Chapter Four

Dera's POV

The bed was softer than anything I’d slept on in years, but I couldn’t relax. My chest still felt tight, the memory of the sculpture shattering looping in my mind like a bad dream. I stared at the ceiling, trying to focus on my breathing, yet the past wouldn’t loosen its grip on me.

Eric had been so gentle as he came close to me, carrying me gently and telling me it was okay, I didn't have to worry over a sculpture I'd destroyed. His calm voice and steady hands had guided me back to myself when I thought I might break down and weep.

It had been a long time since someone treated me like that without demands, without a silent threat behind every word.

When he carried me here into my room, I thought he’d just leave right away. But he hadn’t. His hesitation as he turned toward the door had made me hold my breath. Then, he’d looked back, his eyes warm in a way I didn’t understand, and before I could even ask what he was thinking, he leaned down and kissed my cheek.

The touch was light and it left a strange feeling behind, like warmth and confusion mixed together. I stayed frozen, unsure of what it meant, not sure if it had meant anything at all. Then he left, and the sound of the door closing behind him broke the spell.

I ran my fingers over my cheek where his lips had been. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stir something I’d buried long ago. Or maybe I could say… something I had tried to bury and then went on to pretend it was buried.

I’d felt this way before. It was a long time ago, back when Amara and I were just teenagers. I’d come to visit her during the summer, and we’d spent our days exploring the pack lands, sneaking out to the river, and talking about everything under the sun.

Eric had been kind even then, though I’d only seen him in passing. He was always busy, but whenever he was around, he’d smile at us, ask if we were comfortable, or offer us something to eat. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but there was something about the way he spoke, like I mattered, even though I was just his daughter’s friend.

I remembered one afternoon vividly. Amara had gone to the kitchen to grab snacks, and I’d stayed behind in their living room. Eric had come in, carrying a stack of books. He set them down on the table and paused when he saw me.

“Dera, right?” he’d said, though he already knew my name.

I’d nodded, suddenly shy for no reason I could explain.

“It's good to see how you two adore each other and genuinely enjoy your friendship with each other,” he'd said.

I’d mumbled a thank you, my cheeks burning, and he’d walked away. But the moment stayed with me. It wasn’t much, but it was the first time I realized that I liked him—not as Amara’s dad, not as a leader, but as a person.

Of course, I’d buried it. He was older, a widower, and completely out of reach. It was a silly, childish crush, and I’d told myself it didn’t mean anything.

But now, years later, that same feeling was creeping back in, no matter how much I tried to push it away. His kindness tonight reminded me of why I’d felt that way in the first place. It was easy to like someone who treated you like you were worth something, especially when you weren’t used to it.

“I'm drawn to him. This can't be just a force of ordinary attraction,” I mumbled to myself.

I sighed and sat up, running a hand through my hair. It was ridiculous to think about him like this now. He was still Amara’s dad, still out of reach, and I had no business letting my thoughts wander like this.

But even as I told myself that, I couldn’t help but feel grateful. He’d been so gentle, so understanding. I’d thank him tomorrow, I decided. It was the least I could do.

I was just about to lie back down when the door opened. Startled, I looked up to see Amara walking in, her usual energy filling the room.

“There you are,” she said, smiling as she plopped down on the bed beside me. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Learned you wandered off in the halls looking at things. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, hoping my face didn’t give anything away.

She tilted her head, studying me. “You sure? You seem to have been pretty shaken up earlier.”

“I’m fine now,” I insisted, forcing a smile. “Your dad helped me.”

Amara’s expression softened. “He’s good at that, isn’t he? Always knows what to say to make things better.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to say more.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, patting my hand. “I was worried for a second there.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

Amara leaned back on the bed, stretching out like she owned the place. This was her home and she could enjoy every bit of the space here like anyone who belonged here. It was something I never knew at home or even when I got married off. I was always to stay within the walls of my room unless I was needed outside of it.

I didn't fully know the home of grown up in because I wasn't allowed to wander around the pack house, discovering things and places that were out of my reach.

“You know, you’re going to love it here. I just want to say it again. This is your home now, Dera. No more worrying, no more fear. Just us.”

Her words should have been comforting, but they only made me feel more out of place. This wasn’t my home. It was hers, her family’s. I was just a guest, trying to figure out where I fit in. And now, my growing attraction for her dad was going to make my days here very long.

But I didn’t say that. Instead, I smiled and nodded, letting her know that she'd done me a great favour bringing me to her home.