He didn’t care. He’d ordered variety because he didn’t know what she would eat. What her body needed. What her fragile human system could process after days of neglect.
Days. She’d been neglecting herself for days, and he hadn’t noticed.
The thought burned through him like corrupted Moon Tear energy, leaving ash and fury in its wake.
Unacceptable.
The door sealed behind him as he carried the tray back into his chambers. Morning light streamed through the narrowwindows now, painting his den in shades of amber and gold. His nest of furs looked smaller somehow with her sitting in the middle of it—this tiny human female who’d somehow become the axis around which his entire existence had begun to rotate.
She watched him approach with those winter-sky eyes, her expression guarded. Wary. The defiance hadn’t left her face entirely, but something else lurked beneath it now. Something that had surfaced when he’d called her mate and hadn’t quite retreated.
Good. Let her think about that. Let her understand what she was becoming to him, whether either of them had planned it or not.
The beast in his chest settled into something warm and steady as he moved toward the bed. She was here. She was his. The rest was details.
Now he just needed to provide.
Sylas set the tray on the low table near the fire pit, then turned back to her. She’d pulled one of the furs around her shoulders like armor, her golden hair wild around her face, her slim fingers clutching the edges of the pelt as if it might protect her from what came next.
It wouldn’t. Nothing would. He was going to feed her and care for her and ensure she never forgot another meal as long as she lived in his fortress, and she was going to accept it whether her stubborn human pride liked it or not.
“Come here.”
Her chin lifted. “I can eat at the table.”
“You can.” He settled onto the cushions near the fire pit, arranging himself with deliberate casualness. The flames cast dancing shadows across his fur, warming the perpetual chill that came with channeling too much Moon Tear energy. “You won’t.”
“Sylas—”
“Come. Here.”
The command resonated through the chamber, carrying the weight of the Alpha’s voice he rarely used on her. Her eyes widened—surprise rather than fear—and something in him ached at the distinction. She should fear him. Everyone else did.
But she rose from the nest instead, the fur sliding from her shoulders, her bare feet silent against the stone as she crossed to where he waited.
Brave little human. Foolish, stubborn, starving little human who didn’t know how to let anyone take care of her.
He would teach her.
Sylas caught her wrist before she could settle at a safe distance, pulling her down beside him. Not across from him. Beside. Close enough that her thigh pressed against his, that her scent washed over him in waves of Frosted Tears and sleep-warmth and something underneath that made his pulse quicken.
“This isn’t necessary,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
“It is.” He reached for the tray, selecting a slice of roasted meat—tender, seasoned with herbs the kitchens kept specifically for preparing human-suitable food. Ryxin’s pet had been helpful in determining what their species could digest. “Open.”
Her jaw tightened. “I can feed myself.”
“You can.” He held the meat steady, inches from her lips. Didn’t withdraw. Didn’t waver. “You won’t.”
Those blue eyes searched his face, looking for—what? Mockery? Cruelty? Some sign that this was a game designed to humiliate rather than nurture?
She wouldn’t find it. This wasn’t about control, no matter how it might appear. This was about ensuring she survived. About watching every bite enter her mouth and every swallow move down her throat, because apparently she couldn’t be trusted to manage such basic functions on her own.
This was about the beast in his chest, which had been pacing with agitation since the moment her stomach growled and wouldn’t settle until it saw her fed. Properly fed. By his hand.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she muttered.
“I’m being thorough.” He pressed the meat against her lower lip, feeling her breath catch. “Eat, Elsa. Don’t make me force it down your throat.”