Beyond the Curtain

47 | rule 90

RULE 90: DO NOT ENTER A RELATIONSHIP.

✷  C  H  A  P  T  E  R     F  O  R  T  Y  -  S  E  V  E  N  ✷

Rowan nursed his fever for days on end. There'd be stints where he'd wake up, eyes wide in alarm before his eyes quickly jammed shut as his healing abilities took over, sweeping him into oblivion. Other times, his eyes would remain closed, but his body would cry out in pain.

His body would shiver and shake like a trembling tree in the breeze. His pain would course through me, and I'd be left breathless and clammy. His pain was my pain.

I spent most of my time huddled in the corner of the den, letting Rowan absorb all the fire's warmth. My eyes would never stray from him for too long, but I had to get up every so often to replenish our wood supply. The tiny twigs and loose leaves I scavenged burned fast, and I never could quite keep a steady supply throughout the day, given Rowan's current state.

Spending too much time away from Rowan caused a great deal of anxiety. He had yet to surface from his fever-induced fog; he was vulnerable, and my wolf wouldn't let me leave him unattended for long periods.

As I piled a few sticks into my mouth, I wondered if my budding anxiety also came from the budding bond between us. While his tactics in getting me to Yukinawa had not been my favorite, I knew deep down, he had my best interest in mind.

He had put his life on pause for me. He had left his pack in the hands of his Beta—who he never failed to iterate—was capable of the task, but I worried about his long absence. Surely, an Alpha gone for months on end was not healthy for a pack. Or, at the very least, it certainly was not healthy for his position in the pack.

As his time away from Moontera grew, I wondered if his pack members would start to get used to his absence or even grow accustomed to it.

No, I told myself. I wouldn't let that happen.

With enough sticks to fill my mouth, I trotted back to the small den and replenished the fire. Rowan had not moved an inch in my absence, and his breath had begun to take on an idle wheeze like he struggled to inhale.

I shut my eyes and updated Hana like I had been doing for the past couple of days. Each day, my updates were the same: Rowan had not awoken. He hadn't gotten considerably worse, but he also had not been getting better.

Hana told me recovery was a long and winding path (granted, longer than she had initially anticipated), but I wished it would hurry.

I longed for the moment he opened his eyes. I longed for the moment he no longer struggled for oxygen, and I longed for the moment I could tell him he was mine. The bond thrummed between us, stronger than ever, and with it, every doubt I had was erased. There was only him and me—nothing else mattered at the end of the day.

And, deep down, I knew I should have come to the conclusion before I felt the effects of the bond full force. But I had been a coward. I had been a naive coward, too afraid to take hold of a good thing that stood right in front of me. But not any longer.

However, the silver lining in all of this was there were no signs of the hunters. While we had been able to reduce their numbers, many of them were able to escape without so much as a scratch. We knew they were still out there, lurking. We just didn't know when they'd strike again—or if they'd strike again. Because of this, Hana and the members of Yukinawa had to divert their path to the Oasis Den.