Chapter 6

Vesphyr's pov

I watched her sleep, chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of someone who’d been wrung out completely.

The sheets were twisted around her hips, indigo hair spilling across the pillow like dark water. Marks dotted her skin.

The faint red blooms from my teeth, my grip, places where I’d lost track of gentle. We’d gone at it until neither of us could think straight. Three rounds? Four?

I stopped counting after the second knot locked us together, her body gripping me so hard it felt like she was trying to pull my soul out through my cock. Exhaustion had finally won. She was out cold.

I dragged my shirt over my head, the fabric scraping against skin still too sensitive. The room reeked of us—sweat, sex, that faint floral scent that clung to her like it belonged there.

My knot had eased maybe ten minutes ago, but something else lingered in my chest.

Storm? I reached inward.

The beast stirred fast. Usually he made me wait, let me stew. Not tonight.

“About time you remembered I exist,” he rumbled, voice like distant thunder trapped in my skull. “You’ve been too busy fucking your little lover to notice anything else.”

I snorted under my breath as I buckled my belt, careful not to let the leather creak. “She’s not my lover. She’s a paid night. That’s it.”

“Paid night,” he echoed, mocking. “Right. That’s why your heart’s hammering like a war drum and you can’t stop staring at her like she hung the moon.”

I glanced back at her—peaceful, bruised, beautiful in a way that made my throat tighten. I shoved the feeling down. “It was good sex. Intense. That’s all.”

“Good sex doesn’t leave a mark on your soul, Zephyr. You bit her. You knotted her. Multiple times. And something woke up inside you. Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it.”

I fastened the last button on my shirt, jaw tight. “I felt heat and I needed release. Nothing more.”

“Liar.” Storm’s tone sharpened, edged with something raw.

“Her wolf brushed against me tonight. Just a flicker during that last knot when everything went white-hot. She’s strong. Stubborn. Feisty as hell. I reached for her, tried to link, and she slammed a wall up so fast it stung.”

I paused, one boot half-laced. “You… reached for her wolf?”

A low, frustrated growl rolled through my mind.

“Don’t act surprised. It’s been centuries since I bothered with anyone. Wars. Blood. Losses. I stayed quiet, let you rule, let you rot in your own solitude. But tonight? That wolf of hers called to me. She wasn't scared. Like she could stand toe-to-toe with me and not flinch.”

I sank onto the edge of the mattress, elbows on my knees, staring at the floorboards. My Lycan hadn’t shown interest in another wolf in over two hundred years. Not once.

He’d gone quiet after the eclipse wars, content to lend me power and nothing else. No longing. No curiosity. And now he was… what? Pining?

“Why her?” I asked quietly. “She’s just a girl from a brothel. Sharp tongue, soft body. Nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” Storm laughed, short, bitter.

“You’re blind. That tongue is armor. Underneath it’s fire. Pure, lunar fire. Her wolf feels the same about me. But she’s wary. Hurt, maybe. She won’t let me close. Not yet.”

I rubbed a hand over my face. The faint hum in my chest pulsed again, like an echo I couldn’t shake. Whatever this was, it wasn’t nothing. But it also wasn’t everything.

And I wasn’t stupid enough to think one night changed centuries of solitude into something real.

“She’s not coming with us,” I said firmly. “This was a transaction. I paid. We fucked. I leave. End of story.”

Storm went quiet for a minute. Then, softer, “You really believe that?”

I didn’t answer.

Instead I reached down, fingers brushing the delicate silver anklet circling her ankle. A tiny crescent moon charm dangled from it, catching the lantern light. Simple. Pretty. Hers.

I unclasped it without thinking. The metal was warm from her skin. I closed my fist around it, the charm pressing into my palm like a secret I wasn’t ready to admit I wanted to keep.

I stood, pocketed it, gave her one last look of her sleeping, unaware, already slipping back into the life I was walking away from.

“We’re not coming back,” I told him.

Storm didn’t argue.

But the silence between us felt heavier than any words he could have thrown.