The bite between us

Going to her anyways

chapter 22

Rowan pov

I tell myself I won’t go.

That this is the moment discipline matters most.

That distance is still the safest weapon I have.

Vargan does not argue.

That’s how I know I’m lying to myself.

You are already moving, he says calmly.

I don’t realize it until I’m in the car, city lights streaking past the windows, my hands steady on the wheel while everything inside me is not.

She steadied me without touching.

That truth sits heavy in my chest—dangerous, sacred, undeniable.

If she can do that from a distance, then leaving her alone with whatever she’s awakening is reckless.

I pull up outside her building just after midnight.

The wards hum in recognition. Not resisting me.

Inviting.

I don’t smile.

I move through the lobby unseen, contained, my presence folded tight around itself. When I stop outside her door, I hesitate for the first time in centuries.

Because once she opens it—

There will be no pretending this is coincidence.

I knock once.

Soft. Controlled.

The door opens a second later.

She looks smaller than she did in the boardroom.

Wrapped in an oversized sweater, hair still damp, eyes too bright like she’s been crying or fighting sleep.

And then she looks up at me.

Her breath catches.

So does mine.

The bond flares—not wild, not consuming—but right. Like something clicking into place that was never broken, only waiting.

“You’re here,” she whispers.

Not who are you.

Not why are you here.

Just—you’re here.

“I shouldn’t be,” I say quietly.

Her lips part. “I know.”

The air between us tightens, alive with unspoken things. I don’t step inside. I don’t touch her.

I don’t need to.

The moment our eyes meet fully, the last of the turbulence inside me stills.

Not suppressed.

Balanced.

I feel it happen—clean and immediate.

Vargan exhales, satisfied.

There.

Her shoulders relax like she’s been holding tension she didn’t know how to name. She presses a hand to her chest.

“You were… hurting,” she says. Not accusing. Not frightened. Just honest.

“Yes.”

“And now?”

I hold her gaze. “Now I’m not.”

Her eyes soften, something like relief washing over her face.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” she admits. “I just felt like if I didn’t think of you—if I didn’t focus on you—you’d fall apart.”

The words hit deeper than any blade.

“You don’t owe me that,” I say carefully.

She shakes her head. “It didn’t feel like obligation.”

Of course it didn’t.

That’s what terrifies me.

I step back—just one pace. Enough to prove something to myself.

The calm holds.

She watches me closely, understanding flickering behind her eyes.

“You don’t have to stay,” she says. “But… you don’t have to leave scared either.”

A human woman.

Standing in a doorway.

Giving a king permission to breathe.

I nod once. “Rest,” I say. “If anything feels wrong—anything at all—you call Kael.”

“You’re not giving me your number?” she asks softly.

A pause.

Then I answer honestly.

“If I do,” I say, “I’ll come every time.”

Her breath stutters.

I turn before restraint becomes surrender.

As I walk away, I feel her watching—not clinging, not calling.

Just… present.

And for the first time, I understand the truth I’ve been avoiding:

She doesn’t weaken me.

She doesn’t control me.

She makes it possible for me not to destroy everything in my path.

And that makes her the most dangerous thing in my world.