Chapter 86
Chapter 86
Valencia’s POV
The room was too quiet, despite the soft rustle of pages turning somewhere in the vast expanse of the library.
My heart plummeted as Márcy’s words echoed in my ears, harsh, yet true. Guilt clawed at my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I couldn’t even look at Castor anymore, let alone touch him. What kind of mother was I?
Dante stood nearby, his sharp blue eyes darting between me and Caius. I could feel his fury.
He was angry–not at me, surprisingly, but at Caius for not getting the full picture. It wasn’t Caius‘ fault. None of this was. All
of this was on me.
Marcy reached over and squeezed my hand, her warmth grounding me for just a second before the heavy wave of guilt came crashing down again. I looked at her, her brown eyes filled with worry, and then at the massive shelves of books that lined the library walls.
Everything around me seemed distant, almost like a dream–except for the dull ache in my chest.
I sniffled, fighting back the urge to cry again. What good would it do? I’d already cried so much, and it hadn’t solved anything. My hands trembled as I reached toward Castor, who sat innocently on the table in his glowing egg. But as my fingers hovered over him, I stopped. I couldn’t bring myself to touch him.
What if Dante hadn’t brought me back?
The question gnawed at me, sending a shiver down my spine. What if this man, the one I’d feared and fought, hadn’t put in so much effort to bring me, someone as foolish as I was, back here? Castor might have… no, I couldn’t even think about that.
“Don’t.”
Dante’s voice broke through my spiral of thoughts. I looked up to see him standing over me, his broad frame towering but/ not menacing. His hand reached out, grabbing mine before I could pull it away completely. His touch was warm, grounding
“I don’t care what anyone or what the books say,” he said, his tone firm yet gentle. “You don’t have a selfish bone in your body, and I refuse to believe you’d do anything to harm Castor.”
I wanted to believe him, but the weight of my guilt was crushing. A bitter, wry smile pulled at my lips. “Haven’t I already?” My voice cracked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I took him away from you, risking everything–our connection, his survival. Even when I ran away, I was in no condition to take care of him. I could barely keep my eyes open half the day. I-”
“You did what you thought was best for him,” Dante cut in, his voice steady and unyielding.
I shook my head, my throat tightening. “No, I did what I thought was best for me,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Even after what I overheard, I knew you wouldn’t harm Castor. But I was terrified you’d separate us, and so I-”
Caius interrupted softly, his deep voice filled with sincerity. “I apologize. That was entirely my fault. As for you not wanting to be separated from your child–that’s natural. Don’t blame yourself for wanting to protect him or be with him.”
“Exactly,” Marcy added, her voice tinged with frustration. “What mother would willingly want to be apart from her child?”
Their words were meant to comfort me, but they only deepened the ache in my chest. I wanted to believe them. I wanted! forgive myself. But all I could do was sit there, frozen, as the enormity of my actions sank in. I had nearly killed my own
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Chapter 86
child out of fear.
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Caius cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him. “As for why you’ve been sleeping so much,” he began, his tone thoughtful, “I have a theory. Dragon But I think there’s more to it. The
eggs don’t eat; they absorb energy from the sup dragons that turned out to be duds? I believe their failure might have been tied to the father giving up their mate–the egg’s mother. Maybe…” He paused, glancing at Dante, then back at me “Maybe the reason you’re so drained is because Castor is still feeding from you through your connection.”
My eyes widened at his words. Relief and sorrow tangled together in my chest. Castor still needed me. Even now, he was relying on me. The thought made my heart ache, but it also gave me a strange sense of purpose.
Dante, however, didn’t seem as relieved. “Let’s not jump to conclusions without all the facts,” he said, his tone clipped. He turned to me, his gaze softening as it met mine. “I hope this clears up some of the misunderstandings.”
I nodded slowly, but my heart was too heavy to let me feel any real relief. How could I face him after everything? After what
I’d done?
And then Dante spoke again, his words cutting through the fragile peace that had settled over the room. “Miss Voss,” he said, addressing Marcy. “Please take care of my wife for the next couple of days.”
Marcy frowned, and I reached out, grabbing Dante’s hand before he could leave. “Where are you going?” asked, panic rising in my chest.
He froze, his blue eyes darkening as they locked onto mine. His hand felt… hot. Burning, almost. My brow furrowed in concern. “Do you have a fever?”
I stood, placing my free hand against his forehead. His skin was scorching, but as our eyes met, I realized what was happening. He wasn’t burning up because he was sick. My heart skipped a beat as I felt the flood of desire through our connection and understanding dawned. He was… aroused.
“Already?” Caius said, frowning as he stepped closer. “Isn’t it too early for you?”
Dante’s lips twitched into a faint, almost self–deprecating smile. “I don’t think you want to know,” he muttered.
His gaze flicked back to me, and the intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. My cheeks burned as I remembered–I was still in heat. Suppressors or not, the pheromones were there, and Dante was feeling every bit of them.
Marcy rolled her eyes, her expression turning to one of pure disgust as she looked away. “Gross.”
“How long?” I asked hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dante shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “This one feels… different. Ever since the whole dragon thing, it’s harder to predict.”
Caius perked up suddenly, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. “Right! I read about that. Apparently, dragons during their ruts tend to-”
“Oh my God, no,” Marcy cut in, throwing her hands up. “I do not want to hear about my best friend’s sex life.”
“Yeah, let’s not,” Dante agreed, running a hand through his hair. “I should get going.”
He turned and walked toward the door, his steps quick and purposeful. I watched him leave, my chest tightening with each step he took away from me.
Marcy’s voice cut through my thoughts like a knife. “If you’re going to act like a kicked puppy, then just go after him,” she
said, her tone sharp but not imkind: “Why sit here and look like that?”
I stared at the door, my heart pounding. Maybe she was right.
Maybe I should go.
