Chapter 67 — Only Her
Rowan moved through the ballroom as if guided by a tether, his gaze locked solely on Rhea.
The gilded chandeliers, the murmured conversations swirling around him, even the fragrant haze of burning sage that usually blanketed these celebrations—all of it melted into insignificance. The heavy wooden doors had barely swung shut behind him before the crowd’s attentions dulled to a faint whisper in his periphery, as though someone had smothered the sound with a gentle hand.
Every step was deliberate.
And with every stride, Rhea became more vivid against the blurred backdrop of bodies and flickering candlelight. Her hair gleamed like spun gold under the lanterns, spilling in elegant waves over her shoulders. The white gown she wore shimmered faintly as it shifted with her breath, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal the graceful slope of her neck.
She was radiant—almost unreal—and something deep inside him responded to that pull.
Rowan felt his hands flex at his sides as an unfamiliar ache unfurled in his chest, his soul leaning toward her without hesitation.
He could feel her scent, too, distinct and clearer than anything else in the hall—a bright blend of meadow flowers and something softer, like honey in the morning sun. Every breath filled him with it, until the rest of the world was an echo and all that remained was her.
By the time he stood before her, the ballroom was utterly silent in his mind. No murmurs. No music. Even his wolf, usually restless and prowling at the edge of his thoughts, had fallen silent.
There was only her.
Rowan was hardly aware of the crowd or the Elders lurking just beyond his sight. Every thought, every fleeting worry about Giselle, every plan or suspicion was brushed aside, consumed by the sight of Rhea lifting her gaze to meet his.
Her dark eyes glimmered with a warmth that threaded into him like an unspoken promise.She held his gaze as he reached her, her hands neatly clasped in front of her and her lips parting as if to say something. Rowan felt himself leaning toward her, breath caught as though awaiting the first words of a spell.
Before she could say a thing, though, he raised a hand and brushed the back of his fingers along the softness of her cheek. The warmth of her skin sent a tingle racing up his arm, and his chest felt impossibly light.
Time felt as though it had stretched into an eternity with just one breath between them.
“You’re perfect,” the words threaded through him silently, more instinct than thought.
He was certain of it in a way that scared him—as though this was how it was always meant to be.
Every inch of him burned to touch her, to draw her into his arms and never let go.
And as Rhea held his gaze, as the rest of the world simply fell away, Rowan felt utterly and entirely hers—an unfamiliar pull that left him breathless, teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t quite name, only feel.
Nothing else mattered—not his duties, not the whispers of his pack, not even the fragile thread tying him to a distant pain.
In that moment, Rowan could see only Rhea.
And she was everything.
Rhea’s hands caught his as he hovered close, her eyes darting nervously to the watching crowd.
“Rowan,” she whispered urgently, pulling him aside to a quieter corner of the ballroom. The lantern light was softer there, the murmur of voices even more distant, and yet her gaze was sharp. “What are you doing?”
He searched her face as if seeing it for the first time—really seeing her—and felt his heart thrum with a strange certainty.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, his thumb sweeping across her knuckles. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. But it was always supposed to be you.”
Rhea’s lips parted in surprise, eyes searching his face. “Rowan…” Her voice softened, but worry tinged her words. “What about Giselle?”
For one brief moment, something tugged at him—a fleeting image like a forgotten dream. A face. A voice. But it was gone before it could fully form, and all that remained was the woman before him.
“Giselle?” he repeated blankly, brow furrowing. “I…”
Nothing else came. Nothing about her. Nothing mattered but the glowing pull that bound him to Rhea right now.
“Nothing else matters,” he murmured, gripping Rhea’s hands more tightly. “There’s only you. Only us.”
Rhea’s hands tensed in his, her brows knitting together as she studied him. “Rowan, this isn’t like you. What’s come over you? Are you sure this is what you want?”
He held her gaze without a shred of hesitation, his soul unwavering. “I’ve never been more sure. Let’s make our vows in front of the pack tonight.”
Still, she searched his face, her voice lower now. “And what if this is just the pressure of tonight? The Elders? The pack? Rowan, we don’t have to do this if your heart’s not in it.”
He stepped closer until they were almost touching, and spoke so firmly there was no room for doubt. “My heart is in this. My heart is with you. Nothing will change my mind.”
Her lips pressed together into a tense line. “You truly believe that? Truly?”
“Yes,” he breathed, holding her hands against his chest so she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart. “More than anything. Let me give you my vow, Rhea. Let me show you that it’s always been you.”
And with those words, whatever worry lingered in her expression began to soften. She held his gaze for a long moment, hands trembling slightly as they rested against him.
“Alright,” she finally whispered, almost as if she hardly dared to believe it. “If you’re sure.”
Rowan brushed a thumb gently over her cheek again, an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips as a sense of absolute certainty took hold of him.
“I am,” he murmured, the world around him utterly fading away until only she remained.
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