Primal Instinct

18-COMFORT

He stripped off his wet shirt and tossed it aside, leaving just his undershirt and pants. The sight of bare forearms and the curve of his shoulders did not help. Not even a little. He hesitated for a long moment at the edge of the bed, then sat, back leaning against the headboard. He lifted an arm in a silent invitation.

"Come here," he said quietly. "Before you talk yourself into panicking again."

"I'm not panicking."

"You're vibrating," he replied. "Get over here, rabbit."

The nickname shouldn't have made my stomach flip. It did anyway.

I shifted closer, uncertain. Every inch nearer turned the volume up on the bond inside me. By the time my head was near his shoulder, my whole body buzzed. He reached down, hand gentle at my waist, and guided me to lie against him, my back to his chest. His arm settled over my middle, heavy and warm.

The world exhaled. The heat didn't vanish—but it stopped climbing. It stopped trying to rip me apart from the inside. Instead, it simmered, deep and pulsing, kept in check by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the drum of his heart against my spine.

My eyes fluttered shut on a shaky exhale. "It's... better."

"I know," he said, voice low, almost resigned. "It always will be when you're near me."

That should've been terrifying. It was. It was also the first time in days I'd felt something like relief. We lay there in silence for a while. My body didn't exactly behave. The ache throbbed steadily, each pulse dragging awareness back to every point where we touched—his thighs bracketing mine, the press of his chest to my back, the weight of his hand splayed just under my ribs. I shifted, trying to ease it.

His breath stuttered. His hand tightened for a second, then loosened again slowly, deliberately.

"Nai," he warned, voice rough.

"Sorry," I whispered. "I'm not... trying to do anything. I just—"

"I know what you're doing," he said. "And what you're not. Just... try to be still."

"I'm a little busy trying not to combust," I muttered.

His chest rumbled behind me. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a growl. "You're so infuriating."

"You're the one who did this to me."

"We both know that's not true," he said quietly. "The bond did this. Fate did this. Whatever you want to call the sick joke that put you in my path." A pause. His voice softened. "I would never have chosen this for you."

I stared at the wall, swallowing past something tight in my throat. "Is it really that bad? Being... whatever this is to you?"

Silence. Then, "For me? No." The admission was raw. "For you? It's a death sentence."

My heart skipped. "You keep saying that like it's fact, but you won't tell me why."

"Because knowing won't change it." His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer like he wanted to fuse us together and push me away at the same time. "There are things tied to my bloodline. To what I am. To what I've done. The moment you're fully mine, you're marked by all of it. Every enemy I have becomes yours. Every prophecy with my name caught in its teeth? Yours too."

"It's already hurting me," I whispered. "And I don't even know what I'm paying for."

He went very still. Remus stirred, dissatisfied. "We could protect her," the wolf murmured through clenched teeth. "If you'd stop running from what we are."

"You don't know the cost," Trenton snapped under his breath.

I turned my head just enough that my cheek brushed his shirt. "What prophecy?"

His chest rose on a slow inhale. "Not tonight, Nahiry."

"Then when?" My voice cracked. I hated how it sounded—exhausted, frayed, a little broken. "You tell me I'm yours. You tell me I'm bonded to you. You tell me I could die because of it. And then you say 'not tonight' when I ask why."

His hand moved up, fingers threading gently into my curls. The touch was careful, reverent in a way he probably didn't even mean to show.

"When you're not shaking in my bed from a heat you shouldn't even be able to feel," he said eventually. "When you can hear what I have to say without your body screaming over the top of it."

"So... what? I just... lie here and pretend I'm not—"

I cut myself off, heat flaring in my cheeks. He heard the rest anyway.

"I know exactly what you are," he said quietly. "And I am not taking advantage of that. You're not thinking clearly. I'm barely thinking clearly. If I touch you the way we both want right now, there's no going back. You wake up mine, and that's it. Game over. Future decided. And while I am selfish, Nahiry—I am many things—I won't steal your choice like that. Not when you don't understand the weight of it yet."

Tears pricked my eyes, sudden and stinging. "You're already in my bones," I whispered. "Feels a little late to talk about choice."

He exhaled like the words gutted him. His arm tightened around me, pinning me against him, like if he held on hard enough, he could keep everything else at bay.

"Sleep," he said hoarsely. "Just sleep. Let me give you that much. I can hold you through this. I can make sure you don't burn."

The wolf hummed under his skin, reluctantly appeased—for now.

I let my eyes close. The ache didn't disappear, but it dulled at the edges, wrapped in the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back. Surrounded by his scent, in his bed, with his arm banded around me like a promise and a curse, my body finally began to unwind.