Chapter 64: The Confession Over Pasta
The pasta was good, but Aurora barely tasted it. Each forkful was ash in her mouth. The warm, garlic-scented air of the restaurant, the low murmur of other diners, the soft brush of Rhys’s leg against hers under the small table—it all blurred into a buzzing, distant hum.Her heart was a trapped bird slamming against her ribs. She watched him, his focus on his meal, the capable ease of his hands as he spun spaghetti onto his fork.He looked solid.Unshakeable. She felt like a glass figurine about to topple.He’d ordered a glass of red wine. She watched the dark liquid swirl as he lifted it, his eyes meeting hers over the rim. “You’re quiet,” he said, setting the glass down.“Nervous still?”
It was now. It had to be now.The words surged up, a dam breaking. They came out too loud, cutting over the soft music.“My heat is coming.”
Rhys froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. He lowered it slowly. She couldn’t stop. The plan, the gentle lead-in, all of it evaporated. “And I don’t… I don’t just want you to help me through it.” Her voice trembled but didn’t drop. She forced herself to hold his gaze, those dark, unreadable alpha eyes. “I want your bite. I want to bond with you. Permanently. If.... if you want that, too.”
The silence that followed was absolute. The clink of cutlery from another table sounded like a gunshot. Rhys’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture did.It was like every muscle tightened at once, a coil wound to its limit. He reached for his wine glass, almost mechanically, and took a large swallow.He choked.
It was a rough, grating cough that bent him forward for a second. He set the glass down with a sharp click, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were watering slightly, but they never left hers.When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Jesus, Aurora.”
Her face was on fire. She knew she was red, could feel the heat blazing across her cheeks and down her neck.She wanted to fold into herself, to disappear under the table. But she stayed still, waiting.
He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, the candle flame between them guttering in the shift of air. The flickering light carved shadows into the sharp planes of his face.“You understand what you’re asking for.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, heavy and thick.“That’s not just a weekend. That’s forever.That’s… everything.”
“I know.” The words were a whisper.
“Do you?” His gaze was relentless, probing.“A bond isn’t something you undo. It’s in the biology.It’s in the blood.You’d be tied to me. Your instincts would scream for me.My instincts would own you.It’s more than marriage. It’s deeper.” He paused, his jaw working. “You’ve never even been with an alpha. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“I know I want you.” The simplicity of it gave her a strange strength.“I built a nest with your things. It smells like you.It feels safe because it’s you. My body… it already knows.It’s choosing you.” She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. “You can say no. It's okay if you’re not ready, or if you don’t feel the same. I’ll… I’ll figure something else out.”
The thought was a physical pain, a slice behind her sternum.“No.”
Her head snapped up.
“No,” he repeated, the word flat and final. “You won’t ‘figure something else out.’ No other alpha will help you through your heat, and you sure as shit aren't going through it alone.” He pushed his plate aside, the scrape of ceramic on wood harsh in the quiet corner. He ran a hand over his mouth, the tattoos on his forearm shifting.He looked… unsettled. Ravaged, almost.“You asked me if I felt the same,” he said, his voice low, grinding. “I’ve been trying not to feel it.I told myself this was just… comfort. A release.Something easy.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Nothing about you is easy, Aurora.You’re this quiet little storm. You walked out in that dress and looked at me with those big eyes and all I could think was mine. It’s a primal, fucking annoying thought. I didn’t want it.”
He reached across the table, not for her hand, but to slide his fingers under her palm, lifting it. He turned her hand over, exposing her wrist.His thumb pressed lightly against the frantic pulse there.
“I lied,” he murmured, studying the delicate skin.“I want it.Your bite.Your bond. I want you to be mine permanently. More than I’ve wanted anything in a long, long time.” He finally looked up, and the raw hunger in his eyes stole her breath. “The idea of another alpha smelling you in heat, touching you, even thinking about you…” He shook his head, the possessive rumble in his chest almost a growl. “Not happening.”
Relief poured through her, so potent it made her dizzy. The world snapped back into sharp, vibrant focus—the deep red of the velvet booth, the golden glow of the candle, the stark intensity of his face.
“So…” she breathed.
“So.” He gently released her wrist, his fingers trailing down to entwine with hers.The contact was electric, a direct current straight to her core. “Your heat’s this weekend?”
She nodded.“Probably Friday. The symptoms are… starting.”
“Okay.” He took a deep breath, the Alpha figuring out a plan.A mechanic assessing a job. “The shop’s closed Saturday.I’ll clear my weekend.I’ll come to your place Friday night. We’ll ride it out together. In your nest.” He said the last part deliberately, his eyes darkening.“That’s where you want it, right? Where you feel safest?”
The thought of him there, in that tangled fortress of scent and softness, was almost too much. She could only nod again.
“Good.” His thumb stroked her palm in a slow, mesmerizing rhythm.“And, Aurora?We don’t have to do the bite the first moment. We can wait. Until it feels right for you.”
His consideration, his control amidst the ferocity of his want, made her ache.“I know,” she whispered. “But… I think I’ll want it. When it’s happening, with you… I think I’ll need it.”
A sharp inhale from him.His grip on her hand tightened almost imperceptibly. “Then you’ll have it.” He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles that was more a brand than a caress. “Are you finished?”
She hadn’t eaten half her meal, but she was finished with everything except him. “Yes.”
He signaled for the check, paying quickly without glancing at the total.The normalcy of the gesture felt surreal. They stood, and he helped her with her sweater, his hands lingering on her shoulders for a beat too long. As they walked out, his arm settled around her waist, pulling her firmly into his side. It wasn’t a suggestion.It was a statement.The cool night air hit her heated skin. The weekend stretched before them, a chasm of unknown intensity. But his hand was on her hip, his scent wrapped around her, and his promise hung in the air between them, solid as a vow. She was scared.She was ready. He led her to the truck, and she didn’t look back.