Page 66 of To Carve A Wolf

He stared down at me, his expression faltering for just a moment. Eyes softening as those words hit him—until his rage flared again, fiercer this time, drowning out any hint of sympathy.

“Great fucking plan,” he growled. “But wouldn’t it have been simpler to just jump off a damned cliff since you were headed into the mountains anyway? Why bother stealing from me—silver candlesticks, coins—to pay the witch if your end goal was oblivion?”

I flinched but didn’t look away. He leaned closer, anger making the lines of his face harsh in the faint morning light.

“And what about Dain?” he demanded. “You took that boy in, promised him a future. You became a mother to him, Lexa. What kind of mother abandons her child for the sweet comfort of dark magic eating her from the inside out? You gave him hope that he wasn’t alone, and then tore it away without so much as a backward glance.”

I swallowed hard, shame coiling in my chest.

“He’s just a child,” Andros continued, voice dropping lower, thick with barely-contained fury. “You chose to keep him, raise him, protect him. Was that a lie too? Or did you simply not care what your disappearance would do to him? That boy trusts you. He loves you. He needs you. And yet you’d willingly leave him alone, abandoned, again?”

“Stop it,” I hissed weakly, tears stinging my eyes.

“No,” he snapped, pinning me with his gaze, relentless. “Iwon’t stop. Because you don’t get to pretend you’re the victim here. You don’t get to play martyr when your actions drag everyone else down with you. Do you even know what it was like, those nights you were locked away in my room?”

I froze, barely breathing.

His voice changed then—softer, quieter. And somehow that terrified me even more.

“The boy couldn’t sleep without you,” Andros said softly, his voice rough. “He cried. For hours. Nothing soothed him. Not Garrick, not the maids. Not stories, not songs. Nothing. Eventually, I had to step in. I took him to my own bed, let him curl up next to me because he was so terrified you’d vanished for good. Every damned night he asked me when you’d come back. And every damned night, I lied and said soon.”

My throat tightened painfully. I had no idea. Dain had never mentioned it, never spoken of those nights. But the image of Andros—dark, ruthless Andros—letting a child burrow against his side, whispering comfort, keeping away the monsters that haunted Dain’s dreams… it cut deep.

“When I found you gone yesterday, you know the first thing he asked?” Andros’s eyes burned into mine, furious but wounded. “He asked me what he did wrong to make you leave again.”

A sob choked out of me, ragged and broken.

“So run all you like,” Andros said bitterly. “Hate me as much as you want. But I will never let you fall into that darkness again. I’ll chain you to my bed, carve my name into your fucking bones if I have to—but you will not drag that child down with you. Do you understand me?”

His words burned, seared into my very marrow. And for the first time, when I looked up at Andros, I saw something more than just a monster. I saw the man who’d held Dain close in the darkness. A man capable of tenderness, of care.

“I didn’t know,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

“No,” Andros said quietly, his anger softening to something raw and aching. “Because you never cared enough to ask.”

His words struck something buried deep inside me, something hidden beneath years of denial and pain. The image of him—this cold, ruthless Alpha—holding Dain close, guarding him through the night, murmuring reassurances to a frightened child…it shifted something in my chest, unlocked a door I'd kept sealed shut for far too long.

Warmth spread through me, deep and primal, overriding logic, overriding sense. My wolf stirred fiercely beneath the surface—not angry, but possessive, protective.Heremotions bled into mine, tangling together until I couldn’t tell them apart.

Before I realized what I was doing, I reached for him. It wasn't gentle—it was desperate, instinctual. I pulled him closer, burying my face in his neck, breathing in the scent of cedar and snow that had haunted me for weeks.

And then, I bit down.

Hard.

My teeth broke his skin, copper-rich blood flooding my tongue. Andros jerked, a sharp hiss of pain vibrating through him. But he didn’t push me away. He held perfectly still, his muscles tense beneath my fingers.

Slowly, I pulled back, breathing hard. My mind raced, panic setting in—what had I just done?

But Andros’s eyes weren’t angry. They burned bright with triumph and possessiveness as he reached up, gently wiping a drop of his blood from my lower lip.

“You marked me,” he murmured softly, eyes locked onto mine, voice thick with emotion and triumph. “Do you even understand what that means, Lexa?”

I shook my head numbly, heart racing. “I—I don’t—”

“It means you chose me back,” he said quietly, his gazesoftening with something deeper, more raw. “You just claimed me as your mate, Lexa. That bite isn't just a wound—it’s a bond, sealed by blood. It means you accept me as yours, just as I accepted you.”

A strange sort of relief, mixed with terror and confusion, flooded me. “I—I didn’t—”

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