Do you still think I need time?

"Why did you lie?" Theo asks the moment he pulls me into what seems like an abandoned room, pressing me back against the wall.

His movements are soft, careful even, but his voice slices through the quiet like a blade.

I barely have time to catch my breath.

"Well, I don't understand why you're being so obvious about us," I say, my voice low, my heart drumming, "when you're the one who told me that no one should know. Not yet."

His jaw clenches. "She hurt you knowingly, and I'm not going to ignore that fact. What right does she have?"

There's steel in his voice. A depth I hadn't fully realized until now. For once, it hits me how much he hasn't let go of what happened even when he pretended to.

Even when I thought he had. His anger isn't fading; it's just been waiting.

My hand moves on its own. I reach up and let my palm brush his cheek, tracing the tension carved into him. "Let it go, please. You'll only raise suspicion. I'm fine, ain't I?"

But he doesn't blink. Doesn't soften. "I don't think I want to hide this anymore," he says, his voice steadier than I expect. "Because I can't stand people treating you however they like. Not even my brother, sending you here and there like you're nothing. That you should follow her and take care of her?! No. I can't stand it, and I'm ready to say it out loud."

I blink, startled by the sudden shift in his tone, his intensity, his certainty. For some reason Punic grips me realizing that Theo would actually say it.

"You're suddenly saying this just because you're still mad at what happened," I start, my voice quieting. "Right now you're upset and it's..."

But Theo cuts through me again. He isn't listening.

"You know," he says, stepping closer, "I've been wondering, actually. What's stopping me? What's really stopping me from claiming you Infront of everyone? It's not like anyone has the right to tell me who I can love or who I can't. Who I get to spend the rest of my life with, or not."

His words hang in the air like something too heavy to hold. My heart is sprinting. This is not just anger. This is him unraveling, baring something that's been buried too long.

And I...

"I'm not ready," I say, the words escaping before I can think them through. "For all the attention. And everything."

It's true. I don't know if I can handle it, and suddenly fear has gripped me, what if people know, elders stop him, other packs look down on him for only settling for a servant?

What if he sees sense in all that and decides to leave me?

Maybe it is better if it is just a secret. I want to be with him openly. But the thought of eyes turning to me, of whispers and judgment, it coils in my chest and makes it hard to breathe.

I feel him move closer to me, his voice suddenly softening, way too soft. "Okay. It's okay, baby. I'm sorry. I just get frustrated sometimes, and I can't help it… especially when people treat you however they feel like."

His tone lingers in the space between us, not angry now, just defeated.

"It's okay," I murmur, though my voice doesn't feel steady. "I can take care of myself. No need to worry about that."

Even as I say it, guilt coils deep in my chest. I feel it press beneath my ribs, heavy and persistent.

Every time, with everything, I'm always asking him to wait. To hold back. To be patient. And every time, he nods, brushes my cheek, tells me, It's okay.

But is it really?

It's starting to unsettle me. He says it's okay… but the way his eyes linger longer these days, the way his silences stretch, the way his laugh sometimes fades too fast, I know he's not okay with it.

What if one day he decides I'm not worth it? What if I've held him back too long? What if he walks away and gives everything I'm denying him… to someone else?

The thought crashes through me like a wave. Panic tightens my throat. My breath falters.

"What's wrong?" he asks, voice still a whisper.

I don't even have the words. My thoughts feel scrambled, like pages flipped too fast in the wind.

Suddenly I feel trapped between what I want and what I'm scared of. I'm not ready for all of it, not the attention, not the whispers, not the exposure, not the judgement, not when he actually decides to leave me. Not for the very first time giving myself to someone completely.

But he's here. He's in this with his whole heart, and I keep stalling like I don't know what I want.

But I do. I love him. I know I do. I want to be with him. He's the only reason I even feel like waking up some days. If he walked away, I wouldn't know how to keep breathing.

"I want to… spend the night with you," the words slip out, sudden but certain.

His eyes widen slightly, but not with shock. It's more like surprise, maybe… hope? I don't know.

All I know is that yes, I'm ready. Even if I'm not ready for the world's eyes or their judgment or the chaos it might bring, I want to give him one thing, this one thing I've always denied us both. And it's not just for him. I want it, too.

Theo looks at me like he's trying to read every layer of that decision. He doesn't speak immediately.

Then, he chuckles.

The sound sends chills trailing down my spine. Heat flushes my cheeks, my chest. For some reason, that laugh makes me feel so embarrassed I wish I could take the words back, shove them somewhere they'll never be found.

"No," he says finally.

My stomach drops. "What?" The word slips out, brittle and confused. "No problem. Forget I said that." I shift, trying to pull away, but he stops me with a gentle grip.

"Because I know," he says, his voice quieter now, "you're doing it just for me. And I don't want that. I already told you, it's okay. You can take your time."

I don't know how or why, but those words suddenly snap something inside me.

Without hesitation, I spin us around, pressing him to the wall. My breath hitches as I rise on my toes and connect my lips into his.

The reaction is immediate.

Theo stiffens under my touch, like he hadn't seen it coming, like he's holding back something wild.

His hands shoot to my waist but don't pull me in yet, just hover, fingers flexing slightly as if he's trying to decide whether to let go or lose control.

Instinctively, I kiss him harder, my hand slipping to the back of his neck, feeling the rapid pulse under his skin.

His breath comes in short, uneven bursts against my cheek. I press in closer, and that's when I feel his entire body drawn tight like a bowstring.

His muscles twitch under my palms, and he shudders when my lips trail down to the edge of his jaw.

His eyes flutter shut, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he exhales through his nose like he's trying to calm the storm inside him.

One hand finally grips my hip, tight, possessive, but he doesn't move. Doesn't dare.

His restraint is so loud I can feel it.

The space between us vibrates with it. The tension. The want. The effort it's taking him to stay still when every part of him is screaming to move.

I pull back when I can feel him completely on the edge, just a fragile thread holding him together.

I look at him. His lips are parted, his chest rising fast beneath my hands. His pupils are blown, the gold in his eyes barely visible. The way he looks at me makes heat crawl up my spine.