Chapter Eighty-Three – The Morning After
The morning light poured through the bedroom window in golden streaks, warming the tangled sheets and the bodies wrapped in them. Rowan stirred first, the familiar weight of Giselle pressed into his chest, her breathing soft and even.
His arms instinctively tightened around her.
She was here.
His mate.
His.
The chaos of the night before, the betrayal, the ceremony, the fight to regain control of his own mind—it all felt distant now. Blurred by the overwhelming sense of peace that came from having her in his arms.
Rowan buried his face in her hair and breathed her in. That intoxicating mix of wild forest and something uniquely her wrapped around his senses and settled the restless edge in him.
Giselle shifted slightly, her lashes fluttering against his skin. “You’re staring.”
“I’ve earned the right to,” he murmured, his voice still thick from sleep. “You’re my mate.”
A small smile tugged at her lips as she blinked up at him, her fingers trailing lightly over the mark she’d given him. “It’s real now.”
“It’s always been real,” he said, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “But now it’s permanent.”
She nodded slowly, her expression turning more serious. “What happens now? After everything with the Elders, with Rhea... with the pack?”
Rowan sighed and leaned back slightly so he could meet her eyes. “We move forward. Together.”
She watched him, her wolf just beneath the surface of her gaze. “Will they accept me? Really?”
“They already are,” he said firmly. “You saw it last night—how they looked at you, how they spoke to you. They needed to see what I already knew. That you're strong. That you're loyal. That you're ours.”
Giselle let out a shaky breath and nodded, pressing her forehead to his chest. “And Elder Malric?”
“We’ll investigate his claims. Thoroughly. But I won’t let him come between us again. No one will.”
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep. “With me. As mine.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Not now. Not ever.”
Rowan smiled against her skin and pulled her closer, burying himself in the warmth and safety of her presence. He could have stayed there forever.
But then, softly—almost hesitantly—Giselle spoke again.
“Rowan... can I ask you something?”
He hummed his response.
“Rhea... Do you remember everything now? What she did?”
The name hit him like a punch to the gut.
His entire body stiffened.
Giselle immediately lifted her head, eyes searching his face, concern flashing across her expression. “Rowan—”
“I’m not angry at you,” he cut in quickly, voice tight, jaw clenched. “Don’t think that. But that name—” He sat up slightly, running a hand through his tousled hair, anger flickering in his eyes like a stormcloud ready to burst. “That name makes my blood boil.”
Giselle sat up with him, silent.
“I trusted her,” he muttered, voice low and bitter. “I brought her into every decision, I defended her to the Elders, to my warriors—even to myself. I thought she was loyal. I thought she gave a damn about the pack.”
He let out a shaky breath, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the blanket.
“She stood next to me. Touched me. Told me she was with me—while she was helping tear everything down behind my back.”
He looked at Giselle then, pain carved deep into his expression. “I was so close to marking her, Giselle. So close. And all that time, she knew. She knew I had a mate. That I had you. And she didn’t care.”
Giselle reached out and placed a hand on his, grounding him. “But you didn’t. You didn’t mark her. You found your way back to me.”
“I almost didn’t,” he whispered. “And that’s what I can’t forgive myself for.”
She squeezed his hand gently. “Then forgive yourself now, Rowan. Because I already have.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then pulled her into his arms again, holding her tightly against his chest. “She’ll never come near you again,” he swore into her hair. “No one will. Not while I breathe.”
Rowan’s anger softened beneath Giselle’s gentle touch, her warmth wrapping around his heart like a balm. He looked down at her, her eyes steady and full of quiet understanding, and something in his chest gave way.
Without a word, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was soft—reverent.
Giselle sighed into it, her hands curling into his chest as he pulled her closer. The kiss deepened slowly, not with urgency, but with purpose. Each movement, each breath shared between them, was a promise.
“You saved me,” Rowan whispered as he broke away just enough to rest his forehead against hers. “Even when I didn’t know who I was… part of me still found its way to you.”
“I didn’t do it alone,” she murmured, cupping his cheek. “You fought to come back. That was all you.”
There was a long pause before she whispered, “Have they found any trace of Rhea?”
A shadow passed over his face. “She is gone. But we’ll find her. And whoever else is working with her. I don’t care how long it takes.”
Silence settled between them again, not uncomfortable, just full of unspoken promises. The bond between them hummed beneath the surface, alive and steady, no longer fraying at the edges.
“I never thought I’d have this,” Giselle said quietly, fingers splayed across his chest. “I didn’t think I’d be allowed to have you.”
Rowan cupped her chin and tilted her face up. “You were made for me. And no one will ever take that from us again.”
She smiled—soft and sleepy and full of love—and leaned up to kiss him.
And in that moment, with the morning sun casting its glow over them and the future finally, truly beginning, Rowan knew one thing for certain: This was only the beginning.
He kissed her again, this time longer—his arms wrapping around her waist, holding her to him as if anchoring himself to the one thing in his life that made sense.
Giselle melted into him, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.
Whatever came next, whatever threats still lingered, they would face it together.
For now, all that mattered was this.
Them.
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