CHAPTER 368: UNANSWERED QUESTIONS

Nicholas~

I lingered in the grand hall, rooted to the spot as if the polished stone beneath my boots had turned to ice. The scent of breakfast still haunted the air—fresh coffee, warm bread, a trace of honey—like the ghost of a memory too soft to hold but too real to forget. Morning sunlight streamed through the towering windows in molten-gold shafts, scattering dust motes that floated lazily, glowing like embers suspended in a slow-burning fire.

My fingers were still locked around Winter’s hand. Her skin was cool, steady in a way that felt practiced, but under that steadiness was something taut and trembling. It wasn’t just her touch—it was the way she stood, the way her shoulders stayed squared, braced as though she was carrying the weight of her own unspoken storm.

"I... I can’t. Not yet. There’s something I need to tell you first."

Her voice was a whisper lost inside the cathedral vastness of the hall, but to me it landed like an iron weight on my chest. My heartbeat staggered, then raced, the invisible tether between us drawing tighter until it almost hurt to breathe. This wasn’t just the pull of fate or the ache of desire anymore. This was heavier. This was shadowed with a kind of dread I didn’t dare name.

I searched her face, tracing the sharp sweep of her cheekbones, the trembling corners of her lips, and finally—those mercurial eyes. Eyes that could flicker between dream and nightmare in the same heartbeat, depending on how she turned them. And in that moment, a crack appeared. The mask slipped. Vulnerability spilled through, raw and startling—like a wound she had tried to keep hidden.

Why was she always so guarded? Even last night, when she curled against me and held on as if I were the only thing keeping her afloat. Even when she defied her brother so we could have a sliver of privacy. Every glance, every movement, every word—on guard. As if she was always expecting something bad to happen and was rehearsing her defense before it arrived.

That fleeting glimpse of her—unguarded, fragile—shook me to my core.

"Winter," I murmured, my voice dipping low, softer now, coaxing. I stepped closer until our breaths mingled, the heat of mine brushing her cool skin. "Whatever it is... tell me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. We’re mates—nothing changes that."

She swallowed hard, her blonde hair falling like a curtain over her face as she averted her gaze. Her hand trembled in mine, and when she spoke, her voice was shaky, barely a whisper. "Nick... Vincent and I... we’re wolfless werewolves." The words tumbled out, raw and broken, and then the tears came—silent at first, then spilling over in quiet sobs that wracked her slender frame. She pressed a hand to her mouth, as if trying to hold back the flood, her cold, exterior crumbling right before my eyes.

I froze, shock slamming into me like a rogue wave. Wolfless? In our world, that was a curse, a mark that invited scorn and isolation. I knew the stories all too well—how the werewolf packs had once treated the wolfless like outcasts, denying them rights, mates, even basic dignity. My uncle Zane and aunt Natalie had changed that, enacting laws to protect them, granting equal rights and punishing discrimination. But laws didn’t erase hatred; it just drove it underground, festering in secret whispers and sidelong glares. Dad had told me once, late at night when I was younger, about how Aunt Natalie herself had been wolfless for years. She’d suffered horrors at the hands of her pack—abuse, rejection, near-death experiences that forged her into the Celestial Princess she became. If Winter and Vincent had endured even a fraction of that... gods, the thought twisted my gut. No wonder Vincent was so protective, so calculating. No wonder Winter hid her longing for peace behind that enigmatic wall.

"Winter," I breathed, pulling her into my arms without a second thought. She melted against me, her sobs muffled into my chest, her fingers clutching my shirt like a lifeline. I held her tightly, my strength wrapping around her like a shield, inhaling the faint scent of night jasmine that clung to her skin. "Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through, but listen to me—you’re not alone anymore. I promise, on everything I am, I’ll never let any harm come to you. Not from anyone. You’re safe with me."

She pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face lifting to mine, eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope. "But Nick... people hate us for it. They see us as weak, broken. What if—"

"No," I cut in firmly, cupping her face in my hands, thumbs brushing away her tears. "You’re not weak. You’re a late bloomer, just like Aunt Natalie. She was wolfless too, suffered more than anyone should, but her wolf came eventually—and look at her now, queen of it all. One day, yours and Vincent’s wolves will emerge. I know it. Until then, I’ll protect you. Forever. You’re my mate, Winter. My other half. Nothing changes that."

Her lips trembled into a small, watery smile, and she nodded, leaning into my touch. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice steadier now. "I... I believe you."

We stood like that for a moment, the tension easing into something warmer, more intimate. But the pull of the bond urged us onward—I still wanted that run, to feel the wild freedom with her and also get to know her more. Grinning to shake off the heaviness, I stepped back. "Alright, then. How about this? I’ll shift, and you can ride on my back. Leo—my wolf—he’s dying to meet you properly."

Her eyes widened, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Ride on your... oh. But you’d have to—"

"Strip? Yeah." I winked, my cocky side surfacing as I peeled off my shirt, revealing the toned muscles from years of training. Her gaze darted away, then back, flustered and shy, her cheeks turning a deeper pink. It was adorable, this enigmatic girl reduced to blushing at the sight of me. I kicked off my boots, then my pants, handing the bundle to her with a playful smirk. "Hold these for me?"

She took them, clutching them to her chest like a shield, her eyes sneaking peeks despite herself. "Nick! This is... you’re so..."

"Handsome? Irresistible?" I teased, flexing just a bit to make her laugh. Pride swelled in me—she found me attractive, that much was clear from the way her breath hitched. It made me feel invincible. With a final grin, I shifted, bones reshaping in a fluid rush, fur sprouting as I dropped to all fours. Leo emerged, a massive gray wolf with dark eyes mirroring my own, his tail wagging furiously. He— I—nudged her leg gently, whining in invitation.

Winter hesitated, then giggled softly, stroking my fur. "Okay, Leo. Let’s do this." She climbed on carefully, one hand gripping my mane, while the other still held on to my clothes; and I felt her weight settle like it belonged there. Leo yipped happily—gods, he loved her already, this mate of ours, her presence soothing the beast within.

We took off into the woods, the trees blurring as I bounded through the underbrush, wind whipping past us. Winter’s laughter rang out, loud and genuine, echoing through the leaves like music. In the very short time I’ve spent with her, I’d not once seen her like this—happy, free, her usual cold veneer shattered. It lit something in me, a fierce joy that made my paws fly faster. "Faster, Nick—Leo!" she called, her voice thrilled. "This is amazing!"

We ran until exhaustion tugged at us, and I slowed by a massive oak tree, its roots twisting like ancient guardians. Panting, I shifted back, rising naked and unashamed. Winter averted her eyes again, thrusting my clothes at me with a shy mumble. "Here. Put these on before... before I die of embarrassment."

I laughed, deep and genuine, pulling on my pants first. "Get used to it, Winter. Shifters strip all the time. Besides, I’m yours and only yours. No one else gets this view." I winked, slipping into my shirt, loving how she peeked through her fingers, a smile tugging at her lips.

Once dressed, I pulled her into my arms, settling against the tree trunk. She nestled against me, her head on my chest, our breaths syncing in the quiet woods. The moment felt perfect—too perfect to waste. "Tell me about you," I said softly, stroking her hair. "Where did you grow up? What was it like?"

She tensed slightly, then relaxed with a sigh. "Oh, you know... places. Forests, mostly. Nothing special."

I frowned but pressed on. "Experiences? Any adventures, or tough times besides... you know?"

"Just the usual," she murmured evasively. "Surviving."

"Favorites?" I tried, keeping my tone light. "Food, colors, dreams?"

She paused for a bit. "Dark things. Night skies. Chocolate, maybe."

"And dislikes?" I asked, curiosity sharpening.

"Questions," she quipped with a weak laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Then, yawning dramatically, she shifted. "Nick, I’m tired. That run... it wore me out." Before I could respond, she curled up, head pillowing on my lap, her breathing evening out into soft, rhythmic sighs as sleep claimed her.

I stared down at her, confusion swirling. Why dodge everything? The warning Dad had given echoed relentlessly: They’re not who they claim to be. Reject the bond. Before it’s too late. Was this evasion proof? Or just the scars of a hard life? I sat there for an hour, lost in thought, my fingers absently stroking her silky hair, listening to her gentle breaths. The woods whispered around us, birds calling, leaves rustling—but peace eluded me.

Then, a noise shattered the quiet—muffled voices in the distance, hushed and urgent. Careful not to wake her, I gently lifted Winter’s head from my lap, laying it on the soft grass with my balled-up shirt as a pillow. She murmured in her sleep, stirring slightly, but settled as I whispered, "Shh, just checking something. Stay here."

I crept toward the sound, vampire speed making me silent as a shadow. Peering through the trees, my blood ran cold. There was Andrew—Katrina’s brother, the prince himself—huddled with Calvin, one of the royal enforcers, their voices low but clear to my enhanced senses.

"Keep an eye on them," Andrew was saying, his tone grave. "Vincent and Winter. Mom and Dad are suspicious—something about their story doesn’t add up. Report anything off directly to me."

Calvin nodded, his expression stern. "Understood, Your Highness. Discreetly, of course."

My heart sank, plummeting like a stone into icy depths. Suspicious? From the king and queen themselves? If Zane and Natalie sensed danger too... gods, what had I gotten into?