Page 44 of Seas the Day
She opened her mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes—a possessive, protective fury tempered by that undeniable, bone-deep love—stole her words. This wasn’t Jeremy’s impatient frustration. This was a vow.
The healer turned to Thalric, listing instructions—herbal infusions to reduce inflammation, gentle mobility exercises to begin tomorrow, monitoring for any lingering dizziness. “I can have an attendant sent to?—”
“No,” Thalric said, the single syllable final. “I will see to her care.”
“Thalric, you have a territory to defend,” Navira protested weakly.
He leaned over her, blocking out the rest of the room. His face was inches from hers, his stormy eyes blazing. “My first priority is you. My mate. You took a killing blow meant for me. You think for one second I will delegate your recovery? You will rest. You will heal. And I will be the one to ensure it.”
The healer, wisely, finished her instructions and slipped from the room.
THIRTY
NAVIRA
Navira stared up at him, the last of her resistance melting under the heat of his declaration.
He would do whatever it took for her. Because he cared. Because he loved her.
She finally believed it.
Three days came and went. A lifetime of forced stillness to Navira. The stone-hewn sanctuary of Thalric’s chambers had begun to feel like the most exquisite, gilded cage.
When she woke on the fourth morning, the dawn light painting the room in soft pearl and rose, the ghost of the eel’s electric touch had finally withdrawn its icy fingers from her nervous system. She sat up, the silk sheets pooling at her waist, and stretched her arms over her head. No lingering tremor and no stubborn heaviness in her limbs. The muscles in her back and shoulder answered her command with their familiar, fluid grace.
She was herself again.
In the bed beside her, Thalric turned and watched her with those storm-grey eyes that missed nothing. The sheet covered him to his waist, revealing the powerful, carved landscape of his chest and abdomen. His gaze tracked the path of her arms, the arch of her spine, and she felt the mate bond hum between them.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice a rough, sleep-softened rumble that did funny things to her insides.
She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “It is.”
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, the cool stone floor a shock against her soles. Today. Today she would get dressed. Today she would go to the training facility. The restless energy she’d kept banked for seventy-two hours threatened to break its dam.
She didn’t even take a full step before his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist with a gentle, inescapable firmness. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Where I should have been three days ago.” She turned to face him, her nakedness no longer a point of shyness but a statement. “Look at me, Thalric. I’m fine. I need to get back to the pack.”
He sat up fully, the sheets falling away. The morning light loved his body, gilding the ridges of muscle, and shadowing the dips and valleys. His expression, however, was pure, unyielding Alpha.
“You need one more day.”
“I need todosomething.” The frustration she’d swallowed for days finally spilled over. “You’ve been updating me, but I need tosee. Are they drilling the evasion techniques I showed them? Are they building endurance in short bursts, or are they just thrashing around? I know Sylar’s competent, but it’s not the same.”
The mention of Sylar’s name brought a familiar, uneasy knot to her stomach. The memory of that night kept replaying—the too-convenient breach of the cove, the eel’s perfect, hidden ambush aimed with deadly precision at Thalric’s throat. It felt less like a random skirmish and more like a surgical strike.
“The training is going just fine. Plus, Sylar has the eastern and northern patrols locked down,” Thalric said, his thumbstroking the inside of her wrist, a distracting caress. “And Kaelen reports the enforcers are maintaining their edge. Graven’s forces have tested our borders, but they’ve been pushed back each time. It’s a stalemate, and that’s what we need until you’re at one hundred percent.”
“A stalemate someone on the inside could be orchestrating,” she murmured.
His hand stilled on her wrist. “What are you implying?”
Navira took a breath. She’d danced around this for days. “That night. How did they get past the patrols? How did Draxen know exactly where to hide, exactly when to strike at you? It felt… coordinated. And Sylar… at the training, before the attack, he was… resentful. He made comments. About you being unfit. About you being blinded.”
Thalric’s jaw tightened. The air in the room grew dense, charged with his displeasure. “Sylar Tsdeken has served this pack for thirty years. He served my father. He helped raise me. His loyalty is not in question. His pride was bruised, and he vented. That is all.” He released her wrist, but the piercing intensity of his focus held her in place. “You are looking for shadows because you feel helpless. I understand that. But I will not have you sowing doubt about a man who has bled for this territory longer than you have been alive.”
The rebuke was calm, absolute, and it stung. It was the polished Alpha speaking, the strategist who valued historical loyalty over gut instinct. Navira felt the old, defensive walls start to rise.
