Sasha's eyes darkened, his fingers skimming over the curve of her waist, as if to remind himself that she was real, that she was here. He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing over the small mark he had made on her shoulder, not quite a claim, but something intimate, something unmistakably his.
Aylin swallowed hard, warmth still pulsing beneath her skin from the night before. But alongside it came the creeping weight of shame. The haze of desire had lifted, and with it, reality pressed down on her. She had given in to something she had vowed never to give up on—something raw and beyond her control.
Her hand remained still against his chest. She turned away and pressed her lips together. Sasha noticed the shift right away. He tightened his arm around her, refusing to let her retreat into herself.
"Aylin," he murmured, his voice low and inviting.
She hesitated. "I don't regret it," she admitted at last, her fingers curling slightly against his skin. "Not you, not this. But—"
"But?" His tone remained gentle, but there was something sharp beneath it, something wary.
She bit the inside of her cheeks. "I was raised to show restraint. To hold myself back. This…" She swallowed hard. "This wasn't restraint."
Sasha shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. He studied her in silence, his gaze heavy. Then, he exhaled through his nose. "You think giving in to what you want is something to be ashamed of?"
Aylin flinched at his bluntness, her shoulders tensing. "It wasn't just what I wanted. It was—" She stopped as his fingers caught her chin, tilting her face back toward him.
"It was us," he finished, voice steady. "And you know it. Everything is telling us what we are to each other."
She looked past him at the rising sun. Two nights. She had been away from her former home for only two nights, and already she was with another man—one who was harder to tame yet easier to understand.
Her lips parted, but the words stuck in her throat. She forced herself to meet his gaze, even as her chest tightened. "We don't know each other," she said finally, barely above a whisper. "We're strangers. I don't even know what to do now. My plans... they're over."
Sasha's expression remained unreadable for a moment before he shook his head. "Nothing is over. You just got more help."
His fingers trailed lower, his touch light as he traced the bruises along her back. A shadow crossed his face. "Tell me what happened."
Aylin hesitated before sighing. "I was running away."
"From your mate?" His tone was careful, his eyes never leaving hers.
She swallowed hard before nodding. "I was rejected."
Sasha's fingers stilled. His jaw tightened slightly. "Silas rejected you?" There was doubt in his voice, and his fingers twitched as if he were holding himself back. After a moment, he exhaled sharply, then reached for the heavy curtains, drawing them closed. The room darkened, enclosing them in the quiet intimacy of a lingering night.
"It is fine. There is no need to force yourself." He paused, "Sleep." His voice was softer now, lacking its usual sharpness. Instead of stepping away, he remained by her side, settling back onto the bed. His warmth was steady, unwavering, a silent reassurance that he wasn't leaving.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel entirely alone.
Sasha lingered beside her, reluctant to break the quiet moment. But as much as he wished to stay, duty pressed at the edges of his mind. With slow, measured breath, he forced himself to move, carefully pulling away from her warmth.
"Rest," he murmured, brushing his knuckles lightly against her cheek before slipping out of bed. His muscles ached from the tension of the past days, he rolled his shoulders before heading toward the adjoining chamber.
The water in the basin was cold against his skin as he washed, the chill grounding him. He needed to regain his composure before meeting his men. Wrapping a fresh tunic around his frame, he pulled the bell cord, summoning an attendant.
"Have my men meet me in the study," he instructed, his voice calm but firm. He would have to ensure the safety of his territory, but Aylin remained in his thoughts. Whether she accepted it or not, she was his.
And he needed answers.
Silas. The name didn't sit right with him. He had known the man—respected him, even. But something about Aylin's rejection, about the bruises marring her skin, didn't add up. Silas wasn't the type to throw away a mate, not without reason. Unless there was something else at play.
As the attendant bowed and hurried away, Sasha clenched his jaw. He would get to the bottom of this. No matter what it took. He had to know who hunted Aylin.
When he entered the study, the air was thick with tension. His most trusted men were already gathered, their faces grim, their postures rigid. The moment he stepped inside, the room erupted.
"You fought them alone?" Nikolai's voice was sharp; his anger barely restrained. "You let your curse take over and nearly died!"
"We swore an oath to fight by your side, not stand by while you tear yourself apart," another growled.
Sasha exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his damp hair. "It was necessary. The vampires were closing in. I didn't have time to wait."
"That is not an excuse," Nikolai shot back. "You nearly lost control. Again. Do you even understand what would have happened if we had arrived too late?"
Sasha's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing. "I know exactly what would have happened." He let the words settle before his tone softened, though his authority remained unwavering. "But I'm still here. And now, I need answers."
His men exchanged looks, their fury not yet abated, but they understood his meaning. They had more pressing matters.
"Silas rejected Aylin," Sasha continued, his voice low. "It doesn't make sense. I knew him. He wouldn't have done it without reason. I need to know why."