Chapter 7 (Seraphina's POV)

The instant his nose touched my palm, my eyes went wide, and I couldn't help but smile.

"So warm."

His breath fanned across my hand. That massive head lowered obediently, sleek fur brushing along my arm—ticklish.

I couldn't resist giving him a gentle stroke.

He let out a whimper.

Low and deep, rumbling up from the depths of his chest, traveling through my palm all the way to my heart.

Like a wolf who'd walked alone in the dark for far too long, finally finding what he'd been searching for.

He nuzzled into my palm, his rough tongue lapping across the inside of my wrist.

A shiver ran through my whole body—not from disgust. The sensation was just so strange. Warm, wet, slightly barbed, but also... gentle.

He kept going, nose trailing up along the inside of my arm, finally stopping at the side of my neck.

My heart was hammering so hard it felt like it would leap out of my throat.

But Ember went quiet.

Like a fire drawing all its sparks inward, tucked deep in my chest, letting out a soft, contented purr.

She was being soothed too.

His nose pressed against the artery on the side of my neck and stayed there for a long time. Hot breath puffed against my skin, one exhale after another.

Then he bumped my shoulder with his head. Gentle, but he was so massive I still stumbled a step—and he immediately caught me with his body.

The next second, I was on the ground.

More precisely, I was sitting in the embrace of a silver wolf.

He'd circled me the way a wolf circles a pup—his enormous silver body stretched out on the floor, head resting on his front paws, ice-blue eyes half-closed, watching me.

His tail curled around me completely.

Silver. Fluffy. An absurd amount of fur, like a living blanket. I sank into it, drowned in his scent.

His fur was softer than silk. Softer than anything I'd imagined. I couldn't help reaching out to touch it—once, then again.

He didn't move. Just kept up that low, steady rumble deep in his throat.

Moonlight poured through the hallway window, silver-white light spreading across his back, every strand of fur seeming to glow.

My fingertips were glowing too.

A faint golden shimmer, seeping through from beneath my skin, as if moonlight were flowing through my veins.

I didn't know what it was, but whenever he came into contact with that glow, he'd go still—his breathing would slow, his eyes would drift nearly shut, and his tail would pull me just a little tighter.

I leaned against his body, my back pressed to his warm, rising and falling chest.

His heartbeat was deep and steady, like the rhythm of some ancient drum.

All those warriors. All those chains. All the full-moon frenzy—

In front of his mate, none of it mattered.

I didn't know when I fell asleep.

When I woke, I was in my own bed.

The covers were tucked in tight, all four corners pressed under the mattress, like someone had tried to wrap me into a cocoon. Sunlight streamed through the window—no silver mesh—so bright it was hard to open my eyes.

My neck was a little itchy.

I reached up and touched it.

The warmth was still there, as if something rough had licked over it again and again. The skin was slightly flushed, but there were no tooth marks, no broken skin.

He hadn't marked me.

Not even a temporary mark.

I lay in bed, fingers pressed against that patch of skin on my neck, and stared at nothing for a long time.

"He held back," Ember said, her voice very soft. "Even out of control, he was still protecting your right to choose."

I buried my face in the covers.

Something lodged in my throat—sour and swollen and aching.

Images from my past life surged forward again.

A man who'd been willing to die for me, on a night when he'd been so far gone he'd torn through iron chains, still hadn't forced a single thing on me.

I bit my lip until it went white, refusing to make a sound.

Ember didn't speak. She just lay quietly curled at the bottom of my heart, keeping me company.

A long time passed.

I released my lip, drew a breath, and pushed the covers off to get out of bed.

Downstairs in the dining room, everything was normal. Breakfast was laid out on the table, the portions larger than before—an extra plate of honey pancakes and a cup of hot cocoa.

Margaret stood in the corner of the dining room directing a maid on the table settings. When I walked in, she turned.

The way she looked at me had changed.

Not friendly—Margaret would probably never be friendly toward me in this lifetime. But the fake courtesy from before was gone, replaced by something I couldn't quite define.

Wariness.

Like she'd reassessed my threat level.

"Good morning, Miss Wren." Her tone had dialed back two notches from the previous days.

"Good morning." I sat down and picked up my fork. "Where's Ivy?"

Margaret's hand paused.

"She's feeling unwell today," she said, not looking at me. "She called in sick."

I didn't ask again.

Halfway through breakfast, Beta Kieran came in from outside, suit crisp, tablet in hand.

"The Alpha is handling some urgent matters today," he told me, his tone more formal than usual. "He needs time to recover after the full moon. If you need anything, just let me know directly."

"Is he okay?"

"The Alpha recovers quickly." Standard template response.

I nodded and didn't push further.

But something was off.

A subtle atmosphere pervaded the entire estate—no one mentioned what had happened the night before. Maids bowed their heads when they saw me. Warriors kept their eyes straight ahead. Everyone was functioning normally, but it was too deliberate.

Like they'd all collectively agreed to forget it.

I sat in the first-floor garden for a while. The sun was warm. Ember yawned lazily inside me.

My phone rang.

Dad.

I stared at the name on the screen, hesitated for two seconds, and answered.

"Sera." His voice was heavy, like he hadn't fully woken up. "Stop this nonsense."

I didn't respond.

"Margot's very worried about you," he said. "She didn't sleep at all last night."

"Oh, please," I said. "She doesn't care about me."

Two seconds of silence on the other end.

Then his voice suddenly rose—the kind of angry pitch I rarely heard from him.

"Seraphina Wren!" He was practically shouting. "What kind of attitude is that?! Margot has nothing but good intentions. If you don't appreciate it, fine, but you're going to slander her on top of it?!"

I gripped the phone tighter.

"And Grace!" he continued, getting louder. "She went all the way there to check on you out of concern, and you had her thrown out! You really think you're somebody now, don't you? Latched onto a high branch and now you don't even recognize your own family?!"

I listened.

Every single word.

I could even picture his face as he said all this—brow furrowed, face red, finger jabbing the air, like a nice guy pushed past his limit.

But I knew who had fed him those lines.

"She told you to make this call, didn't she?" I asked.

"Who?"

"Grace. Or Margot. Or both of them together."

He went quiet.

"Put her on the phone," I said. "I'll talk to her."

"...If you don't get your ass back home, don't bother coming back at all!"

He yelled that last line and hung up.

The busy signal beeped in my ear.

I lowered the phone from my ear and stared at the screen.

Ember unleashed a string of profanity inside me—calling him spineless, calling him pathetic, cursing him for not even knowing how to protect his own daughter.

I didn't bother arguing.

Because she was right.

That evening, Margaret came knocking.

Her expression was more complicated than this morning. Like she was looking at me, yet also at something she couldn't quite comprehend.

"Miss Wren. The Alpha would like you in the study."

I got to my feet, heart skipping a beat.

I walked quickly through the corridor, paused for one second outside the study door. Deep breath. Pushed it open.

He sat behind the desk.

The desk was new—dark solid wood, bigger than the last one. The wreckage from two nights ago had been completely cleared away. New carpet, bookshelves righted, books placed back one by one.

He wore a black shirt, top two buttons undone as always. One hand propped against his forehead, the other flipping through a document.

He heard me and looked up.

Gray-blue eyes looked very dark under the lamplight. His expression gave nothing away.

"Sit," he said.

I sat in the chair across from him.

He closed the document and leaned back into his chair. Was quiet for a moment.

"About last night," he said. "I owe you an explanation."

I sat up straighter.

Then he said something I hadn't expected at all.