To heal a Rogue

BONNIE

We made it back to his mother’s room in a silence that wasn’t quite comfortable and wasn’t quite anything else either, just tired, the kind that settled into your bones after a night that refused to end. Delta was waiting outside the door when we arrived, arms crossed, looking like she’d been standing there long enough to grow roots.

"I need you to watch over her," Lysander said, already halfway to turning it into an order rather than a request.

"Of course, Alpha Lysander."

I looked between them, some stubborn little thing rising in my chest before I’d decided whether I wanted to let it.

"It would be nice," I said, keeping my voice light, almost careless, as though the words meant nothing, "if you could stay too."

He looked at me for a beat too long.

"I have other things I should probably see to," he said, though there wasn’t much conviction behind it.

He looked at me for a beat too long.

"I have other things I should probably see to," he said, though there wasn’t much conviction behind it.

I shrugged, turning my attention back toward the room.

"Yeah, sure. I understand."

That seemed to catch him off guard more than an argument would have.

His gaze lingered on me. "You do?"

I glanced at him.

"Of course I do." I gave him a small, easy smile. "You’re the Regent. I’m sure you have more important things to do than sit here and keep me company."

There was no accusation in my voice, which somehow seemed to make him look more uncomfortable.

"I didn’t say I did not want to keep you company."

"I know."

I settled back against the pillows, deliberately making myself comfortable, as if the conversation had already ended.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he exhaled slowly.

"Actually," he said, looking toward the door as though he’d only just remembered something terribly inconvenient, "most of those things can wait."

I bit back a smile.

"Can they?"

"Yes."

He said it with enough authority to make it sound like the decision had been his from the beginning.

"Good," I murmured, closing my eyes. "Then you should probably stay."

There was a pause.

"I suppose I will."

I smiled to myself.

He really did have a remarkable talent for pretending he hadn’t just done exactly what I’d wanted.

Delta’s gaze flicked between us, something quietly knowing settling into her expression. She cleared her throat and began backing toward the door before either of us could acknowledge the obvious.

"I’ll just be down the hall," she said. "If either of you need anything."

She was gone before I could tell her that wasn’t necessary, the door clicking shut behind her with the particular quiet of someone who understood exactly what she was doing.

Lysander stared at the closed door for a moment before looking back at me. Something in his shoulders had eased.

"Hmmm," he said. "That was an interesting reaction from her, don’t you think?"

"I think she just understood that if you were here, I would be fine."

He looked at me for a moment.

"Is that what you think?"

I glanced at him, immediately regretting it when I found him already watching me.

"What else would I think?"

"Nothing."

"Good."

"Good."

The silence that followed was somehow worse than the one we’d walked back in.

I looked toward the other side of the bed, then at him.

"You should probably sit down."

"I probably should."

He settled onto the bed, and it was just like we had before, with the pillow wedged between us as a border neither of us had actually bothered enforcing the last time. I stared at the ceiling, exhaustion pulling at every part of me even though I knew sleep wasn’t an option for the remainder of tonight. Fia hadn’t arrived yet, and until she did, I was apparently condemned to remain awake and miserable about it.

"I’m so tired," I murmured, mostly to the ceiling. "All I want to do is sleep, and apparently that’s too much to ask."

"We can talk instead," he said. "If that helps you take your mind off it."

I turned my head slightly to look at him.

"About what?"

"Anything."

There was something almost too easy about the answer, and I looked away before I could think too much about why I liked it.

"You’re going to regret offering that."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

"I doubt it."

I smiled despite myself and settled deeper into the pillows.

For someone who had supposedly been considering leaving, he seemed remarkably comfortable staying.

"Okay. But I do need a push in the right direction. Like... What topic could we talk about? I do think in a lot of ways that matter, we are still strangers."

"Like I said. Anything," he said. "It doesn’t have to be important."

I turned my head to look at him. "Okay. Favorite food."

"That’s where you want to start?"

"I want to start somewhere boring," I said. "I’ve had enough excitement for three lifetimes tonight."

He considered it seriously, like I’d asked him something with actual stakes attached. "Honestly, it’s something embarrassingly simple. Meat pies. The kind street vendors sell, not the fancy court version with truffle in it that tastes like dirt pretending to be food."

"Truffle tastes like dirt pretending to be food," I repeated, delighted despite myself. "That’s such a specific hill to die on."

"I stand by it."

"Fine. My turn." I thought about it. "Bread. Any kind. I’m not picky. Just give me bread, and I’m content."

"That’s not a food preference. That sounds more to me like living on survival instinct."

"Same thing, honestly."

He laughed, low and genuine, and something in my chest loosened at the sound.

"Okay," I said. "Worst thing about being an Alpha?"

"Meetings," he said instantly, without hesitation. "Endless meetings. About taxes. Border disputes nobody actually cares about. Whether the annual harvest festival should last three or four days. I know it will be worse if I do finally become King."

"How many days do you usually land on?"

"I have genuinely no idea. I stop listening around the second hour."

I laughed. "And you still make a decision?"

"I nod very seriously and say I’d take it under advisement."

"That’s such an Alpha thing to say."

"It works nine times out of ten."

"What happens the tenth time?"

He turned his head toward me, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Someone is clever enough to realize I wasn’t listening."

"And what do you do then?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether I like them."

I raised an eyebrow. "That’s terribly convenient."

"It is."

"And if you do like them?"

His eyes stayed on mine for a second longer than necessary.

"I blame it on some midlife crisis and listen."

Something about the way he said it made the question suddenly feel less harmless than it had a moment ago.

I looked away first.

"Okay," I said, reaching for another question before he could notice the effect he’d had. "What is your favorite place to be?"

He smiled faintly.

"You’re changing the subject."

"I am absolutely not."

"You are."

"Answer the question."

He let out a quiet laugh.

"Fine. Favorite place?"

"Yes."

He thought about it for a moment.

"Honestly, anywhere I don’t have to be an Alpha."

I looked at him again.

That answer was quieter than the others.

"And where is that?"

His gaze met mine. "Wish I had an answer."

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