CHAPTER 55
The evening had grown heavy with the soft glow of the lights and the low hum of voices drifting from the living room, but Asher and I had long since made our decision. We were done pretending. Done weaving through polite smiles and half–hearted conversations with his family. It was late, yes, but the world beyond his room could wait. Tonight was for us.
“Trinity.” Asher murmured, his voice low, almost a growl of concern, as he looped his arm through mine while we slipped past the last of the gathering. “Are you… sure you’re okay? I mean…” His words faltered, unspoken fears lingering in the spaces between. He didn’t need to finish. I knew. He feared what my brother might have done. The unthinkable, the thing I’d tried to bury in the deepest corners of my mind.
I squeezed his hand, my other brushing along his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my fingers. “I’m… better, Asher. With you, I’m… better.”
He swallowed hard and pressed his forehead against mine. “I’ve been so scared. I can’t- Trinny, I can’t even imagine what you went through.”
“You don’t have to imagine.” I said softly. “Just… stay with me tonight.”
He didn’t need to hear more. He followed me up the narrow staircase to his room–the one I’d been staying in since arriving here–closing the door gently behind us, shutting the rest of the world away. The room smelled of him, a mixture of pine–scented soap, worn leather, and that faint, earthy musk that only a werewolf carries. I felt a shiver, not from cold, but from the pull between us–the magnetic, undeniable tether that bound our souls. Mates. Always mates.
“I’ll run you a shower.” He said, moving toward the bathroom doorway.
Asher blinked at me, his usual bravado faltering under the weight of concern.
“Yes.” I whispered. “Please.”
I followed, shedding my jacket and loosening my shirt as we entered the bathroom. Steam curled from the faucet as he turned it on, the water growing hotter by the second. I shivered, and Asher immediately stepped close, hand brushing along my shoulder.
“I’ve got you.” He murmured. “Every step.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. I felt fragile, exposed–not just in the physical sense, but in the emotional rawness I had carried for far too long. His presence was an anchor, a balm I didn’t know I needed until this very moment.
He helped me out of my clothes, fingers gentle, patient, careful. I closed my eyes, letting him
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guide me, letting him be the one in control for a while. There was no shame here, no fear- just trust, and the deep, unshakable bond of our connection.
As soon as Asher had also shed his clothes, we stepped under the warm water, I felt Asher slip in beside me, his body brushing against mine. The intimacy was quiet, tender–not the need of lust or desire, but something deeper, something primal and sacred. His hand slid along my back, tracing lines that seemed to draw out my pain and replace it with safety.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He said softly, voice low enough that only I could hear. “Just… let me be here.”
“… I just…” My voice cracked, and I turned slightly, pressing my forehead against his chest. ” I’m scared, Asher. Of him. Of what… I don’t even want to say it.”
“You’re safe now.” He murmured, tightening his arms around me. “He can’t ever hurt you again, not after what you did.”
The water fell over us, hot and soothing, and I felt some of the tension that had gripped my body for weeks begin to melt away. We stood there, entwined, sharing warmth and silence, letting the world outside disappear. His heartbeat against mine was steady, grounding, a reminder that I wasn’t alone. That I never would be again.
When we finally stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around me, then another around himself. The simple act of drying my hair and helping me into fresh clothes became a ritual of care, of rebuilding trust in my own body. He dressed me with gentle hands, brushing stray wet strands from my face, smoothing the fabric over my shoulders. Being very careful of my injured shoulder. Every touch was deliberate, tender, affirming.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I leaned against him, his arm around my shoulders. “I missed this.” I admitted, voice muffled against his chest. “Being… with you, like this.”
“I missed you.” He said simply. “Every day you were away, every day I thought about you… every second I was waiting for this moment.”
We didn’t need to say more. Words had limits, but our bodies and our bond did not. He pulled me closer, resting his head against mine, and I felt the pull of our shared energy–the subtle vibrations of our werewolf nature, the deep, instinctive knowledge that we were meant for each other.
“I know I scared you.” I said, the words heavy with guilt. “I didn’t mean to… to worry you.”
“You think I was scared?” His grin was small, teasing, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I was terrified. I didn’t want to see you hurt. I didn’t want to see what he… did. But you’re here. With
- me. And that’s all that matters now.”
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I tilted my head, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of his jaw. “I’m here.” I whispered. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
The night stretched around us, quiet and full of unspoken promises. We talked about trivial things at first–our favorite memories, shared secrets, silly what–if scenarios that made us laugh quietly–but slowly, the conversation deepened. He asked about my fears, my pain, and I let him in. Piece by piece, I told him the parts I had hidden from everyone else, the darkest corners of my mind, the memories I had tried to suppress.
And he listened. Not with pity, not with judgment, but with the unwavering devotion of a mate who would carry my burdens if I asked, who would fight the world itself to protect me.
“I can’t take it away.” He said at one point, voice trembling slightly, “but I can be here. I can hold you. I can make sure you don’t feel alone anymore.”
“You do.” I said. “Just by being here. That’s enough.”
Hours passed like this. Words weaving through the darkness, hands holding, bodies pressed together. There was no rush, no expectation. Just us. And slowly, the tension of the past week–the terror, the uncertainty, the despair–began to dissipate. My breathing slowed, my body relaxed, and I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: safety. Pure, unshakable safety.
Eventually, the conversation faded, replaced by the quiet hum of our breathing and the subtle shifting of our bodies as we made ourselves comfortable under the blankets. Asher’s arms curled around me, pulling me against his chest, and I pressed my cheek into his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent that had always been home.
“I love you.” He murmured, voice barely audible. “I don’t say it enough, but I… I love you, Trinity. Always have, always will.”
“I love you too.” I whispered, feeling the words settle into my chest like a warm flame. “I always have. And I always will.”
We lay like that, two souls bound by more than choice or chance, entwined in the quiet intimacy that only mates could share. The night outside continued its slow march, but in his room, time had no meaning. There was only this moment, only us, only the soft rhythm of heartbeats and breaths and the deep, unbroken bond that tethered us together.
Sleep came eventually, not rushed, not forced, but like a tide gently pulling us under. I clung to him, felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, and allowed myself to drift into the safety of dreams, knowing that no matter what horrors the day might have held, we had reclaimed this night. Together.
And as I slipped into sleep, I felt the quiet, steady certainty of our bond–the unbreakable tether of mates, the primal, sacred connection that even the darkest experiences could not
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sever. Tonight, we survived. Tonight, we had healed. Tonight, we were together, and nothing else mattered.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
SUMMARY (~1000 Words in English)
