Sasha was right where she had left him.
But he had changed.
The battle-worn figure she had last seen was no longer there. He sat by the fire, freshly bathed, his long black hair neatly tamed and tied behind his back with a golden ornament that gleamed in the firelight. He was dressed in a crisp white, long-sleeved shirt that fit snugly over his broad shoulders and tucked neatly into a pair of long black pants. The change in appearance was striking—he appeared to be a man capable of commanding an empire rather than a rogue warlord.
Aylin hesitated in the doorway, refusing to acknowledge how her heart tightened at the sight of him.
Sasha, for his part, did not respond immediately. He swirled a glass of wine in his hand, gazing at the fire with a thoughtful expression. After a long pause, he finally turned his gaze to her, his eyes dark and unreadable as they flickered over her form.
Aylin crossed her arms. "You should be resting."
Sasha huffed a quiet laugh before pushing off the chair with deliberate ease. "I could say the same thing to you."
She ignored how his voice sent shivers down her spine. "You are hurt."
"I have had worse."
Her eyes narrowed. "That doesn't mean you should be standing."
Sasha smirked, but without the usual arrogance. "Are you worried about me, little wolf?"
Aylin parted her lips, but no words came out. Was she?
She really wanted to say no. To remind him that she was only here because circumstances had forced it. But she was not sure she could lie convincingly enough to deceive herself.
Instead, she exhaled sharply and approached him. "Sit," she ordered.
Sasha raised an eyebrow, but did not argue. With an almost amused tilt of his head, he moved to an armchair near the fire and lowered himself into it with a quiet grunt.
Aylin hesitated before approaching the table and reaching for the carafe. She poured a small amount of wine into the glass and gave it to him.
"Drink," she muttered.
He accepted it without a word, his fingers brushing against hers. A spark of warmth licked up her arm at the contact, but she ignored it and drew back quickly.
Sasha studied her for a moment before raising the glass to his lips and taking a slow sip.
Aylin shifted her weight as she watched him. He still appeared exhausted, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to subside slightly.
She shouldn't care.
She shouldn't.
But, as the fire crackled between them and the fortress hummed quietly beyond these walls, Aylin fell into silence.
And for the first time in years, it didn't feel suffocating.
Sasha took another slow sip of wine, his dark eyes fixed on Aylin with quiet intensity. The flames crackled behind him, casting long shadows over his sharp features. His presence dominated the room, commanding even in its silence.
Aylin stood stiffly a few steps away, arms crossed as if to create a barrier between them. She had changed into the soft dress provided by his servants, her damp hair falling over her shoulders in waves. The firelight highlighted the golden undertones in her brown strands, making them glow.
She was exhausted but remained defiant.
Sasha smirked.
He wished she was closer.
No, he needed her close.
The beast within him stirred, restless, and the thin thread of control he wielded over it weakened with each moment she maintained her distance. He had bathed, washed away the blood and sweat, and dressed in something fresh and clean, but none of it had relieved the gnawing pain in his chest.
Only her.
Only his mate.
His fingers lightly tapped the rim of his glass before setting it down on the table beside him. "Come here, Aylin."
Her jaw tightened. "I'm fine where I am."
His smirk widened, amusement flashing through his eyes. "I didn't ask if you were fine. I told you to come here."
Aylin exhaled sharply, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. "I just bathed. I'd rather not smell like you again."
Sasha chuckled, the low sound echoing around the room like a promise. "You already do, little wolf." His voice softened, but it retained its commanding edge. "Come."
She shook her head. "You need to rest."
"So do you."
He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, watching her like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. His hair's golden ornament gleamed as he tilted his head, its loose strands framing his face.
Aylin swallowed, resisting the way her body responded to him. The room felt suddenly smaller.
"Why are you like this?" she muttered.
Sasha's smirk faded slightly, something more primal flashing behind his eyes. "Because I want you near me."
The words sent a sharp pulse of heat through her, and she despised it.
Aylin shook her head again and took a half-step back.
Sasha noticed it. And he did not like it; he could feel his patience slipping away.
His expression darkened, and before she could respond, he pushed himself up from his chair with slow, deliberate movements.
He didn't stumble. Didn't wince.
His strength, even when injured, was undeniable.
Aylin's heartbeat stuttered as he prowled towards her, the air between them thickening with tension.
"You are fighting something that has already been decided," Sasha murmured, his voice deep and firm.
Aylin tried to stand her ground, but when he closed the last gap between them, she took an instinctive step back, only to have her spine hit the wall.
Sasha encircled her, one hand resting beside her head, his body mere inches from hers.
His scent, clean but still him, enveloped her, and she clenched her fists to keep from reacting.
Her wolf purred in approval.
She wanted to scream at her to shut up.
Sasha's gaze moved down her face, lingering on her lips before returning to her eyes. "Tell me you do not feel it," he said softly.
Aylin took a breath in.
She felt it.
The pull. The heat. The way her body reacted to his presence without her consent.
However, she refused to acknowledge it.
"I feel tired," she stated flatly.
Sasha hummed, obviously unimpressed by her deflection. "Let me help you."
Before she could protest, his arms wrapped around her and drew her into his embrace.
She let out a startled gasp as she realized she was trapped against his chest.
His heartbeat was steady and strong. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, and before she could push him away, something strange happened: her own tight muscles relaxed.
Her exhaustion finally caught up with her, pressing down like a heavy weight, and she barely had the energy to resist any longer.
Sasha exhaled slowly as his grip tightened around her.
Her scent was fresh and clean, with lingering traces of battle. It calmed something wild within him, the beast that had been clawing at his innermost being from his first shift.
This was what he needed.
Her.
Aylin tensed, but he simply buried his face in the back of her neck, inhaling deeply.
"You'll be the death of me," she muttered, her voice weaker than she would have liked.
Sasha chuckled, his lips grazing her skin as he murmured, "Not if I can help it."
She hated how easy it was to stay still.
How easy it was to close her eyes and let herself be held.
But she was so tired.
And right now, wrapped in his arms, she was finally warm.