Claimed By Fire And Crown

Chapter 12

stayed close to the door for a moment after stepping inside, my fingers brushing the edge of the handle as I took in the room again more carefully. The warmth from the fire settled slowly into my skin, easing some of the cold I’d been carrying since I left the pack lands, but it also made the exhaustion underneath everything else harder to ignore. My body felt heavy now that I’d stopped running, every muscle tight from tension and lack of sleep, and standing there in silence with Rhaegar nearby only made me more aware of it.

He crossed the room without saying anything at first, pulling off the dark jacket he’d been wearing and tossing it over the back of a chair near the fireplace. The movement was casual, practiced, like this place was one of the few spaces where he didn’t have to think about every step he took. Firelight caught against the sharp lines of his profile as he glanced toward me again, his gaze dropping briefly to the fact I still hadn’t moved farther inside.

“You can stop looking at the door like you’re planning to run through it,” he said.

I let my hand fall away from the handle, exhaling quietly through my nose before walking farther into the room. “I’m thinking about it.”

“No,” he replied calmly. “You’re thinking about whether staying here is a mistake.”

I frowned at him immediately because the annoying part was that he was right. Instead of answering, I looked away and focused on the room again, letting my attention drift over the shelves lining one wall, the low-burning fire, and the scattered books resting on the table near the couch. Nothing about the house felt formal or carefully arranged the way Alpha homes usually did. There were no trophies, no oversized pack symbols carved into the walls, no constant reminders of status or territory.

It just looked lived in.

That unsettled me more than it should have.

Rhaegar disappeared briefly into what looked like a kitchen near the back of the room, and I heard a cabinet open before the sound of running water followed. I moved farther from the entrance while he was distracted, more aware now of how tired my legs felt as I crossed toward the fireplace. The heat rolled softly against my skin, and I crouched near it for a second, holding my hands closer without really thinking about it.

“You’re staring again,” Rhaegar said as he returned.

I glanced up to find him holding two glasses. “I’m trying to figure you out.”

He handed one to me before settling his own against the table beside him. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” I muttered, wrapping both hands around the cool glass. “You don’t make sense.”

A faint shift touched the corner of his mouth before it disappeared again. “Because I gave you water?”

“That’s part of it,” I admitted. “You don’t exactly match the terrifying stranger image very well.”

“Terrifying?”

I looked at him over the rim of the glass. “You threw someone into a wall earlier.”

“He deserved it.”

The answer came too easily, too calmly, and I shook my head as I looked away before another laugh could slip out. It was strange how quickly the sharp edge from earlier kept fading around him, only to come rushing back every time I remembered I barely knew anything about him.

The fire cracked softly beside me, drawing my attention back toward the flames. I stared at them for a second longer than necessary before taking another sip of water. The warmth in the room was starting to sink deeper now, loosening the tension in my shoulders in uneven pieces.

Rhaegar noticed.

Of course he did.

“You’re tired,” he said quietly.

I lowered the glass slowly. “That tends to happen after being hunted.”

His gaze stayed on me, steady and unreadable. “You should sleep.”

A short laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Right. Because that sounds easy.”

“It would be easier if you stopped expecting an attack every five seconds.”

I looked up sharply at that, irritation flashing briefly through the exhaustion. “Sorry if my coping skills aren’t impressive enough for you.”

“They kept you alive,” he said evenly. “That’s enough.”

The irritation faltered before it could fully settle. I looked away first, rubbing absentmindedly at my wrist again where the bruises had darkened beneath my skin. The marks were clearer now in the firelight, fingerprints standing out faintly against my skin.

Rhaegar’s attention dropped immediately.

His expression didn’t change much, but something colder settled into his posture as he looked at the bruises.

“It’s fine,” I said automatically.

His eyes lifted back to mine. “No, it isn’t.”

The quiet certainty in his voice made something tighten unexpectedly in my chest. I wasn’t used to people reacting like that—not over me, not over something as small as bruises. Most wolves in the pack would’ve told me to ignore it or stop acting weak.

Rhaegar looked genuinely irritated by it.

I didn’t know what to do with that.

Trying to shake the feeling off, I stood and wandered toward the shelves along the wall instead of staying too close to the fire. My fingers brushed lightly over the spines of several books as I scanned the faded titles.

“You really read all of these?”

“Yes.”

I pulled one free slightly, glancing at the worn cover. “History?”

“Yes.”

I looked back at him in disbelief. “You voluntarily read history.”

“It happened whether I read about it or not.”

The response caught me off guard enough that a tired laugh slipped out before I could stop it. It wasn’t loud, but it carried through the quiet room anyway, softer and more real than anything either of us had said all night.

I looked up a second later and found Rhaegar watching me.

“What?” I asked, frowning slightly.

One corner of his mouth shifted faintly. “Nothing.”

His gaze lingered for another second before he added, quieter this time, “You seem different when you forget to be guarded.”

The way he said it made the room suddenly feel smaller. I slid the book back into place a little too quickly and looked away again, annoyed by how aware I’d become of every shift in his expression, every change in his voice.

“Well,” I muttered, “you’re still strange.”

“And yet you stayed.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out immediately because he wasn’t wrong. Instead, I moved back toward the fire and lowered myself onto the edge of the couch, leaning forward slightly as I held my hands toward the warmth again.

The flames flickered softly, gold and amber twisting around the logs in slow, steady movements. I stared into them absently, my thoughts drifting for the first time all night without immediately circling back to fear.

Then the fire shifted.

I stiffened.

The flames snapped higher for half a second, curling sharply toward me before settling again. Heat rolled suddenly across my skin—not painful, just stronger, deeper, like something inside me had answered without permission.

My breath caught.

Slowly, I looked toward Rhaegar.

He was already watching me.

Not surprised.

Not confused.

Certain.

“The fire moved,” I said quietly.

Rhaegar held my gaze for a second before looking toward the flames again. “No,” he replied. “It reacted to you.”

The words settled heavily into the silence between us, and for the first time since I’d met him, I saw something dangerous shift beneath his calm expression.

Not fear.

Recognition.