STARLIGHT PROMISE:"Bound to the Lycan"

Chapter 39

ZALE's POV;
                      I'd told myself she needed this. She deserved a moment outside the confines of my protection, a taste of freedom beyond these walls. But two hours had gone by since Wilder's last update, and my instincts were on edge, pulsing with an urgency I couldn't ignore. Zora had promised they wouldn't be long—just a quick outing to pick up a few things, let her experience some of the world I could hardly share. And yet... she wasn't back.

This girl, this fragile light... she has no idea what she means to me. Wilder has kept me informed on every detail of her life since she was a child—the heartbreaks, the struggles, the dark shadows that clung to her home. Her father's treatment of her was... unforgivable. It fueled a rage in me and Lace, my wolf, that had only grown. The man was out there somewhere, but he wouldn't be for long. Soon, I'd make sure he paid for what he'd done to her.

In two days, she'd be eighteen, and Lace and I had prepared everything. Her birthday would mark the day I would finally tell her the truth, share the part of me that I'd kept hidden. The truth of who I am—and who she is, too. I knew she wouldn't believe it at first, but it was time. This was her world as much as it was mine, a destiny I couldn't keep from her any longer.

Lost in my thoughts, I left my desk, the stacks of paperwork forgotten as I stepped into the shower, hoping the water might calm my restless mind. The heat was a temporary relief, but my worries seeped through, and time slipped by faster than I'd realized. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I scrubbed my hair dry, still engrossed in the plans unfolding in my head. Her presence here was a delicate balance I had to keep; neither Zora nor my mother knew how deeply she affected me, or the pull I felt to keep her safe. There was a comfort in knowing she was under my roof, even if I hadn't told her what that meant, not yet.

But this was no ordinary guardianship, and she wouldn't feel ready to share a bed, no matter how desperately I wanted her close. For now, I'd make do with the sofa, as much as it grated at me. I wanted her comfortable, unharmed by this world and the forces that would make her vulnerable if they discovered her. But keeping my distance was getting harder with each passing day.

The air was cool as I stepped out of the bathroom, towel still over my face, preoccupied with drying my hair. I let it fall slowly, my thoughts still on her, when I lifted my gaze—and froze. There, by the door, stood Amora, her expression a mix of shock, curiosity, and something else I couldn't quite read. It was a moment caught in suspended time, her eyes wide, lips parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

The look on Amora's face was unmistakable—a mix of apprehension and uncertainty, as if I were a stranger she wasn't sure she could trust. I felt a pang, realizing that despite everything, she might still see me as... dangerous. My chest tightened, a rush of mixed emotions flaring up. I hadn't meant to surprise her like this, and though I wanted to close the distance between us, her expression held me back. She wasn't ready.

Silently, I grabbed a shirt from the closet, holding her gaze as little as possible, and turned back toward the bathroom. "I'll be back in a moment," I murmured, keeping my voice steady, calm. If she was uneasy, I wanted her to know that I'd respect the boundaries between us. There was time yet—two days until her eighteenth birthday—time for her to learn and understand who I was and why she was so important to me. But her trust, I knew, couldn't be forced. It had to be earned.

The moment the door closed behind me, I leaned against it, exhaling slowly. The tension between us was palpable, like the calm before a storm. She was here, and yet a world away, and I wanted nothing more than to bridge that distance. As I dressed, pulling the shirt over my head, my mind raced with the things I hadn't told her—things she deserved to know. She had to understand, not only her connection to this place but the ties that bound her to me.

When I reentered the room, her eyes flitted toward me, wary but curious, her fear softened by something else, something that lingered in the air between us. I held her gaze for a heartbeat, then cleared my throat, keeping my tone light. "Amora, I wanted you to know," I started, each word measured, careful, "I'll be sleeping here from now on. But you'll have your own space, and I'll be here if... if you need anything."

Her brows knitted slightly, and she seemed to weigh my words, the hint of doubt still evident. I continued, wanting her to feel safe, to feel... reassured. "I'll stay on the sofa; I won't invade your space."

A long silence followed, broken only by her soft exhale as she nodded, her shoulders relaxing, just a little. It wasn't much, but it was a start.