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Chapter 11: Secrets

Author: Mel B✨
last update publish date: 2026-10-25 22:45:55

Lycan recovered slowly.

After that, he became more cautious about how much blood he allowed me to take. He would hold out his wrist instead of his neck now, keep his eyes open the whole time, pull away a few seconds sooner than he used to.

I noticed.

I pretended not to.

It felt easier that way — for both of us, I think. Neither of us wanted to talk about the fever, or what it had cost him, or what I'd said to an empty room while he lay unconscious.

One evening, we sat beneath the largest rose b
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  • The Wolf Beneath The Roses    Chapter 12: Don't Leave

    The question came unexpectedly.“If you ever leave this place…”I looked at Lycan.He was staring at the garden through the window.Rain had stopped hours ago, leaving droplets clinging to the roses. The clouds had begun to clear, allowing the faint light of the moon to fall across the garden.I waited for him to continue.He didn't.Instead, his fingers tightened slightly around mine.“Will you leave me behind?”I didn't answer immediately.Because I didn't know.For years, I had dreamed of leaving Rose Manor.Every morning I woke up, I imagined the gates opening.I imagined walking beyond them.I imagined returning to the kingdom, reclaiming what had been stolen from me, confronting Silas, and taking back the life that should have been mine.Freedom had been the only thing keeping me going.But now...The thought of leaving felt different.Because leaving Rose Manor meant leaving Lycan.And I didn't know if I was willing to do that.“I don't know.”The words left my mouth quietly.L

  • The Wolf Beneath The Roses    Chapter 11: Secrets

    Lycan recovered slowly.After that, he became more cautious about how much blood he allowed me to take. He would hold out his wrist instead of his neck now, keep his eyes open the whole time, pull away a few seconds sooner than he used to.I noticed.I pretended not to.It felt easier that way — for both of us, I think. Neither of us wanted to talk about the fever, or what it had cost him, or what I'd said to an empty room while he lay unconscious.One evening, we sat beneath the largest rose bush, the last of the daylight fading through the petals above us."Where are you from?"He looked at me."Why?""Because I asked."He smiled faintly."That's not an answer.""Neither is 'why.'"He huffed something close to a laugh and leaned back against the stone behind him."I had a family."I waited."My mother was a healer."His voice softened in a way I hadn't heard before."She used to grow herbs. Different kinds, depending on the season. She always knew which one cured what — fevers, woun

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