Yes, Your Highness (18+)

27

It was all beginning to weave together, like threads of a tapestry coming into focus. Memories that I believed were buried deep came rushing back, vivid and alive. I found solace resting against his bare chest, my head nestled close enough to catch the gentle rhythm of Chase's steady heartbeat. One beat melded into another, creating a soothing cadence that filled the quiet space between us. The soft rise and fall of his breath caressed my back and shoulders, sending delightful shivers cascading down my spine. Each embrace sparked an electricity that danced across my skin, irresistible and intoxicating, urging me to meet his gaze.

"Chase?" I called softly, my voice barely breaking the serene atmosphere. He responded with an understated grunt, a sound that conveyed more than words could at that moment, at least for him. A playful grin tugged at my lips as my fingers traced what I believed to be a scar on his chest, my curiosity piqued. "Is it okay if I ask what happened?" I ventured cautiously. His response came slowly, a deep sigh escaping his lips, "It was bound to be told to you one day." He closed his stunning golden eyes, as if bracing himself for the weight of his memories to resurface.

"My sister, the one whose grave you saw me hovering over... She wasn't my biological sibling." His words hung heavy in the air, and I leaned in, captivated by his explanation of who Savanna was."Savanna was a human. She was the one who understood me in every possible way, even when I didn't understand myself." There was a tremor in his voice, a hint of guilt lurking beneath the surface. 

"What happened to her?" I gently pressed, sensing the shift in his demeanor as he fell silent. "She died because of my mistake," Chase confessed, his voice thick with sorrow. 

"My mistake was that I let her die at the hands of the lycanthrope," he said, the words spilling forth like bitter truth. A wave of unease washed over me as I asked the question that haunted me, "Did you kill her?" His response was a rumble from deep within his chest, startling yet resolute. "No," he growled through his strained voice. "Savanna died because of the mistake I made when I challenged the lycan king, Lycaon. I fought him, but in the end, I lost her to his pack." He stopped, sitting up abruptly. His legs swung over the edge of the bed, and I could feel the tension coursing through him like a tempest, anger threatening to boil over.

"I'm so sorry that happened," I whispered, tracing my fingers gently over the intricate markings on his back, wishing to soothe his troubled soul. "Savanna is now your guardian angel; she became your protector in spirit," I added, a soft hope woven into my words. He let out a wry chuckle, though the sadness still clung to his voice. "In truth, that is the most glorious thing I have ever heard." Even with his back turned, I could sense the sorrow cloaking him, and I rubbed gentle circles into his back, hoping to reassure him that his feelings were not only valid but shared. My heart ached at the sight of him so burdened by a past that had haunted him for what felt like eons. Yet, all I knew to say was, "I'm here."

With my head pressed into his upper back, I felt him slowly relax into the warmth of our embrace. "Thank you," he murmured, and a gentle smile broke across my face as it rested against his skin. "What are destined mates for?" I teased half-heartedly, a playful lilt to my voice. Chase smirked at my question, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "What a silly question," he replied, "Exactly what you are to me: loving and embracing this journey of emotional support." He turned to face me, his hand cradling my cheek before pressing a tender kiss onto my forehead.

Just two hours later, we rose and took a leisurely shower, the warm water cascading over us, washing away the remnants of the day. Once again, I slid into one of Chase's oversized shirts, feeling enveloped in his scent, a comforting reminder of his presence. As night fell, we settled onto the couch, our bodies entwined, captivated by the vibrant colors of a Disney movie, Beauty and the Beast. I had only watched it a few times during my childhood, but its essence was familiar. As I listened sleepily to the dialogue drifting from the television, I slipped into a lucid dream. Slowly, the comforting warmth of the room was replaced by an eerie sensation. In the depths of my mind, I felt the unsettling presence of someone watching me. A shadowy figure began to approach, the darkness creeping closer, twisting my dream into a waking nightmare. A surge of panic jolted me, and I found myself mid-scream, "NO! Don't–!!"