HIS MATE, MY DOOM

Chapter 4: “Do you love me, Debria.”

I pressed deeper into the shadow of the bookcase, my breath caged in my lungs, my heart thundering like war drums in my chest. The cold floor beneath me bit into my skin, and the dust-laced air choked my throat, but I didn’t dare move. Not with their boots growing louder. Closer.

“She’s supposed to be in charge of this place, isn’t she?” Alpha Marcus’s voice sliced through the silence, low and irritated. “Then why does it reek like something died in here?”

I held my breath.

The Beta’s footsteps shifted closer. “Could be a rat nest,” he grunted. “Or maybe she hasn’t cleaned in days. Useless little thing.”

My nails dug into my palms as I held my breath.

They were talking about me, like always. Like I was filth beneath their boots. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But if I twitched so much, they’d find me.

Then—knock, knock.

The sound reverberated like a divine interruption.

“Alpha,” came Gerald’s voice from the hallway, breathless, urgent. “The border’s under attack. Most of our men are unaccounted for.

Silence. Then a hiss of anger from Marcus. “Perfect timing. Mobilize the rest. Till Damien and I come up with a better plan.”

Their footsteps receded, boots thudding against the wooden floors as they moved away, and only then did I dare to breathe again.

I slumped forward, my arms trembling. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wouldn’t cry for them. Not tonight.

Soap. That’s all it was. Or rather, the lack of it. The very thing I used to cry about—the humiliation of being denied something so basic—had just saved my life.

A bitter smile curved my lips. “Should I start thanking them for starving me of soap?” I whispered to the dark. “Maybe they’ve done me a favor.”

Most nights, I broke into Alyssa’s bathroom just to scavenge what I could—bits of rose water left in her tub, a few lingering drops clinging to the porcelain. I’d scoop them up in trembling palms and scrub myself like a starving animal. Sometimes, I’d sprinkle it over my hair, trying to mask the knots and filth. That was all I had. Rose water and shame.

“Alpha,” I heard Gerald’s voice fade, “we’ve lost too many. If this keeps up—”

“Proceed with my order”

I waited until their voices were swallowed by distance, then darted from my hiding spot like a hunted rabbit. My eyes scanned the courtyard, desperate. Warriors moved in a panic, heading toward the border. But my gaze searched for only one face.

I didn’t even realize I was whispering his name.

“Lucian…”

He wasn’t there.

A cold wave of dread slammed into me. He always lingered at this hour, meditating at that ancient tree or—goddess help me—bathing in the hot river under moonlight.

I wasn’t proud of the memories I kept. His silhouette in the moonlit river, muscles gilded in steam. The way the water caressed his skin. I always looked away before it was too much… But I remembered everything.

I bolted from the courtyard, the night air slicing across my cheeks. The grass whispered beneath my bare feet, damp and cool, each blade tickling and stinging as I ran. Crickets chirped with strange urgency, as if trying to warn me. The breeze carried the earthy scent of damp bark and old leaves, thick with tension, heavy with something I couldn’t name.

The moon was half-hidden behind clouds, casting eerie shadows between trees. My feet moved from grass to cracked stone to moss, instinct carrying me toward the border I’d slipped through too many times before.

I slip past the distracted guards with practiced ease. The place looked undisturbed. Peaceful. Too peaceful.

Was I wrong?

I didn’t stop. My fear pushed me forward. Through brambles. Over twisted roots. Toward the tree where Lucian always sat, legs crossed, his head tilted to the stars like they whispered truths only he could hear.

Empty.

I tried the hot spring next.

Nothing.

“Lucian!” I called, the name ripping from my throat. “Lucian, where are you?!”

“Lucian!” I called again, breathless. “Lucian, please!”

My voice cracked. My chest tightened. Fear coiled in my belly like a snake.

“Lucian, where—”

“So….it’s been you all along?

I froze.

That voice… smooth and sharp, like a blade coated in silk.

I turned, my throat dry.

“Lucian,” I breathed, tears springing to my eyes. “Thank the Moon. I thought—”

He stepped from the shadows, arms crossed. His eyes glinted with unreadable emotion

“You followed me?” His voice was cold, flat. “Again?”

“I thought you were in danger. There was an attack—people are missing—I had to make sure—”

“Danger?” He raised a brow. “You came running into the dark for me?”

I nodded. “You didn’t show up at the courtyard. I got scared. I thought…”

“You thought I needed saving?” He stepped closer, and my breath hitched.

“I thought something might’ve happened. That’s all.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “Since when do you get to care about me?”

“I always have.” I swallowed hard. “Ever since we were kids. You—You were the only one who didn’t treat me like dirt. Even after… even after the executions.”

Silence.

Then—

“Do you love me, Dabria?”

The air seemed to vanish from around us. The world narrowed to his voice. His eyes.

The world stopped.

I couldn’t breathe.

I swallowed. “I love you.”

The words were fragile. Real. They hurt coming out like I was peeling open my chest and showing him the wound.

I reached for him. His hand flinched back like my touch burned him.

And that hurt more.

“Kill that feeling,” he said coldly. “It’ll only make your life worse.”

“But—Lucian, please. Don’t push me away like the rest of them.”

“I’m not pushing,” he said. “I’m saving what’s left of you.”

“You’re lying,” I whispered. “You feel something too. I know you do.”

“Dabria,” his tone hardened. “You look pathetic when you cry.”

Tears spilled anyway.

His face hardened. “In two days, I’ll be bonded to Alyssa. She’s powerful. Regal. Everything I’m expected to want.”

“But she’s not your mate,” I said, a little hope clawing through my voice.

“No. But she is status. Grace. Beauty. Everything I need. Everything you're not.”

The words knocked the air from my chest.

I tried again, “Lucian, you can’t mean that—”

“This—” he gestured to me, to us, to the air between—“was never going to happen. And this should be the last time we speak.”

He turned and paused.

“You look disgusting when you cry,” he muttered. “You could use a real bath.”

And then he was gone.

Gone, like my breath, like my strength, like every foolish dream I dared to keep.

I dropped to my knees. The sob tore out of me like a scream. It didn’t matter who heard. I didn’t care. My tears soaked into the ground. I felt like I was sinking into it, swallowed by a grief too old, too deep.

Later, at the river’s edge, I undressed slowly. My hands trembled. The cold wrapped around me like punishment as I stepped into the dark water.

The river didn’t cleanse my pain, only my skin.

My hair floated around me, golden now, the filth finally gone. But I didn’t feel lighter. I felt stripped.

I surfaced, eyes stinging. The water had washed away the dirt, but not the shame. Not hurt.

I turned to reach for my clothes.

They were gone.

Panic clawed at my throat.

“I left them right there,” I whispered. “No… no, no—”

A rustle.

I spun.

A man crouched at the riverbank. Muscled. Tall. He was washing his hands.

I froze.

“Who… who are you?” My voice trembled.

He lifted his face, but shadows cloaked everything but one thing—

That eye—forest green, like moss soaked in rain—glowed through the darkness, catching mine like a snare. The rest of his face was shadowed, but I could feel his gaze pierce me, as sharp as the claws that haunted my nightmares.

“Washing off blood,” he said, voice deep, calm, careless—as if blood was no more than dirt to be rinsed from skin.

The crimson swirled in the river beside him,

“Are you… are you hurt?” I asked.

“The blood isn’t mine,” he replied.

My stomach twisted.

“Will I be next?” I whispered.

He looked at me like he was weighing the idea.

“I can make it faster.”

“My clothes—where are they?!”

He stood and held them up like trash between two fingers.

“You mean these… rags?”

He took a step forward.

Then another.

His body blocked the moonlight. His shadow stretched across the river like a storm.

I stepped back, my bare skin burning with cold and fear.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone, little lamb,” he said.

Another step.

“And you really shouldn’t have stolen a bath.”

And I had nowhere to run.