Page 31
The library's doors stood slightly ajar, warm golden light spilling into the hallway like an invitation. This room had always been his sanctuary—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes on everything from territorial law to pride histories, comfortable reading chairs positioned near tall windows that offered views of Solaryn's gardens during the day and the twin moons' ethereal glow at night.
He pushed through the doors and settled into his usual leather armchair near the windows, where Nova Aurora's twin moons cast everything in silver and shadow. The familiar weight of solitude pressed down on his shoulders, but tonight it felt different. Lonelier. Before Amara, he'd never minded being alone with his thoughts and responsibilities. Now the silence felt incomplete, as if part of him was missing.
Patience. She'll come to me when she's ready.
But patience had never been his strongest virtue. Suddenly, a soft sound from the hallway made him freeze—the whisper of bare feet against marble. Her scent reached him a heartbeat later, that intoxicating blend of lavender and pear that made his entire body come alive with awareness. His lion surged toward the surface, desperate to claim what belonged to them, but he forced himself to remain seated.
Let her come to you.
The library doors opened wider, and Amara appeared in the doorway like something from a dream. She'd changed into soft sleep clothes—loose-fitting shorts and a fitted tank top that emphasized the curves he'd memorized with his hands hours earlier. Her long dark hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and her green eyes held a vulnerability that made his chest tighten with the need to protect her from everything.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," she said softly. "I just couldn't sleep, and I saw the light on in here."
He gestured toward the matching leather armchair positioned near the fireplace, close enough for conversation but far enough away that she wouldn't feel trapped.
"You aren't disturbing me." His voice came out rougher than he'd intended, betraying how much her presence affected him. "Do you want to talk about anything or just sit here with me?"
She moved into the room with the graceful confidence that had first captivated him, but he could see her hands tremble slightly as she settled into the chair. For a long moment, she simply studied his face as if trying to find answers to dozens of questions swirling through her mind.
"Raxen, I'm sorry I ran from your room earlier after we..." She paused, color rising in her cheeks. "You know, connected on a deeper level. I was overwhelmed."
Connected on a deeper level.
The careful euphemism made him want to smile despite the seriousness of the conversation. Trust Amara to find a diplomatic way to describe the most intense sexual experience of his life.
"I understand," he said quietly, meaning every word. "I was overwhelmed too. That was pretty intense, and everything happened so fast."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she offered him a soft smile that warmed his chest. "Well, I just want you to know that I don't regret it. I wanted it, and I like you." The admission seemed to cost her something, as if acknowledging her feelings required more courage than facing down hostile negotiators. "It's just I'm here to work, and I don't want to jeopardize you or my professional objectivity right now."
"I like you too, Amara." The understatement of the century, but he sensed she wasn't ready for the full truth of how completely she'd captured him. "And as I said, I'm not going to rush our bond. I agree that keeping things low-key for now is for the best."
Relief flickered across her features, followed by something that looked suspiciously like gratitude. "So if you don't mind me asking," she said after a moment, "what happened to your father twenty years ago?"
Every muscle in his body tensed as memories he'd spent two decades trying to bury rose to the surface. His father's laugh. The pride in his eyes when he'd watched Raxen master a particularly difficult combat technique. The way the great Alpha had held Raxen close after his mother's death, promising that they would face whatever came next together.
Amara deserves the truth. She's trusted you with her own pain.
"It's a bit similar to what's happening now," he said slowly. "I guess I didn't notice the similarities until just now. My father's reputation was under attack, the pride saying he lost his way after my mother's death, and he was becoming cold and closed off. But he wasn't—someone was using his grief against him, and things started imploding into an open conflict with the neighboring territories. Things got pretty bad."
Amara leaned forward, her professional instincts engaging even as compassion softened her expression.
"So he went to negotiate a treaty, and during that meeting he was assassinated in broad daylight." The words came out flat, the only way he could speak them without breaking apart. "I was nineteen and away fighting one of the territory battles and wasn't here to protect my father."
"Raxen, I'm so sorry." Her voice carried a genuine empathy that made something crack open in his chest. "That must have been devastating."
Devastating.
Such a small word for the way his world had shattered, for the guilt that still ate at him during sleepless nights when he wondered if he could have prevented it somehow.
"It was, and I never fully recovered from it. But my uncle Tavian helped me navigate the crisis and helped me rebuild this place into what it is now."
Something flickered across Amara's face—a shadow of concern. "Tavian sounds like a good uncle, but I can't help but feel like he doesn't like me or like that I'm investigating the current crisis."
The observation was too accurate to be comforting. Raxen had been trying to ignore his own growing unease about his uncle's reaction to Amara, but hearing his concerns voiced aloud made them impossible to dismiss.
"My uncle is just really protective of Solaryn and his family. I wouldn't take it personally," he said, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.
She doesn't need more reasons to worry.
