Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Jake was supposed to be running a training session for his advanced warriors. He’d been in the middle of drills, barking commands, Rome razor–focused. Until the wind shifted.
Honey and strawberries.
The scent hit him like a punch to the gut. Rome whined low in his chest, restless and alert, already knowing. She was nearby.
Jake’s concentration faltered. He scanned the field until he spotted her. Pale, determined, too damn stubborn for her own good.
Lyra.
She was running drills with the group she’d been assigned, moving slower than usual, her body visibly fighting every motion. Through the bond, he could feel it. Her exhaustion bled into him like a frayed nerve, shaky and unsteady. It took everything he had not to storm over and carry her off the field.
Why today, of all days? Why couldn’t she rest? He’d asked for one damn thing. Just one. Let her body recover. But no, Lyra had something to prove.
And now here they were.
She sat slumped in the passenger seat of her newly repaired car, her head leaning against the window, eyelids heavy with fatigue. The silence between them was thick, weighted more by what wasn’t said. He knew she wanted to argue when he told her he’d run back to the packhouse after dropping her off. Her lip had twitched, defiance flashing across her face. Then, to his relief, she bit her tongue.
It was the only reason he hadn’t lost his temper entirely.
When they pulled into the driveway, she moved to open her door, but Jake was already there.
“I’ve got it,” she muttered.
He ignored her. “You’re barely staying upright.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
He didn’t wait. He scooped her into his arms with practiced ease. She let out a soft sound of protest but didn’t fight him, too tired to keep up the facade.
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+25 Points
Inside, he nudged her bedroom door open with his foot and carried her straight to the bed. He set her down gently, careful not to jostle her, then knelt to untie her shoes.
“I can do that,” she murmured.
“I know.”
He tugged them off one by one, then reached for the hem of her shirt.
Her hand caught his wrist. “What are you doing?”
“You need a shower,” he said gruffly. His fingers twitched against the fabric, but he didn’t pull yet. He waited, watching her expression.
She held his gaze for a moment longer, then exhaled and let her hand fall away. “Fine.”
He peeled the shirt over her head with slow, deliberate movements, revealing the sports bra beneath. Her skin was flushed, covered in a faint sheen of sweat and dirt. She looked worn down to the bone and still gorgeous.
“Are you going to help me shower too?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her voice edged with
annoyance.
“And if I did?” he asked before he could stop himself. His voice was low, rough. Heat flickered
through him at the thought.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that kind of shower, Jake.”
He smirked, but it faded quickly as he watched her stand. The way she moved, slow, stiff, favoring one leg, made his jaw tighten. She limped to the dresser and grabbed a pair of soft pajama pants and an oversized T–shirt. He wanted to help. Every fiber of him screamed to make it easier for her. But she needed space. She needed to feel like she could do this.
So he stayed where he was, fists clenched at his sides.
Lyra disappeared into the bathroom, and only then did he let himself move. He stretched out across her bed, the scent of her wrapping around him.
She was going to be the death of him.
Jake lay there, staring at the ceiling, but he wasn’t really seeing it. His focus was entirely on her, the sound of the water running in the bathroom, the faint, comforting buzz of her presence through the mate bond.
The water shut off. A minute later, she padded back into the room wrapped in a towel, damp curls sticking to her shoulders. Her face was pink from the steam, her expression softer,
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more open.
+25 Points
ts>
Jake sat up, elbows resting on his knees as he watched her. He couldn’t help it. He always watched her.
“You stayed,” she said quietly, pulling on her pajamas with a slight wince. “Didn’t think you would.”
“You thought I’d drop you off and run?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes serious. “You’re not a chore, Lyra.”
She didn’t answer right away. She pulled her T–shirt over her head and crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed beside him, close but not quite touching. Her thigh barely brushed his. The air between them felt charged.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said softly. “I just… I know I make things complicated.”
Jake turned toward her, fully focused. “You don’t make things complicated. Things just are. That’s not your fault.”
She hesitated. “Do you ever think it would’ve been easier if I hadn’t come back? If you hadn’t found out I was your mate?”
His instinct was to say no, but he could see she genuinely wanted an answer.
He sighed and took her hand, turning it over on his thigh so he could trace the lines of her palm. He noticed the faint tremor in her fingers.
“In some ways, yeah. It probably would’ve been easier. But I think I would’ve felt empty. Like something vital was missing.” He looked up at her, meeting the storm in her eyes.
“I was being pushed toward a mate I didn’t want. Kylie’s sweet, but there was no pull. No spark.
No… whatever this is.”
He gave a small, self–conscious shrug. “So maybe easier. But definitely not better.”
Lyra looked at him for a long moment, then leaned in. He met her halfway, their lips brushing, soft and lingering.
Something roared to life inside his chest, a powerful feeling that made it hard to breathe. She leaned in further, her lips parting. His groan was soft, involuntary, as their kiss deepened.
When it ended, he rested his forehead against hers, breath ragged.
“You need to rest,” he murmured.
“I know.” Her voice was small, vulnerable. “Stay with me? Just for a little while?”
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He smiled faintly. “Always.”
+25 Points
They settled into the bed together, her head nestled against his chest, right over his heart. He held her close, listening as her breathing slowed and deepened.
There were a dozen things he should’ve been doing, but there was nowhere else he wanted to
- be.
**
An hour later, Jake stirred when he heard movement in the house.
“Lyra?” Lyle called, his footsteps heading down the hallway.
Jake braced himself, holding Lyra protectively as she slept against him.
The door eased open, and Lyle stood in the frame, arms crossed.
“I shouldn’t even be surprised you’re here at this point,” Lyle muttered.
Jake sighed and carefully shifted Lyra off his chest. She didn’t even stir. He followed Lyle into the kitchen, rubbing a hand over his face.
“She went to training,” Jake said quietly.
“Of course she did.” Lyle shook his head. “I stopped by the mechanic on the way home. He said she picked up the car. I figured she pulled something stupid.”
He glanced toward the hallway. “Is she going to be okay?”
Jake nodded. “If she rests. If she lets herself rest.”
Lyle gave a humorless laugh. “She’s always had something to prove.”
“I’ve got to get back to the packhouse,” Jake said. “Missed the afternoon session, and there’s stuff I need to catch up on.” He hesitated, then added, “Can you let her know where I went?”
Lyle gave him a sharp nod, his expression unreadable.
Jake cast one last look toward the hallway, his chest heavy. Then he slipped out the door, already feeling the quiet tug of the bond pulling him back.
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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.
