CHAPTER 37

Beatrice’s POV

His Secrets in the Dark

After the uncomfortable silence that had pervaded the room minutes before, both Xander and I had an unspoken agreement.

“I’ll take the couch,” I said, heading toward it with as much confidence as I could muster.

Xander’s eyes darted to the plush king-sized bed and then back to me. His jaw clenched, as if he wanted to argue. “Suit yourself.”

His tone was inscrutable, but I noticed the minute change in the angle of his body — how his fingers twitched at his sides, the infinitesimal drumroll between him and the world he was about to leave. He didn’t like the idea. But he let it go, for now.

I shunted aside the way my chest tightened at the idea of him arguing further, of him insisting I take the bed. It would have almost been easier if he had stayed cold, detached, how he once was. This new version, the version of him who lingered too close, who looked at me the way you’d look at something soft and precious, was so much more dangerous.

Xander reached toward the bedside lamp and flicked it off. And with this, the room was shrouded into its soft darkness, illuminated only by the city lights, faintly pirating through the sheer curtains. It was a muted silence, broken only by the distant hum of motor vehicles far below.

I curled up on the couch, draping a soft blanket over myself. It was cushy, cozy, but not at all as inviting as the bed on the other side of the room. I could sense Xander’s presence, even as he faced away, his breath deep and steady.

It felt odd — this tacit truce among us.

No cruelty, no rather biting remarks. Just silence.

And somehow that felt heavier than any fight.

I exhaled, turned onto my side and reached for my phone. My fingers flew to Sarah’s chat without thinking.

Me: Hey, how are they?

A second later, there were typing dots.

Sarah: They went to sleep like five hours ago. They had already done the Hail Mary play today.

I smiled at the thought of the triplets snuggled up against one another in their wee beds, legs and arms splayed over the sheets, chests rising and falling in sleep.

Me: Thank you for taking care of them, Sarah. I owe you.

Sarah: You don’t owe me anything, girl. But, uh… are you okay? You sound off.

I paused, fingers poised above the keyboard.

How could I have explained this?

That I’d been in the same room as Xander. That we were playing this very dangerous game of proximity, as if nothing was happening. That every time he even glanced at me, my heart bent in unnatural angles.

That I was fooling myself, imagining I could protect my heart.

Me: It’s… complicated.

Sarah: Complicated how?

I sighed, looking at the bright screen.

I had wanted to tell her all of it. But I wasn’t ready.

Me: I’ll explain later. All I can tell you is that I already miss home.

Sarah: We miss you too, Bea. The triplets are so excited for you to return.

My heart squeezed.

I could see them right now — Caleb’s impish smile, Cooper’s jolly giggle, Charlotte’s obstinate pout. They were my life, and they were all that kept me grounded when everything else felt like it was in the wind.

For a few minutes longer, Sarah and I chatted, her notes full of good-natured ribbing and news of the kids. It felt good to laugh, to talk about things that didn’t matter, like Caleb’s recent obsession with superhero movies or how Charlotte thought she could braid her own hair (spoiler: it didn’t end well)

For a moment, I felt normal.

For that moment, I was simply Beatrice Emberlyn—the woman who had clawed and scratched to survive, who had built a life for herself, away from the darkness of her past.

Before Xander.

Into this swirl of feeling and unwritten history.

But reality set in as I put my phone down.

The suite was too quiet now.

I could hear Xander breathing, even, and regular. He wasn’t asleep. I could tell from the effects on his body, little spasms of tension in his arms, occasional shuffles of the blankets as he turned over.

He was awake.

And so was I.

Stuck in this strange neither here nor there, neither one of us wanting to shatter the silence that had formed, but both well aware of the invisible tether growing taut between us.

I pressed my eyes tight, prepared for sleep to come.

But in my gut, I realized that tonight, and so many nights past, I would not go quietly into that dark night.

Ultimately, I had grown tired of sleeping like a human, and said goodnight.

I snuggled down on the couch and shifted a little to get comfortable and fell into a deep sleep.

I don’t know how long I’d been asleep when something startled me awake.

For a while I didn’t know what it was.

And then I heard it — Xander’s voice, heavy with panic.

“Don’t kill them… Don’t kill them… Don’t kill them!

I shot up, heart pounding.

He was kicking and punching in bed, his body soaked in sweat, his breathing erratic.

A nightmare.

My hands went out for him and I rushed toward his side without thinking.

“Xander?” I called, and he didn’t hear me. His body shook, fists balled up in the sheets. His face contorted in pain.

My chest tightened.

I had never seen this side of him.”

“Xander,” I said again, this time shaking him gently.

His eyes shot open and he gasped.

For a moment, he wasn’t here.

His eyes were wild, unfocused.”

Then they arrived at me, and something in him settled.

I let out a breath. “It was having a nightmare.”

He was still panting and the skin was in flames. Instinctively, I reached for him, placing a hand on his forehead. He was burning up.

“You need to just calm down,” I murmured.

Before I had time to second-guess myself, I eased him up and started to unbutton his wet shirt.

He didn’t protest.

I yanked the shirt off and uncovered his overheated skin to the cool air.

That’s when I saw it.

My breath caught.

Right there, on his back—

My name.

Beatrice.

It wasn’t just written.

It was carved into his skin.

My stomach flipped.

I sucked in a breath, my fingers running over the marking once more, the inked letters were stark against his tanned skin.

It was my name.

Etched into his very being.

I had known about mate marks before—wolves physically bore the bond, a scarring of destiny that bound them to their true mate. But this… this was different.

This wasn’t merely a sign of the bond.

It was my name.

Had it always been there?

Had he been hiding this from me all along?

A strange combination of feelings washed over me — shock, disbelief, but also something far more perilous… hope.

Because despite the rejection, despite the pain, despite the gulf that widened between us for years, this mark demonstrated something I wanted to deny.

Xander had always been mine.

And I had always been his.

My throat closed up as I kept brushing my fingers across the mark, tracing each letter as if I needed to memorize it. My brain scrambled to make sense of what this meant.

If I had written my name on him all along, then why…?

Why had he rejected me?

Why had he distanced me from him for years?

Why had he booted me out, made me feel we were nothing?

I felt a pain in my chest, the understanding settling like a stone in my stomach. He knew. He had always known.

And yet he had still hurt me.

Still abandoned me.

It still made me feel like I was planned.

The wound of betrayal burned through me, but before I could pull my hand away, before I could demand answers —

His hand snapped out and closed around my wrist.

I gasped as he pulled me in closer, and my body smashed up against his bare chest.

Heat.

That was all I felt.

The warmth of his skin. The way his calloused fingers dragged across my wrist as his hand curled around it. The pure, tremendous power rolling off him in waves.

I should have pulled away.

I should have run.

But I couldn’t move.

His hold wasn’t rough, but it was unyielding — as if he were afraid that if he relaxed his grip, I would vanish.

His breath fanned my cheek, uneven, ragged.

And when he spoke, his voice was raspy. Desperate.

“Don’t leave.”

A shiver ran through me at the rawness of his tone.

It wasn’t an order.

It wasn’t a command.

It was a plea.

I felt my heart beat so loudly, I thought he could hear it.

This was dangerous.

This was Xander.

And he wasn’t pushing me away for the first time in years.

And right now, his hold on me was fierce, as if I was all that was keeping him from drifting away from reality.

I didn’t know whether to stay or flee.]

But before I could decide—

There was a flash of something dark in his eyes. Something desperate.

And then, he whispered—

“Stay with me, Beatrice. Just for tonight.”