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"The wounds are almost completely closed," Raxen said, moving toward his walk-in closet. "I could shift without risk."

"Could and should are different things." Amara set aside the reports and rose from the burgundy leather armchair. "Besides, you gave me your word you'd follow the healer's instructions."

"I said I'd consider them."

Over the past two days, as she'd tended his wounds and watched him sleep, she'd felt something fundamental shift inside her chest. The walls she'd built around her heart—carefully constructed after Logan's betrayal—had begun cracking under the steady pressure of Raxen's unwavering honesty and attention.

He's so different. He sees me. Really sees me. Not what he wants me to be, but who I actually am.

"Just get dressed," she said, her voice softer than before. "I'll go downstairs and grab your breakfast."

Ten minutes later, Amara balanced a tray as she pushed through the chamber doors with her hip. The morning sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting golden light across the spacious room where Raxen sat propped against the headboard of his massive bed. He'd chosen dark pants and a white shirt, left partially unbuttoned, revealing the healing marks across his chest.

Stop staring at his chest, Amara. Be professional. But what's professional about sharing a bed with your patient for two nights in a row?

The thought flushed her cheeks as she approached the bed. She'd told herself it was purely practical—someone needed to monitor his condition and ensure he didn't attempt any midnight escapes to hunt down his fugitive uncle. But lying beside Raxen's warm, solid form, listening to his steady breathing in the darkness, had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"Are you going to let me finally leave this room today?" Raxen asked as she set the tray across his lap. His fingers brushed hers as he reached for a piece of fruit, sending that familiar electric awareness racing up her arm.

Amara perched on the edge of the mattress, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. "I'll only let you leave this room on one condition," she said, proud that her voice remained steady despite the way her heart hammered.

Raxen paused with a piece of Nova Auroran citrus halfway to his mouth, his blue eyes sharpening with sudden attention. "Oh, what condition is that?"

Amara took a deep breath, feeling as though she stood at the edge of a cliff, ready to leap into unknown territory. Over the past two days, between quiet conversations, shared meals, and the simple intimacy of caring for him, she'd realized something that both terrified and exhilarated her.

I love him.

Not because of some mystical mate bond or alien biology, but because of who he was. The way he'd defended her in front of the most powerful people in his territory. The way he'd trusted her judgment even when it went against every protective instinct. The way he looked at her like she was the answer to questions he'd never known he was asking.

I came to Nova Aurora to reclaim my old self. Instead, I'm becoming someone new. Someone stronger.

"After you give me your mate mark," she said, the words emerging with quiet certainty. "I'm ready to complete our bond."

Raxen nearly choked on the fruit, his eyes widening in shock. "Excuse me, what did you just say?"

"I'm finally ready to accept your mark and complete our bond." Amara reached out to steady the tray as Raxen's hands went slack with surprise. "I've been thinking about it for days, and I⁠—"

"Amara, there's something I need to tell you," Raxen interrupted, his expression shifting from shock to something that looked almost like guilt. "Something I should have said sooner, but I wasn't sure how to tell you."

Oh, no. Please don't let him be like Logan after all.

"What is it?" she asked, proud that her voice remained calm despite the sudden knot of anxiety in her stomach.

Raxen set the tray aside and reached for her hands, his larger fingers engulfing hers with gentle strength. "I originally hired Gerri to find my fated mate because I needed a mate to keep my position and legitimacy. I'm turning forty in three weeks, and pride tradition demands the Alpha have a mate before then, or I lose everything."

The words hit Amara like punches. For a moment, she couldn't breathe or think past the roaring in her ears, which sounded suspiciously like her worst fears coming true.

Duty. Obligation. Politics. Using me for what I could give him.

But even as the thoughts formed, something deeper in her chest whispered that she was wrong. The pain in Raxen's eyes, the way his hands trembled slightly as they held hers, the raw honesty in his voice…

This isn't manipulation. This is a confession.

"Amara," Raxen continued, his voice thick with emotion, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. But trust me—I love you. Not because the bond says I should, not because tradition says I need to, but because of who you are. Because of how you treat me. Because of how you love me."

The sincerity in his words, the vulnerability he was offering her, cracked something open in Amara's chest. Through their growing mate bond, she could feel the truth of his emotions—the fear that she'd leave, the desperate hope that she'd stay, the overwhelming love that had nothing to do with duty and everything to do with choice.

"I believe you," she said softly, lifting one hand to cup his face. "I trust you. And I love you too. Because you could have mishandled my heart, but you never have. Because you've shown me what real partnership looks like."