The Scent of the Flower One Part 2

 

I moved to the window, pressing my palm against the cold glass as I gazed out at the gardens below. Even in the gray afternoon light, the roses bloomed with impossible vitality—Lydia's legacy, preserved by magic and obsession in equal measure.

"She's already here," I said quietly. "In the scent on this flower, in the dreams that wake me before dawn. She's been calling to me for weeks, Lucas. I just didn't understand until now."

"Dreams can lie," Lucas said, but his voice lacked conviction. He'd seen enough of my prophetic dreams over the years to know they carried weight beyond simple imagination.

"Not these." I turned back to face him, letting him see the certainty in my expression. "These dreams feel like... recognition. Like I'm remembering something that hasn't happened yet."

Lucas was quiet for a long moment, studying my face with the careful attention of someone trying to gauge just how far gone I really was. "And if she refuses to come?"

"She won't." The words came out with more confidence than I actually felt. "Her father understood the consequences of breaking our bargain. He'll make sure she honors it."

"By force, if necessary?" Lucas's tone carried a note of disapproval that made my wolf bristle.

"By love," I corrected. "He'll tell her the family's survival depends on her compliance. And from what I've observed of human nature, daughters rarely refuse to sacrifice themselves for those they love."

It was a cruel truth, but truth nonetheless. I'd seen it played out countless times over the centuries—women accepting unwanted marriages, impossible burdens, literal chains, all for the sake of protecting fathers and brothers and children who might never fully appreciate the scope of their sacrifice.

"And once she's here?" Lucas pressed. "What then? You can't force love, Kieran. You can compel presence, demand obedience, even inspire fear. But love—true love, the kind that breaks curses—has to be freely given."

Freely given. The phrase echoed through my mind like a challenge. How did one inspire free love when the relationship began with coercion? How did one build trust when the foundation was debt and desperation?

"I'll court her," I said, the words feeling strange on my tongue. "Properly. With patience and respect and whatever gentleness I can still manage."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "When was the last time you spent more than an hour in human form during daylight? When did you last hold a conversation that didn't involve orders or interrogation?"

The questions hit closer to home than I cared to admit. The wolf had been ascendant for so long that my human social skills had atrophied through disuse. I could command, certainly. I could intimidate, seduce, manipulate. But courting—the delicate dance of mutual interest and growing affection—was territory I hadn't navigated in decades.

"I'll relearn," I said with more confidence than I felt.

"And if she runs? If she takes one look at you—at this place, at what you really are—and decides death is preferable to staying?"

The possibility struck me like ice water. I'd been so focused on getting her here, on fulfilling the first part of the prophecy, that I hadn't fully considered what would happen if she found me monstrous beyond redemption.

"She won't run," I said, though my voice lacked the certainty it had carried moments before.

"How can you be so sure?"

I lifted the rose again, breathing in the intoxicating mix of flower and woman that made my pulse quicken and my wolf whine with longing. "Because she touched this flower. Her scent is woven into its very essence, and her scent calls to something in me that's deeper than the curse, older than the magic that binds me."

Mine, whispered the wolf in my chest. Mate. Pack. Home.

"That could be wishful thinking," Lucas warned.

"Or it could be recognition." I set the flower down with the care one would reserve for precious relics. "Either way, she's coming here. The bargain is struck, the debt is real, and Charles Montgomery understands exactly what will happen if he fails to honor our agreement."

Lucas was quiet for a moment, his expression cycling through resignation, concern, and what might have been pity. "You're going to prepare chambers for her."

"The blue suite in the east wing," I confirmed. "Comfortable but secure. Close enough that I can ensure her safety, far enough that she won't feel constantly watched."

"And if this ends badly? If she becomes another casualty of your curse?"

The question hung between us like a blade. I'd spent twenty-seven years avoiding exactly this scenario—avoiding the possibility that my need for companionship might destroy someone innocent. But the alternative was an eternity of isolation, an endless cycle of full moons and empty chambers and dreams that never quite satisfied the hunger gnawing at my soul.

"Then I'll bear that responsibility along with all the others," I said quietly. "But Lucas... I can't continue as I have been. The loneliness is eating me alive from the inside. If there's even a chance that she might be the key to breaking this curse..."

"You'll risk her life for the possibility of your freedom."

Yes. The admission tasted like poison, but it was honest in a way that my earlier rationalizations hadn't been.