, but like petals unfolding backward — colors stripped from colors, shapes dissolving into their ancestors, time buckling into a soft, circular ache.She reached for something solid.There was nothing.She reached for her own name.There was less than nothing.The voice pressed close, behind her ear, inside her skull, beneath her ribs:“You were a tear in the Veil before you were a daughter of
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Darkness had texture.Not the absence of light, not the blindness of shadow—this was something tactile, alive, aware. It slid over Elaria’s skin like a second pulse, a second breath, tasting her the way fire tastes oxygen.And then—That voice.That impossible, steady voice:“Mine.”The word hit her like a hand closing around the back of her neck.Elaria gasped.Or the world gasped with her—she couldn’t tell. The dark rippled outward in rings, each one sending a tremor through the void until every inch of it was vibrating with recognition.No shape.No face.But the voice pressed closer.“Elaria.”It spoke her name like the world had waited centuries just to say it properly.She tried to move—her limbs answered, but wrong, like they were remembering themselves in reverse. The darkness split around her, threads of it pulling away in jagged lines, revealing the faintest suggestion of form beneath her feet.A floor.A path.A web of fractured light stitched across an ocean of void.Her h
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The plunge ended not with impact, but with unmaking.Light peeled Elaria apart strand by trembling strand, as though she were a tapestry the world finally had permission to unravel. Her breath vanished first, pulled into a glittering thread. Then her heartbeat. Then her name.Only her awareness remained—thin as a whisper in a storm that had forgotten what silence meant.Then the light spat her out.Not onto ground. Not into air.But into something living.Something that breathed through light. Something whose pulse was a rhythm older than the first Gate. Something that should not have been able to hold a mortal body—Except she wasn’t quite mortal anymore.Elaria gasped.The world around her reacted instantly.A wave of pale gold rippled beneath her, a surface that shimmered like water but burned like memory. Figures—half-formed, half-remembered—moved within the depths: faces she knew, faces she had lost, faces she had created in the marrow of her grief.Kael.Draven.Kael again, but
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