“She stays with me,” he stated, leaving no room for argument.
He lifted her from the medical bed with infinite care, one arm supporting her shoulders while the other cradled her legs. Shestirred slightly at the movement, her brown eyes fluttering open to meet his.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice still hoarse from smoke but stronger than before.
“My chambers,” he replied simply. “You’ll be more comfortable there.”
She didn’t argue, simply settled against his chest with a trust that made his throat tighten. The corridors passed in a blur as he carried her through the palace, his steps measured and sure despite the precious cargo in his arms.
His private chambers welcomed them with warmth and familiar scents—leather, sandalwood, and the faint trace of his own musk that marked the space as his territory. He laid her carefully on his massive bed, adjusting pillows to protect her ankle and ensure her burned arm was properly supported.
“The medical gown,” he said gently, noting how the rough fabric seemed to irritate her sensitive skin. “Would you prefer I remove it?”
She nodded faintly, and he helped her out of the institutional garment with slow, respectful movements. His hands were steady and clinical as he eased the fabric away from her injuries, but his tiger stirred at the sight of her bare skin, the mate bond thrumming with possessive warmth. He quickly covered her with his silk sheets, the deep blue fabric a stark contrast to her pale complexion.
“I can sleep on the couch,” he offered, gesturing toward the sitting area adjacent to his bedroom. “I don’t want to crowd you while you’re healing.”
Faith surprised him by catching his wrist with her uninjured hand. “Stay,” she whispered. “Please.”
The simple request stirred something deep in his chest—not triumph, but quiet relief. He undressed methodically, aware of her gaze tracking his movements, and slipped beneath the sheetswith care. When he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, she sighed contentedly and curled against his chest.
As she drifted toward sleep again, Kovrak lay awake in the darkness, confronting truths he’d spent years avoiding. None of the women from his past had ever unsettled him like this, had ever challenged him to grow beyond the rigid confines of tradition. Faith made him want to be more than just a ruler—she made him want to be worthy of her love, and worthy of the future they could build together.
The realization settled in his chest like a brand. If she chose Earth over Nova Aurora, he would follow her. If she rejected the crown, he would relinquish it without hesitation. He would show her through actions that together they were stronger than destiny itself, and that he would do whatever it takes to keep her safe in his arms.
FIFTEEN
FAITH
Three days had passed since the fire transformed the town square into a battlefield of smoke and flame, and now Faith found herself curled against the plush velvet of Kovrak’s sitting room couch, her legs tucked beneath her as morning light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows like liquid gold. The breakfast spread before them on the low coffee table—delicate pastries, exotic fruits that shimmered with their own inner light, and steaming cups of something that tasted like cinnamon and starlight—seemed almost surreal after the chaos that had nearly claimed her life.
Her right arm bore the fading pink sheen of healing skin where fire had kissed her, the angry blisters now reduced to tender new flesh that pulled slightly when she moved. Her ankle, wrapped in soft bandages that Kovrak had insisted on changing himself each morning, felt steady beneath her weight again. But it wasn’t her physical recovery that occupied her thoughts—it was the man beside her, his powerful frame relaxed yet alert as he watched her with those pale ice-blue eyes that seemed to catalog every breath, every movement, and every flicker of expression across her face.
He had not left her side. Not once.
Faith had expected dominance from an Alpha prince, expected him to give orders and delegate her care to servants while he attended to his royal duties and festival obligations. Instead, she had discovered something that undid her completely: tenderness wrapped in strength. His hands adjusting her pillows with infinite care. His voice, low and soothing, as he checked her injuries each morning and evening. The way he insisted on helping her bathe, his touch clinical yet reverent as he washed her hair and rinsed the soap from her skin as though she were something sacred rather than simply wounded.
“You’re staring,” he murmured, his voice carrying that hint of amusement that made her pulse quicken.
“You’re worth staring at,” she replied, surprising herself with the boldness. Three days of his unwavering attention had stripped away her usual guardedness, leaving something raw and honest in its place.
His mouth curved in that devastating smile that made her forget how to breathe properly. “Careful, Faith. Compliments like that might go to my head.”
“You can handle it.” She reached for a piece of fruit that looked like a cross between a peach and a star. “Besides, I’m just returning the favor. You’ve been watching me like I might disappear if you blink.”
Something shifted in his expression—vulnerability flickering beneath the controlled exterior. “You nearly did disappear,” he said quietly.
The words hung between them, heavy with emotion he rarely allowed himself to express. Faith set down the fruit and turned to face him fully, her heart clenching at the raw honesty in his voice.
“But I didn’t,” she said firmly. “I’m here. I’m healing. And I’m not going anywhere.”
The last words carried more weight than she’d intended, and she watched understanding dawn in his eyes. During these quiet days of recovery, she had filled pages in her recipe notebook with new dessert concepts, sketching flavor pairings inspired by Nova Aurora’s exotic spices and otherworldly fruits. But more than that, she had sketched out the shape of a future that no longer felt like sacrifice—it felt like expansion.
“The final day feast,” she said, changing the subject before she lost her nerve entirely. “I want to create something special. Something that represents...” She hesitated, searching for the right words.
“What?” His voice carried gentle command, the tone of a man accustomed to getting answers.
“Union,” she said finally. “Fire and sweetness braided together. Something that tastes like us.”