Chapter 5
532words
I simply closed the laptop and returned to the living room, watching him in silence.
With unconsciousness, his mask had fallen away, leaving only raw vulnerability and pain.
Looking at him this way, I couldn't summon even a spark of anger.
Whatever his secrets, whatever his plans for me, in this moment he was just a wounded creature fighting against darkness.
The next morning, Cael woke to find himself tucked under a blanket on the sofa.
I was making breakfast in the kitchen as usual, acting as if nothing had happened.
"You saw me… last night?" He sat up slowly, voice rough with pain.
I set a glass of milk and a plate of sandwiches before him, avoiding his searching gaze.
"Just a nightmare, looked like," I said lightly.
He opened his mouth to explain, then closed it again. What could he possibly say? What explanation could bridge the chasm between our kinds?
"You need proper rest," I said firmly. "Take my bed tonight. I'll sleep out here."
"That won't be necessary," he refused quietly.
I pressed further: "Who are you, really?"
Silence was his only response.
The weight of unspoken truths hung between us.
In the end, I was the one who gave in.
That night, I dragged my blankets and pillow to the floor beside his sofa, curling up like a child.
I wanted to keep watch over him, as if I could somehow protect this dangerous secret.
Cael lay above me, listening to my breathing, absorbing the simple warmth that filled my humble apartment.
For the first time in centuries, he felt safe in a place that wasn't his own—in what should have been enemy territory.
The seal's backlash brought not just physical agony but psychological torment.
In the dead of night, nightmares claimed him again.
He relived the bloody coup.
His mentor, torn apart while defending him; his family, imprisoned in lightless dungeons; himself, stripped of everything and hunted like an animal.
Despair crashed over him like a tidal wave.
"Shh… it's okay. You're safe now…"
A gentle voice and warm touch pulled him from the icy grip of memory.
He opened his eyes to find me leaning over him, concern etched across my face, my hand gently stroking his arm.
"Bad dream," I said simply.
Cael stared at me, naked vulnerability flashing across his face.
He—a vampire king—had shown weakness before a werewolf.
"You should—" he began, clearly wanting me gone.
"I used to have terrible nightmares too," I interrupted softly. "Being from a weak pack means always being the target. I'd dream about stronger wolves driving us from our home, forcing us to scatter and hide."
I hugged my knees to my chest like a child. "So I know that feeling—being terrified of losing everything but powerless to stop it."
Cael watched me in silence.
He studied me—this small, fragile creature with unexpected resilience.
I had my own burdens, yet here I was, offering what little comfort I could to someone who should be my enemy.
In that moment, we weren't vampire king and werewolf nobody.
We were just two lonely souls finding unexpected warmth in a cold world.
