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And like a fool, I do.

With trembling care, I ease beside her, pulling the remnants of cloth to shield her from the chill. The fire cracks, sending sparks dancing. She exhales a shaky breath, curling her body slightly. I lie next to her, uncertain if I should wrap an arm around her or leave her be. The chain from her collar glints between us, a harsh reminder that this closeness is built on something precarious.

A silence falls, broken only by our ragged breathing. Eventually, she shifts, turning her head to look at me. Her gaze is guarded, yet there’s a flicker of softness. “That…” she begins, then trails off.

I swallow. “I know.” Words fail me. I want to apologize, to vow I’ll free her, to claim I have answers. But I have none. All I can say is, “Are you hurt?” My voice is soft, laced with concern.

She shakes her head, brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “No,” she whispers. Then she grimaces, wincing a bit. “I mean—my ankle’s a bit sore, but… no.”

A weight I didn’t realize I was carrying lifts from my chest. I nod, uncertain how to move forward from this moment. The tension is both relieved and transformed into something deeper, more terrifying.We’ve crossed a line.We’re no longer just captor and captive, nor even reluctant allies. There’s a bond now, forged in the rush of physical need and half-buried emotions.

She averts her gaze. “This doesn’t change the fact that I still want to be free,” she says, voice brittle.

I nod slowly. “I know. It doesn’t change that I want to protect you, either.”

She laughs, a quiet, humorless sound. “So we’re stuck.”

I consider the collar, recalling how I once threatened to remove it. My mind flinches, picturing her fleeing into the forest, unable to outrun the dangers that lurk there.But how can I keep her chained after this?The conflict tears at me. “For now, yes,” I manage. “But we’ll figure something out.”

Silence stretches between us again, heavy with unspoken questions. She sighs, turning to face the fire. I sense her exhaustion, the emotional toll of the last weeks. My body aches too, but I can’t find it in myself to drift off. Instead, I sit up slightly, leaning against a chunk of rubble.

She hesitates, then shifts closer, resting her head against my arm in a gesture that’s half-reluctant, half-grateful for warmth. My wings fold around her, creating a cocoon that shields us both from the chill. The chain rattles softly as she nestles against my side, eyes sliding shut.

A wave of something akin to contentment and dread washes over me.I shouldn’t want this, but I do.My instincts, lethal and possessive, have found a new outlet—cradling her in the aftermath of what we just shared. Gently, I brush my claws through her hair, mindful of the silver streak. She doesn’t pull away, though I sense her uncertainty humming beneath the surface.

The storm outside finally breaks, a steady rain pattering on the broken stone overhead. Warm candlelight from the fire casts dancing shadows on the ruined walls.We’re exposed here, vulnerable if an enemy stumbles upon us.Yet for a brief moment, the looming threats fade, overshadowed by the quiet sound of Elyria’s breathing.

I tighten my arm around her, heart pounding with an emotion far too big to name. She’s not truly safe, not truly free, and I have no idea how to fix that. But in this hush, with her resting against my chest, I allow myself to imagine a future thatdoesn’t end in bloodshed.Foolish,maybe, but the thought glows inside me like a faint star in a dark sky.

I glance down, meeting her half-lidded stare. Her eyes reflect the dying fire, vulnerable and wary. I lean forward, pressing my forehead gently to hers. A peace settles over us, fragile as the burned logs. In the coming days, we’ll still clash, still wrestle with the chain that binds her. But for tonight, in this stolen moment, we’re bound by something else too—a collision of fear and desire that we can’t deny.

I feel her breathing slow, drifting toward sleep. I vow silently to stand guard through the night, though my own mind churns with questions.What am I now? A traitor to my race? A protector to a woman I once would have slain without question?

Whatever the answer, I know we’ve crossed a threshold. There’s no returning to our old roles. She’s in my arms, her heartbeat echoing in my ears, and I’m unwilling to let her go—even if it means defying the Alpha’s decree.

Lightning flashes in the distant sky one more time. Then darkness settles fully, and I shut my eyes, holding her close. Let the world storm outside—tonight, we stand together, no matter how impossible it may seem.

7

ELYRIA

It’s been a handful of days since I crossed that fraught line with Korrin—days that feel longer than entire months of my previous life. Time in this dilapidated outpost seems to warp, measured only by the crackle of the morning fire, the fleeting hush of midday, and the encroaching darkness that drives us behind half-collapsed walls each evening.

I move through these days with an undercurrent of tension thrumming in my veins. My ankle has healed almost completely by now; the bruises on my body have faded to faint shadows. I should feel stronger, but I’ve never been more unsteady. The ruin is still a cage—albeit one with mossy floors and open skies. And Korrin, the gargoyle who once should have been my executioner, has become my uneasy companion, my lover in a moment of heated desperation, and my self-appointed protector.

The aftermath of that night lingers like an ember beneath the ashes of our every interaction. Neither of us mentions it directly, but it colors every glance, every brush of hands, every pause in conversation. Sometimes I catch him watching me from the corner of his eye—studying me as if I’m a puzzle he hasno idea how to solve. And I do the same, stealing glimpses of his powerful form in the half-light, half-afraid he’ll sense my curiosity.

But the fragile bubble we share can’t shield us from the larger world. The signs have started appearing: a faint smell of brimstone on the wind that speaks of lurking gargoyles, or the sudden hush of forest creatures that hints at passing dark elf scouts. My instincts scream that something’s closing in. Perhaps the fortress has finally sent a hunting party. Perhaps other gargoyles have grown suspicious of Korrin’s prolonged absence. In any case, the sense of threat tightens around my chest like an invisible collar to match the real one at my throat.

I resent him for the chain that still binds me—yet each time I rage about it, I see a flicker of guilt in his golden eyes. At night, when we lie near the dying fire, it’s become our nightly ritual to fall asleep with at least a hand’s breadth of distance between us, as though we’re both trying to pretend that closeness never happened. I wake sometimes to find him watchful, wings half-unfurled, scanning the shadows beyond the broken arches of this ruin. If I’m honest, a twisted part of me feels safer with him awake. It’s a confession I’m not ready to make out loud.

I can’t deny that, without him, I’d be lost out here—perhaps dead already. My ankle might have crippled me weeks ago. Dark elves or wild beasts might have tracked me down. And I know what it means to be truly helpless. Still, I loathe the dependence. I loathe that, even now, the chain remains locked at my throat, no matter how gently he tries to excuse it. But the outside world seems more dangerous by the day, and my grudging acceptance of his protection grows with every new sign of encroaching peril.

Dawn spills a pale light through the gaps in the ruined tower’s walls. I rise from my bed of ragged blankets, rolling my shoulders to chase away the stiffness. My gaze flicks toward Korrin, who’s crouched near the fire pit, feeding the embers withdry moss. His massive wings fold close to his back, but tension radiates off him.

He glances over. Our eyes lock. No words pass, but a crackle of awareness sparks in the space between us—an echo of that night we haven’t fully addressed. My cheeks warm, and I force myself to look away, busying my hands with smoothing the blanket.

Outside, the sky is a tapestry of shifting grays, threatening rain but never quite committing. The forest stirs with restless energy. Birds call anxiously, and the hush that follows pricks at my nerves.