Todos los capítulos de The Lycan King’s Broken Mate: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

Aedan Dawn crept slowly into the camp, like a quiet guest who wished not to disturb the sleepers. I felt the golden light seeping through the canvas of the tents, brushing over the earth, the dew-drenched grass, the flanks of the resting horses. The world that only hours ago had been filled with growls and the stench of blood now seemed to breathe again. The embers of the fire glowed faintly, like the heart’s final, slow beats, and the cool air filled with fresh scents: damp earth, bark, the fading trace of smoke, and something new, something promising. I had already been awake, though my eyes were still closed. I listened to the camp. The quiet movements of my Lycans, taking down tents with practiced ease. The whisper of ropes, the faint clatter of harness on the packhorses. I gave no order. None was needed. They had done this a thousand times; their motions were as natural as breathing. But the small stir beside me was something new. Something foreign, and yet, utterly at home. Ny

Nyra The silence of the room was so deep that only my breathing filled it, and the faint, trembling sobs that slipped from me against my will. The blanket I had clutched as though it were my only shield against the world slid from my shoulders and fell to the floor. It landed soundlessly, weightless, as if surrendering with me. All strength left me. Only Aedan’s arms remained, holding me, and I clung to him as though the storms of the world would sweep me away if he let go. I trembled. Not a little, but like a bird torn by a storm, not knowing where to find refuge. And Aedan did not move. He did not rush. He did not try to save me with words, did not hold me too tightly, did not demand. He only held me. I felt the solidity of his arms as they wrapped around me, and inside that shelter my sobs slowly, painfully slowly, began to quiet. When at last the shuddering of my body eased, I felt him shift back just slightly, only enough to see my face. My hair clung to my cheeks, tears had ca

Aedan For a long time I sat motionless at the edge of the bed. I listened to Nyra’s uneven, but slowly calming breaths, how her chest rose and fell in steadier rhythm after the convulsions of her nightmares finally loosened their hold. Her face lay half-turned on the pillow, blonde strands clinging to her brow, and for the first time her features softened. She shifted a little beneath the blanket, but the violent tremors were gone. The room sank into the deep darkness before dawn. The fire had burned low, embers glowing like tiny stars within the hearth. Shadows danced softly across the walls, as if the world itself guarded her fragile peace. My shoulders ached, my back protested the long stillness, but I ignored it. I had no right to rest while she lay so defenseless. Only when her dreams remained calm for a long while did I dare breathe more deeply. And then I noticed something. When I drew back even slightly, her body grew restless, her brow furrowed, her breathing turned uneve

Nyra The first rays of sunlight slipped softly through the tall, arched windows, painting golden patches on the white stone walls of the palace, on the silken curtains, and on the bed where I rested. The blankets wrapped me in warmth, and as I slowly drifted awake, I felt something I was not used to: I was not alone. My body was surrounded by a safe heat, and even through the cover I sensed Aedan’s presence. He was beside me, so close that my heart skipped a beat. Tilting my head, I looked at him. He sat with his back against the pillows, as though he had not slept fully all night, only half-dozing to keep watch over me. His eyes were half-closed, but the moment I stirred, they opened at once, and his golden gaze locked on mine. My heart jolted. I knew he had stayed on purpose. This was not chance, not whim. He had kept watch over me. The thought was terrifying and beautiful all at once, and I didn’t know what to do with the storm of feelings inside me. I looked at him with gratitu

Nyra The palace corridors were filled with muted sounds, the after-echoes of the day’s bustle fading now into distant doors closing, faint fragments of conversation, the soft echo of footsteps on marble floors. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, casting the gardens beyond the windows in a warm glow of orange-gold. I walked in silence at Aedan’s side. In my chest still lingered the weight of the council chamber, the stares, the questions, the words that tore open my past yet somehow freed me. I was tired. Not just in body. This was a different kind of weariness, the kind one feels when, after a long, dark tunnel, air is finally reached. Not easy. Not liberating. Simply exhausting, but real. Aedan said nothing. He didn’t need to. His footsteps echoed evenly, and his movements were no longer as measured. As he opened my chamber door and gently held it for me, it felt less like ceremony and more like habit. There was nothing grand in it. And perhaps that was why it felt so