~ ROSELLE ~

I wake to the morning light seeping through the curtains, slowly, stretching under the heavy duvet, and for the first time in what feels like forever, my chest doesn’t feel like it’s being crushed. The usual nagging weight, and constant anxiety clawing at my ribs—it’s gone. There’s only a deep, lingering ache... but it feels like relief. Like something heavy has finally been lifted off my chest.

I turn my head toward the couch, expecting to see Ronan’s large frame still sprawled there under the blanket. But the couch is perfectly made. There’s no sign of duvet, rumpled cushions, or any sign he ever slept there at all.

Heat floods my cheeks instantly. Last night rushes back, the way he looked at me in the shower, the raw hunger in his eyes. How I’d scurried away like a startled rabbit, heart hammering, body traitorously warm. And that shriek... the sound that had actually torn from my throat. I wasn’t supposed to be able to do that yet.

I press my face into the pillow for a second, mortified and secretly thrilled.

Therapist appointment at nine.

The reminder hits me and I sit up. She’s been such a huge help these past weeks—patient, gentle, never pushing too hard. I want my voice back. I need it. And the very first name I want to speak, the very first word I want to give sound to, is his.

Ronan.

I mouth it silently, practicing like I’ve always done over the week. Ro... Ro... The sound builds in my throat, but it stalls again. I can only get to "Ro—" before it frays and dies. I can’t push past the "nan." It’s so frustrating. My fists clench in the sheets.

My therapist keeps telling me not to force it. "It will come when your body feels safe enough," she says. I know she’s right. But lying here in his bed, wearing his shirt, surrounded by his scent... I want to say his name more than anything.

I want to look him in the eyes and whisper "Ronan" while he’s touching me.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine and a fresh wave of heat between my thighs. I squeeze my legs together, trying to ignore the ache.

Where is he?

Almost as if he could hear my thoughts, the bathroom door swings open.

Ronan steps out with nothing but a low-slung white towel wrapped around his waist. My breath catches hard in my throat.

Moon goddess...

Water still clings to him like he just stepped out of a dream. Droplets trail slowly down the hard planes of his chest, sliding over the defined ridges of his abs before disappearing beneath the towel.

His body is pure power—broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist, every muscle carved like a Greek god who decided to walk among mortals. The V-lines at his hips are sharp and deep, pointing like an arrow straight to the impressive bulge barely hidden by the thin towel.

His skin is golden-tan, still slightly damp and gleaming, and the faint shifter tattoos that mark his pack lineage curve over one shoulder and down his left arm, making him look even more dangerous.

His dark hair is wet and tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead. When he runs a hand through it, the movement makes his biceps flex and his abs tighten in a way that has heat pooling low in my belly.

Ronan’s eyes find mine instantly, and that slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips—the one I’ve come to know always makes my knees weak.

"Morning, Rosie," he says, voice still husky from sleep. He doesn’t bother covering up. If anything, he stands a little taller, letting me look my fill. "Sleep well?"

I nod quickly, unable to form words even if my voice would cooperate right now. My gaze keeps drifting back to the water sliding down his chest, to the way the towel clings to his powerful thighs. Heat floods my face... and other places.

He chuckles softly. "You need to get up and eat, little mate. I already made breakfast." My eyes widen in surprise. He made it himself? "I’m skipping it today, there are a few things I need to handle with the pack. I’ll call Celeste to come keep you company while I’m gone." He pauses, eyes softening. "Don’t forget your therapist appointment at nine. I’ll try to be back before you finish."

He crosses the room in a few strides, still only in that towel, and leans down to press a warm kiss to my forehead. The scent of his soap and clean skin wraps around me. Then, he disappears back into the bathroom to dress. A few minutes later he emerges in dark pants and a fitted black shirt that does nothing to hide how powerful he is. He gives me one last heated look, promises to see me soon, and leaves.

I sit there for a moment, heart fluttering, before forcing myself out of bed.

The table near the window has been set with breakfast—fresh fruit, warm toast, scrambled eggs with herbs, and a steaming cup of tea. It smells amazing. I settle down to eat, still a little dazed that Ronan cooked this for me.

Not long after, there’s a gentle knock. Celeste walking in with a bright smile.

"Good morning, Luna," she greets warmly, dipping her head slightly. Then her eyes land on the breakfast spread and she lets out a soft laugh of disbelief. "I still can’t believe it. The entire pack kitchen is in awe right now. Our Alpha, the Alpha, walked in there himself this morning, no staff, no orders, just... making breakfast for you. They’re all whispering about it. He really is changing. I’ve never seen him like this before."

"You should see how the warriors look at him now," Celeste continues, her voice filled with wonder. "There’s respect there, yes, but there’s also... fondness. They’re saying he’s become more human. Less like the cold, untouchable Alpha of Death and more like... more like a man who actually cares about something."

"Eat, My Lady. You have your appointment with Dr. Morrison at nine, and she’s very excited to see your progress

Her words make something warm bloom in my chest. I smile shyly and sign a quick Thank you for coming. Celeste waves it off and keeps me company while I finish eating, chatting lightly about pack gossip and how much lighter the atmosphere feels lately.

I eat slowly, savoring every bite. The eggs are perfectly seasoned, the bacon is crispy without being burnt, the toast is warm and buttery. It’s clear Ronan put thought and care into preparing this meal. The realization makes something warm bloom in my chest.

After breakfast, I shower and dress in a soft lavender dress that Celeste brought for me. She braids my hair carefully.

"You’re going to do wonderfully today," she says softly as we prepare to leave. "I can feel it."