Airy

Chapter 29

As Airy told me about seeing Lucian from her window, I wasn't sure whether to believe her. Part of me wanted to dismiss it as another panic attack, maybe even paranoia. It didn't help that she'd been reading all those books about vampires.

When I saw the fresh wound on her neck, guilt twisted inside me like a blade. I bandaged it again, but the feeling wouldn't go away—not even my wolf could silence the nagging voice that I'd let her down. Watching her now, exhausted and fragile, I couldn't shake the weight of my own regret.

She slipped her shirt back on and sank into the pillow, drifting off to sleep almost immediately. I stood there for a moment, letting her peaceful face ground me. Gently, I lifted her and laid her on the bed, pulling the blanket over her shoulders.

Needing air, I slipped out of the room and shifted, taking off into the forest. The night breeze cut through the trees, clearing my mind as I ran. I made my way through each checkpoint along the border, scanning the shadows and pausing at each stationed guard. Normally, I didn't patrol this closely, but tonight was different. Airy's words about Lucian lingered like a shadow over me.

At the first checkpoint, I found Hunter, one of the most reliable guards, his eyes sharp as he nodded at me. "All clear here, Alpha," he reported. I moved on, quickening my pace.

At the second post, another guard, Maia, was stationed. Her expression was tense as she scanned the woods. I gave her a nod, and she relaxed slightly but kept her focus steady. As I checked each point, I could sense the alertness among the guards; they felt the unease that had crept into the air.

I'm not afraid of Lucian. I know I could tear that corpse apart if he dared show his face here—but I won't risk any intruders, not with her safety on the line.

The night was pitch dark as I broke through the edge of the woods, breathing hard as my anger simmered. I grabbed a pair of shorts from the storage case nearby and threw them on before heading straight back to check on Airy. She was sound asleep, her face soft and peaceful—oblivious to the firestorm building inside me.

Not wanting to wake her, I moved quietly, heading to the shower. But the hot water did nothing to clear my head. If anything, my frustration only grew sharper. After dressing in a loose t-shirt and dress pants, I went straight to my office. Sleep wasn't happening tonight. It rarely did anyway, especially not with this on my mind.

I picked up the phone and dialed Jay.

"Get here. Now," I barked and hung up, not waiting for a response.

A few minutes later, Jay entered, slightly out of breath. "Yes, Alpha?" he said, respectful, though there was an edge of nervousness in his voice.

I stood up, crossing my arms, barely containing the anger that coiled through me. "Tell me, Jay," I said, my voice cold, "what made you think it was okay to give my mate your jacket?"

Jay's face went pale. "Alpha, I didn't mean anything by it," he said quickly. "It was cold outside, and Airy didn't have a jacket. I thought—"

"Oh, you thought, did you?" I cut him off, my voice low and sharp. "It's not your place to be thinking about what Airy needs. She's my mate, Jay. That's my responsibility. Not yours."

He swallowed, visibly uncomfortable, but he held his ground. "I was just trying to help. It didn't mean anything," he insisted, though his eyes shifted just slightly, betraying him. I knew that look.

"You don't think I know what's going on here?" I stepped closer, letting my anger radiate. "Giving her your jacket, trying to leave your scent on her. You think I didn't notice? I'm warning you, Jay—whatever you think you feel for her ends now. Airy isn't yours to look after. Or protect. She's mine."

Jay stiffened, his jaw tightening, but he dropped his gaze. "Yes, Alpha," he muttered, barely able to look me in the eye.

"Good," I said, voice hard. "Remember that. I don't care if we've been close for years. You don't cross me on this." I held his gaze a second longer, making sure he understood before I turned my back on him, dismissing him without another word.

When I heard the door close, I finally exhaled, though the jealousy and anger still simmered. Jay had better know his place, or we'd be having this conversation again. And next time, I wouldn't be nearly as civil.

I've noticed how Jay looks at Airy sometimes. It's subtle, but I see it—the way his gaze lingers just a second too long, the hint of something in his eyes he probably thinks he's hiding. They don't even interact much, but it's enough for me to pick up on it.

I know that, as my Beta, he feels a duty to protect her. But lately, I can't shake the feeling that there's more to it than that. It's not just loyalty—it's something personal, something that has no place here. And as much as I respect Jay, there's only so far that respect goes when it comes to my mate.

If he thinks he can step over that line, he's sorely mistaken. I won't let anyone, not even my own Beta, forget where boundaries lie.

Hours dragged by in the office, a haze of strategies and border defenses clouding my mind, yet never enough to distract me from the one thought that had latched onto me like a curse: Airy. Every path of logic I tried to walk was interrupted by her presence lingering at the edges, demanding my focus. By the time I finally left my desk, my patience had frayed down to nothing.

When I entered the room, she was there, deep in sleep, her form barely a shadow beneath the covers. Her face was relaxed, peaceful in a way I hadn't seen before. The sight of her lying there, unguarded and within reach, only tightened the knot of frustration in my chest. She was close, yet she felt so damn far away.

I laid down on the couch, trying to force myself into sleep, but it was useless. The darkness around me only made my thoughts sharper, more vicious. I turned, my gaze locking onto her as I lay there, my eyes tracing the slope of her shoulders, the curve of her neck. The mark I'd left on her skin. The mark that was supposed to bond her to me. Yet there it was, almost mocking me with its faintness.

I wanted more. I wanted to feel that bond settle into place, the certainty that she was mine, that every inch of her belonged to me without question or hesitation. The thought hit me with a wave of hunger so strong, it almost hurt. My fingers clenched at the edge of the couch as I imagined her accepting the bond fully, willingly letting it tie us together in a way that couldn't be broken or denied.

But instead, I was left with this ache. This hollow feeling that gnawed at me, made me wonder if the mark had even taken at all. A darker thought whispered to me—if she would ever accept it, or if she would keep herself locked away, just out of reach. I hated that idea, the idea that someone else, something else, might slip into that space, filling it before I could.

The possessive part of me wanted to close that gap, to make her see there was no escape from this—no distance, no hesitation that would last. I wanted her to know she was bound to me, not just by fate but by choice. I wanted her to feel the weight of it, to accept it completely, to let it consume her the way it did me.

But until she did, I was left with this hunger that wouldn't fade, a need that tore through me in the silence, leaving me raw and restless. And if she never accepted it—if she never surrendered to that bond? The thought twisted inside me, dark and consuming. I knew I couldn't let that happen.