His Christmas Mate

Chapter 15

_Aria's POV_

Lucien reached across the table and took my hand. His fingers were warm and steady. “You will not lose yourself,” he said. “You will gain a shield. You will move through danger with less risk. I will be by your side. Jack will be there. Dylan will help train you. We will not let anything take you.”

The word monster echoed in my head and pushed against his promise. I pictured sharp teeth and long nights and the strange hunger I had felt when the wolf pressed at me. The idea that I might become like that made bile rise in my throat.

“No,” I said again, louder. My breath came fast. “I don’t want to become a werewolf. I don’t want to be something that hurts people. I don’t want this.”

The room hummed around me for a moment. Lucien did not withdraw his hand. He only watched me patiently. “I understand,” he said softly. “We will stop for now. But think of it, please. Think for your safety.”

My chest hurt. I wanted to scream, to run and hide. Instead, I pushed my plate away and stood. The light in the room felt thin.

My mind would not unclench. I wanted to trust him and I wanted to stay myself. The two wants tore at me until I didn’t know which would win.

I ran up the stairs two at a time and slammed my door closed behind me. For a moment I stood with my forehead against the wood and let my breath come out in short and harsh pushes. My heart felt like a trapped animal.

I dropped onto the bed and hugged my knees to my chest. The room was dim. Outside, the night was thick and quiet. Inside, my head was loud.

Lucien’s words kept turning in my mind. He had sounded calm and sure at the table. He had reached across and taken my hand as if he could hold my fear away. He had promised protection. He had promised training. He had told me I would not lose myself. He had said I would gain a shield.

And I had said no.

I felt guilty. I felt mean. He had helped me run away. He had given me a safe room and a warm bed and food that did not taste like service. He had stood beside me when a man had bled on the snow. He had shown me videos, bank slips and secrets I had never wanted to know. He had put himself in the center of my broken life and tried to fix parts of it.

But the thought of changing my body, of waking with teeth and fur and the strange hunger, made my stomach twist. The black wolf’s weight against my chest still lived under my skin in memory. The idea of losing the me I knew felt like stepping off a cliff.

I pressed my palms over my eyes and tried to sort the hurt from the fear. I thought about how it must be for him. He had told me he felt the bond. He had said I was his mate. Maybe he was lonely in ways I could not see. Maybe he had lived long with a void that I filled. Maybe he worried so much because someone had to hold me. I felt small and selfish for not wanting to give him the one thing he asked.

Tears came then without warning. I did not try to stop them. They burned, hot and quick, down my cheeks. I hated that I could not be braver. I hated that my first thought when someone asked for help was to run.

My phone buzzed on the desk and the sound made me flinch. I did not want to look. I did not want any more voices. I let it buzz again and again. Then the caller became persistent and the rapping tone pushed at the quiet in my head. I picked it up only because I could not stand the sound.

Unknown number.

I almost ignored it. Then it rang again, frantic. I hit accept.

“Aria, please...” the voice burst into my ear. It was Ryan. I knew the way his words tumbled when he was nervous. “Aria, listen to me. Come back home. Your parents are worried. Where are you? Please, tell me where you are.”

My jaw tightened. For a second the anger that had lived in the raw place inside me rose. He had been the one who had cheated on me. Why was he behaving as if he cared about me now?

“Stop bothering me. I am not coming back. Not after what you did. You chose her.”

“Aria, please,” he said again, and suddenly his voice broke. “If not for me, think of your parents. They are worried. Think of them, please. I… I can fix this. I’ll make it right.”

I felt a strange hit of pity. It surprised me and made my chest ache. “They don’t care about me,” I said. “They were paid to care for me. They are not worried about me. They are worried about money and keeping their job.” My tongue felt sharp when I said it. I did not want to be cruel but I had already seen the proof.

There was a long silence on the other end. Then Ryan said, “Aria, I...”

I cut him off. “I am sure of it, Ryan. I don’t want to hear it.” I pressed the end call button and the line went dead. My hands trembled.

After the call I felt empty and raw. I lay down and let sleep come slowly. My mind kept stitching cold memories together, and I woke once or twice with a dry mouth and the taste of fear in my throat.

Finally, I fell into a shallow sleep and dreamed of running through trees. In the dream the branches brushed my face like cold fingers. I dreamed of wolves that were chasing me and of teeth that glinted like silver.

Then, screams came.

I sat bolt upright and my room spun. The clock by the desk read three in the morning. The noise came from outside the mansion. There were many voices, sharp and afraid. My mouth dried. A hundred thoughts crowded me at once.

I moved to the window and peered through the curtain. The yard below sloped toward the dark line of trees. Lamps lit the path. Figures ran and moved like shadows. There were lights but there were too many for guards on a routine patrol. I could make out shapes running across the snow, and then another sound: the heavy thud of paws on the ground. Not all the sounds were human.

My throat closed. The hair rose on my arms. My mind tried to unpack what I saw. People shouting. Wolves answering. Something raw and urgent in the air. The mansion that had felt safe and steady all day shifted into a place of immediate danger.

I felt the bed shift behind me. Lucien’s door opened and his silhouette filled the gap at the threshold. He moved with a quiet speed that made my skin prickle. He did not speak just then. Instead he pulled his jacket on and crossed the room in long steps. His eyes were very clear when they found mine.

“What is it?” I asked, even though the noises answered the question.

He did not smile. He shook his head like someone waking from sleep to a nightmare. “Trouble,” he said. His voice was low and steady. “Stay here.”

I hated that I obeyed him without thinking. My feet moved toward him, not away. He took my hand for the briefest second and said, “Lock the door and do not open it for anyone.”