Caspian carried Mirabelle into his bedroom, his strides purposeful and his grip firm yet careful.
He placed her gently on the large, plush bed, her body instinctively curling into a fetal position as a faint moan escaped her lips.
She shifted slightly, her brows furrowed as if she were caught between sleep and discomfort. His red eyes softened momentarily, watching her settle into the massive bed that dwarfed her small frame.
Moments later, after Caspian had changed into more comfortable clothing, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. A housemaid entered, her head bowed respectfully.
"Alpha Prince Caspian, the doctor has arrived," she informed him.
"Bring him in," Caspian replied curtly, waving her off.
Dr. Harlow entered the room soon after, his medical bag in hand. The older man was accustomed to the unique ailments of werewolves and their mates, and he wasted no time getting to work.
Caspian stood back, watching intently as the doctor examined Mirabelle with practiced efficiency.
"She's stable," Dr. Harlow assured him after a thorough check. "The aphrodisiac is leaving her system, but her body is exhausted. I've given her an IV drip to rehydrate her and counteract the effects. She'll need rest, but she'll be fine by morning."
Caspian nodded, his jaw tight with lingering anger. "Thank you, Doctor. You may go."
The doctor packed his things and exited, leaving Caspian alone with Mirabelle once again. He moved closer to the bed, his eyes tracing the delicate curve of her face.
The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated her features—soft, innocent, and wholly mesmerizing.
Without thinking, he bent down, his heightened senses drawing him closer. He inhaled deeply, her scent washing over him like a soothing balm.
It was intoxicating, a unique blend that was entirely hers. His wolf stirred, purring contentedly in his chest.
For years, he'd watched his brothers talk about finding happiness, one by one, while he had waited, having the new tradition to mate with humans he was unsure if his mate even existed.
Now, here she was, lying in his bed, so small and vulnerable, yet the one destined for him.
A faint smile curved his lips as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "My mate," he murmured, the words tasting foreign yet perfect.
The loneliness that had clung to him for so long began to dissolve. He wouldn't have to endure the cold emptiness of his world anymore.
Now, he had her. And he would protect her fiercely—against her family, against the world, against anything that dared to come between them.
———
Mirabelle jolted awake in the dim light of the bedroom, her heart pounding in her chest. The unfamiliar room loomed around her, and a sharp sting in her arm brought her attention to the IV line attached to her wrist.
Panic seized her, and without thinking, she yanked it out, wincing as blood welled up from the wound.
Tears filled her eyes as she clutched her arm, trembling and confused.
The sound of her muffled sobs reached Caspian in the living room. He was on his feet in an instant, his enhanced senses guiding him to her.
Throwing open the bedroom door, he found her curled on the bed, clutching her bleeding arm, her body racked with sobs.
"Stop!" Caspian barked, rushing to her side. "Stop hurting yourself. Look at me."
Mirabelle froze at the sound of his voice, her wide, tear-filled eyes darting to him. "Caspian?" she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes, it's me," he said firmly, brushing the hair away from her face with a surprisingly gentle hand.
His crimson eyes softened as he scanned her pale, tear-streaked face. "I'm here. You're safe. Please, relax."
"Where am I?" she asked shakily, her voice laced with fear.
"You're at the Howlcrest estate," he replied calmly, but the words sent her into another spiral of panic.
Her eyes widened in shock. "Why am I with you?!" she demanded, trying to move away from him but wincing at the pain in her arm.
Caspian sighed, his frustration evident but directed inward. He didn't blame her for being scared.
Gently, he reached for her injured arm, inspecting it with care. "You're here because you needed help. Your family left you vulnerable to harm. I couldn't leave you there."
Mirabelle shook her head vehemently, tears spilling down her cheeks. "This can't be happening. I don't belong here. My aunt… my uncle… they'll come for me—"
"They won't," Caspian interrupted, his voice sharp but not unkind. "They forfeited any right to you the moment they put you in danger. You're mine now, Mirabelle."
Her breath hitched at his words. "Yours? I'm not some possession—"
"No, you're not," he said firmly, his gaze locking with hers. "You're my mate."
Mirabelle froze, her mind reeling.
She wanted to argue, to deny it, but the intensity in his eyes, the raw sincerity in his voice, made it impossible. The room felt suffocating, her panic surging anew.
"I don't understand," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"You don't have to understand everything right now," Caspian said softly. "Just know that I'll take care of you. You're safe with me, Mirabelle. Always."
She wanted to believe him, but the world she'd known was crumbling beneath her, replaced by something she couldn't yet comprehend.
For now, all she could do was cling to the fragile hope that his words were true.
"So… what's happening with my cousin? The search?" Mirabelle asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her gaze flicked to Caspian, searching for any indication of what the future held for her family.
Caspian shook his head, his crimson eyes softening as they locked onto hers. "There is no search. I found my mate. I found you, Bunny."
Mirabelle blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. "You… you pick me?" she mumbled, more to herself than to him.
"Yes," Caspian said with unyielding certainty. "I pick you."
Her mind spun. The words felt heavy, almost surreal, and she could hardly process what they meant. "My family will be angry," she murmured, her voice tinged with both fear and guilt.
"They'll be punished," Caspian replied coldly, his jaw tightening. There was no room for negotiation in his tone.
"I'm sorry," Mirabelle whispered, her trembling fingers brushing against his arm.
Her touch was icy, sending a ripple of awareness through him, raising the hairs on his skin.
"Don't apologize for their schemes," Caspian said firmly. His voice was sharp but not directed at her. "None of this is your fault."
"I'm apologizing so you'll forgive them," Mirabelle admitted, her eyes filling with unshed tears. She knew her family was undeserving of his mercy, but they were still her blood.
Caspian exhaled heavily, his gaze softening slightly as he cupped her face gently. "Go to sleep, Bunny. The doctor said you need to rest."
Her eyes widened slightly at his words. "The doctor?" she echoed, realizing the care he had shown her.
Had he called a doctor for her? Her chest tightened with conflicting emotions.
Meeting his intense gaze, Mirabelle felt heat rising through her body.
The room suddenly felt suffocating, her skin sticky and hot. She started to fumble with the buttons of her shirt, desperate to cool down.
Caspian's eyes darkened as he watched her fingers move. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his body stiffening instinctively.
What is she doing?
"Mirabelle," he said cautiously, his voice low and strained, "what are you—"
"I feel… so hot," she mumbled, her brows furrowing as if she were trying to make sense of her own actions. "I can't breathe properly."
Caspian stood abruptly, his hands moving to still her trembling fingers. "Stop," he commanded gently but firmly, his voice filled with a mix of concern and something more primal. "You're feverish. You don't need to do this."
She blinked up at him, her expression hazy. "I… I feel strange."
Caspian leaned closer, his breath fanning over her face as he steadied her hands. "It's the aftermath of what they did to you," he explained. "Your body's still reacting. Just rest. I'll stay with you."
Though his words were calm, his thoughts were anything but. His mate was unwell, vulnerable, and unintentionally tempting him with every innocent movement.
He exhaled deeply, focusing on maintaining control. She needed him to be her protector now, not her mate.
Carefully, Caspian helped her settle back into bed, pulling the covers over her. "Sleep, Bunny," he murmured softly, brushing her hair away from her damp forehead. "I'll be right here."
And as she drifted back into uneasy slumber, he stayed true to his word, watching over her through the night like the vigilant protector she didn't yet know she had.