Was Still Cold

As the night stretched on and celebration came to a nearing end, Royal family took their leave first, then Nyma's family prepared to take their leave. She embraced her parents, her mother lingering for a moment longer, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple as if she sensed the storm brewing beneath Nyma's skin. 

Only Kael, Nyma's elder brother and his mate, Raina, Nyma's sister-in-law remained. They would be escorting Nyma to their family's territory, Raven Flack Pack in the morning, as per her request. Nyma wanted to give birth surrounded by those she trusted, rather than the den of Lycan she did not. 

The weight of the night pressed against her ribs. The veiled insults, the mocking gifts, Lucian's audacity—she had endured them all with her head high. But as her gaze flickered across the room, she found herself locked onto Adrain. 

Her mate. Her absent, distant, suspiciously preoccupied husband. 

For eight months, she had carried his child. For five, she had led their pack alone, enduring the scorn of his royal family. Yet tonight, Adrain barely spared her a glance, too absorbed in the company of his so-called 'friends'—strangers he'd never once mentioned.

Not once since his return had he reached for her, spoken to her, or even objected to her leaving. As if she were nothing more than an afterthought.

Her patience had run dry. 

Nyma rose from her seat, her movements slow and deliberate. The swell of her belly didn't hinder her—it only made her presence more commanding as she strode toward her mate. 

The group fell silent as she reached them, sensing the shift in energy. Adrain looked up, startled, as if she had disrupted some secret world he had wrapped himself in. 

Nyma tilted her head, a sweet, biting smile curving her lips. 

"Husband," she murmured, her voice silken steel. "Since they seem to be taking up so much of your time, shouldn't I at least know their names?"

Adrain had the nerve to look guilty—for half a second. Then, he smirked, as if amused by her sudden interest, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable before his lips curled into a slow, almost indulgent smile.

"My apologies, wife," he said smoothly, his voice laced with that practiced charm she no longer found amusing in this situation. "Allow me to introduce them."

A few chuckles. A few awkward coughs. He pulled her closer by encircling her waist as he dropped a kiss on her temples.

Nyma smoothed a hand over the curve of her belly, grounding herself as she took in the group before her. They lounged around her husband, laughing at his words, brushing too close, acting as if she did not exist. 

She existed. 

And she had endured too much to let them pretend otherwise. 

The first stepped forward— a towering male, scars twisting across his face and arms, his presence thick with something unspoken. A fighter, a survivor. 

"Cain," he grunted. No embellishments. No need. 

Nyma met his gaze, unflinching. "A pleasure," she said, though it wasn't. 

The second— a woman with a smirk that spoke of secrets, her gaze assessing. She moved with snake-like grace, a blade resting against her thigh. 

"Vasha," she purred. "Poison expert. Good with knives, better with lies." 

Nyma didn't blink. "How fortunate," she murmured. "I do hope your expertise isn't needed while you're here."

Vasha's smirk twitched, but she inclined her head in mock amusement. 

The third—a man who spoke little but saw everything. A haunted expression sat heavy in his gaze. "Dante," he murmured, his nod brief. 

Nyma studied him. Quiet wolves were the most dangerous. She gave a small nod in return. "Welcome." Nyma sensed a quiet kind of intelligence in him, the sort that saw far more than it ever admitted.

The fourth and fifth: A pair of twins, their eerie resemblance making it difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

The brother spoke first, all easy arrogance. "Dren," he said, nudging the sister beside him, "and Della."

Della's gaze raked over Nyma with amusement. "We do what we want, when we want." Her lips curled, leaning forward giving Nyma a kiss on cheeks as if Nyma were a passing curiosity. "Especially who we want." 

Nyma smiled, slow and deliberate. "How bold." Her tone dropped to something softer, something edged. "I hope you never mistake freedom for a lack of consequence." 

Della blinked, her smirk faltering just slightly. Nyma wondered if Adrain's friends knew that Nyma was not a Lycan but a werewolf and if they see Nyma's she-wolf, she was sure none of Adrain's friends would like her a bit. 

Nyma held their gazes, unflinching. She had been raised among wolves who thought dominance was a birthright. She had learned to win.

"And yet, you're all here under my roof," she said smoothly, arching a brow. "How interesting."

Dren's smirk faltered just slightly.

And then— the last in the group step forward. Nyma felt the shift in the air before she even spoke. 

"Myself, Lira," Adrian said, his voice softening in a way that sent ice down Nyma's spine.

The woman who stepped forward was stunning—all dark curls and honeyed skin, her smile sharp as a dagger.

"Lira," Nyma repeated, the name tasting like ash on her tongue. She knew that name. The name rang through her skull like a war drum. 

Adrain's ex-lover. The one he had claimed meant nothing. 

The one he had assured her had been merely a passing mistake, a fleeting distraction before fate bound him to Nyma.

And yet, standing before her now, the woman did not look like a discarded past. She looked like a lingering presence. A ghost that had never left. 

Nyma's fingers curled at her sides. She turned, slowly, fixing her gaze on her mate. Adrian had mentioned her once, in passing—his father's Beta's daughter. His first love. His almost-mate. "It was just a fling," he'd said, brushing it off like it meant nothing.

Nyma took her in—the way she leaned toward Adrain as if drawn by instinct, the way she hadn't once acknowledged Nyma until now. 

A challenge. 

Nyma smiled, slow and knowing. "Lira," she echoed, testing the weight of the name. "How lovely to finally meet you all." 

Then Nyma turned back to her husband, tilting her head slightly. "I appreciate the introductions," she said, her voice pleasant. But beneath it, beneath the sweetness— there was steel. 

She let the silence stretch. Then, said facing them all—"Now that I know who they are, I trust they remember who I am." 

Adrain's smile faltered. And Lira, she stepped back.

"I am Nyma," she said, her tone carrying the weight of both duty and devotion. "Luna of the Frostfang Pack. Wife to Alpha Adrain, chosen not just by fate, but by choice. The mother of his firstborn and the keeper of the home he returns to."

She let her eyes drift over each of them—not in challenge, but in quiet acknowledgment, as if she saw past their facades to the truths they thought they hid.

The tension from the baby shower had settled into an odd quiet as the night stretched on. Adrain had finally peeled himself away from his ever-present entourage, and for the first time since his return, he looked at her.

Not with the distant, distracted gaze he had carried all evening, but with something softer, something almost… genuine.

"You're glowing," he murmured, his golden eyes tracing her face, lingering on the curve of her belly.

Nyma arched a brow. "Am I?" Finally, he noticed her. 

He stepped closer, reaching out as though realizing something for the first time. His fingers brushed along the side of her face, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"You are," he said, almost to himself. "The baby… he's given you something eternal."

It was true. Her body had changed, her shape fuller, her skin kissed with an undeniable glow. And for the first time in a long time, she didn't see cold duty in his expression. She saw the man who had once promised eternity to her, stood up for her, claimed her.

She wanted to hold on to that moment, to believe that maybe she over thought and this night could be different. Then, in an unexpected, uncharacteristic gesture, Adrain bent down and swept her into his arms.

Nyma gasped, gripping onto his shoulders. "Adrain—"

"You must be wearisome. Let me take you to bed," he murmured. "My Luna." Her heart stuttered. It had been so long since he had said it with meaning.

So she let him.

The tension between them softened into something familiar, something that almost felt like love. His lips found hers, his hands traced the shape of her body with a tenderness that had been missing for far too long.

For a fleeting moment, Nyma allowed herself to believe this was real and no longer her dream.

But then—the knock. A sharp, insistent rap against the chamber doors. Adrain stiffened above her, a growl curling in his throat.

"Alpha," his Beta's voice called through the wood, urgent, insistent. "It's important." Adrain let out a heavy breath, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Stay," she whispered. His fingers curled against her waist as though he wanted to, but duty won.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, a whisper of an apology against her skin. And then he was gone, leaving nothing behind but his fading warmth.

Nyma lay in the empty bed for hours, waiting. She must have dozed off eventually, because when she woke, her bed was still cold.