ALEXANDER
I had already made the decision before my fingers reached for the box.
There was no clean way around it.
I opened the small box and carefully removed the syringe.
The liquid inside was clear.
I kept my movements unhurried.
Roman noticed immediately.
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His posture changed–just slightly. His shoulders stiffened. His eyes dropped to the syringe, then
returned to my face.
“What is that?” he asked.
He already knew it was for him. That much was obvious. There was a flicker of worry in his
expression, restrained but present. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t protest. But he was alert now in a
different way.
“It’s a vaccine,” I said evenly. That was the only thing that came to mind.
The word was simple.
He hesitated. “What vaccine?”
His voice was careful, but there was something beneath it now. Caution. He wasn’t naive enough
to accept things blindly.
“You’ll need it,” I replied, keeping my tone calm. “For where you’ll be taken for better treatment.”
That wasn’t entirely false. If he was relocated, documentation and standard protocols would
require certain medical clearances. The explanation was practical enough.
He watched me for a moment longer.
It was clear he had more questions. I could see them forming behind his eyes. But he swallowed
them.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
He didn’t argue. Didn’t resist.
He simply stretched out his hand toward me.
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The trust in that gesture was heavier than I expected,
But just as I moved closer, he paused.
“What about Lady Faye?”
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The question caught me off guard–not because of the content, but because of the way he asked
- it.
It wasn’t casual or strategic. It was instinctive.
He had said her name with a familiarity that didn’t match the short time he’d been here. Barely three days.
Three days.
And yet the first person he looked for wasn’t a doctor. Not reassurance about the injection. Not
even clarification about where he was being taken.
It was Faye.
I studied his face.
There was no manipulation there. No calculation. Just a quiet need for confirmation.
“She’s resting,” I said after a moment.
He searched my face briefly, as though weighing whether to ask more.
Then he nodded.
Something about it unsettled me.
How had that attachment formed so quickly?
Faye had always been compassionate. That was part of who she was. But attachment in three
days–strong enough for him to ask for her presence at a time like this.
It meant he trusted her.
That was natural. I wasn’t the one who had stayed by his bedside. I wasn’t the one who had spoken
softly to him when he drifted in and out of consciousness.
He lowered his gaze slightly and extended his arm more fully.
The gesture was deliberate now.
I administered the injection smoothly, precise and controlled. Roman barely flinched. He watched
my hands more than he felt the needle. When it was done, I withdrew it and pressed a small piece
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of gauze to his skin.
“There,” I said simply.
He gave a small nod, as if that settled it.
I stepped back, observing.
I did not rush to put the syringe away. I waited.
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If there was even the faintest reaction–tightening of muscles, change in breathing, dilation of
pupils–I would see it.
Seconds passed.
Roman adjusted his sleeve over the injection site, unaware that anything beyond a routine procedure had just occurred. His breathing remained steady. His pulse–visible at his neck- unchanged. No tension. No flicker of discomfort beyond what a simple needle would cause.
Nothing.
Just as I had expected.
If there was a wolf in him, it was not responding.
Or it was not there at all.
Roman shifted slightly on the bed. “That’s it?” he asked quietly.
“That’s it,” I replied.
He seemed relieved by the simplicity of it. He had no idea there had been something to measure, something to confirm. To him, it had been exactly what I had said–a vaccine. Necessary. Ordinary. He was oblivious to the fact that there had been a reaction meant to occur in the first place.
I gathered the syringe carefully and placed it back into the box, sealing it without haste. My sleeves were still rolled up, and I lowered them as I closed the lid.
And then I heard her voice.
“Alexander?”
It came from the doorway.
I turned.
Faye stood there, still, her eyes moving quickly from me to Roman and then to the box in my hands. She took in the rolled sleeves, the gauze in Roman’s hand, the small container I was securing.
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Her expression shifted–confusion first, then something sharper.
She stepped further into the room.
“What is going on here?”
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FAYE
The moment I saw the syringe in his hand, something inside me went cold.
I didn’t wait for an explanation.
I brushed past Alexander without another word and went straight to Roman’s side.
“Roman,” I said quickly, my eyes scanning his face, his posture, his hands. “How are you feeling?”
He looked up at me, surprised by the urgency in my voice. “I’m… okay,” he said. “Better today, actually. Thank you.”
My gaze dropped to his arm. There was gauze taped just below his sleeve.
“And that?” I asked, already knowing.
“Oh,” he said softly. “Mr. Alexander just gave me the vaccine.”
Vaccine.
The word hit me like an insult.
I slowly turned my head toward Alexander.
“Vaccine?” I repeated.
My voice was steady, but there was no mistaking the edge in it, I’m sure.
He didn’t flinch.
“It’s fine,” Alexander said calmly. “He’s not reacting in any way.”
Our eyes met.
And in that look, I understood exactly what he meant.
No reaction. No physical response. No visible rejection.
Which meant… which meant what?
That he wasn’t a wolf? That I was wrong?
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instinct had been misplaced? That what I saw and heard were all from my imagination?
For a second, confusion flickered through me. I had expected something. Even the slightest sign.
Anything.
But Roman sat there, composed, watching us
And that unsettled me.
us both with uncertainty.
But that wasn’t what burned inside me at that moment.
What burned was the fact that Alexander had done it without telling me.
Without waiting.
Without even allowing me to be present.
I rose slowly to my feet, my eyes still locked on his.
My fingers closed around his sleeve.
“Excuse us,” I said, not looking away from Alexander.
Then I tugged at his arm and pulled him toward the door.
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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.
