Chapter 7: His Bed, Not Hers
1667 Words
The furs were too warm.
Too soft.
Too wrong.
Thalia lay stiff on the edge of the massive bed, body curled in on itself like a child trying to disappear. She hadn’t moved since the guards dragged her here—half-limp, half-conscious, bones aching, skin stinging.
She didn’t dare.
Not with him in the room.
But he wasn’t.
Not yet.
The fire had died down to embers. Shadows danced on the walls like whispers she couldn’t shut out. And the scent of him—dark cedar, snow, something sharper—lingered in every corner, curling around her like chains.
She was in his bed.
And she hated herself for the way it felt safer than the floor.
Her legs trembled beneath the furs. The silk beneath her skin made her feel filthier than any dungeon wall ever had. She didn’t belong here. Not in this room. Not in this world.
And still, she stayed.
Because she knew the price of disobedience now.
The door creaked.
Her breath froze.
Footsteps.
Measured. Slow. Unbothered.
She didn’t look.
Didn’t move.
Just clenched her eyes shut and tried not to shiver as the bond coiled tighter.
Dominic entered like he owned the silence.
Because he did.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t glance at her.
Just removed his cloak, draped it over the chair, and began unfastening the metal clasps of his armor with smooth, efficient motions. One by one, each piece hit the floor with a soft thud—steel falling away to reveal something far more dangerous underneath:
Stillness.
He wasn’t gentle.
Not with his steps.
Not with his presence.
Not with her.
But he didn’t touch her, either.
Not at first.
He walked past her without a word, circled to the far side of the bed, and lay down like she wasn’t there. Like she was furniture. A shadow. A stain.
His side sank slightly beneath his weight, the mattress shifting enough to make her body tense.
Still, he said nothing.
Still, he didn’t look at her.
The silence stretched.
And stretched.
Until the only sound left was the brittle click of her teeth as she tried to stop them from chattering.
The room was warm.
But she was cold.
So cold.
The kind of cold that burrowed under skin and settled in the bones.
Her toes curled.
Her arms folded tighter around herself.
And still—
He didn’t move.
Didn’t offer a blanket.
Didn’t touch her.
He was inches away.
And might as well have been miles.
The bond burned faintly—low and constant, like a fever that refused to break. It tethered them. Reminded her, with every breath, that she couldn’t run. Couldn’t hide. Couldn’t even forget.
She closed her eyes tighter.
Curled tighter.
And whispered so softly it didn’t even leave her lips:
Please don’t hurt me tonight.
He didn’t.
But not because he cared.
He didn’t roll toward her.
Didn’t brush her skin.
Didn’t speak.
He just breathed.
Even.
Controlled.
Like she wasn’t worth noticing.
She didn’t know which hurt more—his violence, or his indifference.
Eventually, sleep dragged her under.
Not restful.
Not peaceful.
Just heavy.
Dark.
And when she woke—
It was still night.
But something had changed.
The fire was out completely now.
The room darker.
Quieter.
Dominic was gone.
His side of the bed cold.
The door slightly ajar.
A shadow moved in the hallway beyond it.
And before she could even sit up, she heard it—
A scream.
Distant.
Muffled.
But real.
And not hers.
Her heart jumped.
Her wolf stirred.
Someone was being punished.
But not her.
Not this time.
And for the first time since she’d entered Bloodfang…
She wasn’t sure if that made her safer.
Or not.
The scream tore through the night like a blade through silk—high, sharp, and full of terror.
Thalia sat up, heart pounding, pulse racing under her skin. Her eyes darted toward the open door, breath catching.
Another cry echoed faintly—this one choked. Muffled.
Then silence.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, furs sliding to the floor. Her body ached, muscles protesting, but her ears strained toward the hallway.
Someone was suffering.
And Dominic…
Was gone.
Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor as she crept closer to the open doorway. She didn’t dare step past it. Just leaned close enough to glimpse the flickering torchlight dancing on the walls beyond.
And there—down the corridor—two guards dragged a limp figure across the floor.
A man. Bloodied. Unconscious.
Maybe worse.
One of the guards muttered, “Beta tried to question her fate again. The King told him not to.”
The other spat on the floor. “Fool must’ve forgotten what happens to those who defy the Alpha’s claim.”
Thalia’s stomach twisted.
So that was it.
That scream… had come from someone who dared to speak on her behalf.
Someone who thought they could interfere.
Dominic had punished them for it.
Of course he had.
He’d warned them all.
She shut the door slowly, the heavy wood clicking back into place.
The room felt colder now.
Emptier.
She climbed back onto the bed, curling into herself beneath the furs. But they didn’t help. The warmth didn’t reach her fingers. Her toes were numb. Her lips trembled.
She tried to sleep.
Tried to quiet her thoughts.
But her body wouldn’t stop shaking.
The silence dragged on for hours—longer than she could count.
Then—
The door opened again.
Quietly.
She didn’t lift her head.
Didn’t flinch.
She knew that scent. That power. That presence.
Dominic.
He stepped into the room, footsteps soft against the stone. He didn't speak, didn’t even look her way as he shrugged off his cloak and crossed to the firepit. With a flick of his wrist and a spark of flint, flames bloomed to life again.
Then he turned toward the bed.
She felt it when he approached.
Felt it when he sat beside her.
He didn’t touch her.
Didn’t speak.
Just lay down on his side, facing away—like the warmth of the fire, or the bruises on her body, meant nothing to him.
And still, he said nothing.
Just silence again.
Heavy. Oppressive.
But sleep dragged at her bones.
Despite everything—despite him—her body began to surrender.
She didn’t mean to move.
Didn’t mean to reach for him.
But hours later, as the room grew colder and the fire burned low once more, instinct pulled her toward warmth.
She shifted under the furs, her cheek brushing the edge of his shoulder.
Then her body followed.
Unconscious.
Unthinking.
Just cold.
Just seeking heat.
She curled into him—hesitant at first, then closer. Her forehead touched his back. Her hand slid across his chest.
And she exhaled.
The shaking stopped.
Her breath slowed.
She didn’t wake.
Didn’t realize.
But Dominic did.
His eyes opened the second she touched him.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t breathe for a long moment.
He just lay there.
Staring into the shadows, her warmth pressed softly into his spine, her scent curling into his lungs.
And for the first time in weeks…
He didn’t feel alone.
But he didn’t dare reach back.
Didn’t dare hold her.
He simply closed his eyes again—
And listened to her breathing.
And listened to her breathing.
Soft.
Steady.
Too trusting.
Her warmth seeped into his back, her arm loosely draped across his waist. She didn’t stir. Didn’t seem to realize how close she’d gotten.
Then—
She moved.
Just a small shift in her sleep, a sigh brushing against his nape.
But it was enough.
Her arm slid higher. Her breast pressed gently against his back, soft and warm through the thin fabric of the tunic she wore. Her thigh brushed against his.
And Dominic went still.
Completely still.
His jaw clenched. His hand fisted beneath the furs.
Because her body—
It was fire.
He could feel the curve of her against him now. Could feel her heartbeat through her chest where it pressed into his ribs. Her scent was faint but intoxicating—clean skin, moonlight, and something uniquely hers. A softness he hadn’t earned. A comfort he didn’t deserve.
And still…
His body responded.
Heat coiled low in his spine. A growl stirred in his throat. His wolf—so often disciplined, controlled—strained against the edges of his will.
Claim her, it whispered.
Take what’s already yours.
He shut his eyes tighter.
No.
Not now.
Not like this.
She wasn’t awake. Wasn’t begging. Wasn’t broken enough to understand what it meant to lay with a king.
And he didn’t want her submission in sleep.
He wanted her eyes open.
Her voice raw.
Her soul aware of who was inside her.
Dominic exhaled slowly through his nose.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
He shifted away from her just enough to stop the contact—his back now to the fire, her warmth a breath away.
She stirred again.
A soft whimper escaped her lips, like a child sensing the absence of something they didn’t know they’d reached for.
His throat tightened.
And for the briefest, cruelest moment, he imagined what it might feel like if she pressed herself against him fully. If she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered his name not in fear, but in need.
Dangerous thoughts.
He reached for control like a blade and gripped it hard.
Then slowly… he sat up.
Left the bed.
Crossed the room to the window, where night still painted the mountains black.
Behind him, she sighed in her sleep.
Curled into the spot he left behind.
And Dominic watched her from the shadows.
Fists clenched.
Jaw set.
And desire pounding in his blood like a war drum.
Because she didn’t know it yet—
But every night she touched him in her sleep...
She inched closer to awakening the predator who would stop at nothing…
To make her his in full.
- Writer
