Our kiss wasn’t earth-shattering. There was no toe-curling passion or dizzying intensity. It was something simpler, something soft-a kiss filled with hope, comfort, and the kind of security that felt like home. It was a kiss that carried the weight of risks we both knew existed, promising inevitable heartbreak, yet tinged with a fragile beauty.
The week after the Festival was the best I’d had since losing Mom. My connection with Carlo wasn’t defined by tension or unspoken desires; it was different-much like what Mom had with Beta Tommaso. I had given Carlo a part of my heart, and I knew he would carry that piece wherever life led us. In return, he grounded me, helping me face the grief I had kept buried for so long.
He didn’t stay away when I woke drenched in sweat, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. Carlo would hold me in the early hours, whispering reassurances without ever asking about the nightmares that haunted me. He knew, and yet he never pried. And somehow, through his gentle care, he became my shield from the darkness. The pain was still there, like a dull ache that never fully left, but I could think clearly again. I could breathe again.
There were no pressures between us, no expectations for more than what I could give. Carlo never asked for more than soft kisses and tender touches, never pushed past the boundaries that still held my heart captive. Though the loss of my mate left a hole, the edges were no longer raw and jagged; they had smoothed, and the sting wasn’t as sharp.
On nights when the nightmares became too much, Carlo was the one I called out for. Together, we would head to the basement, where the physical strain of training helped drive the lingering hurt from my body. But it wasn’t everything. Training no longer consumed me. I found myself surrounded by friends again, laughing and feeling lighter than I had in ages. The ache of training remained a part of me, but it was no longer the center of my world. I was stronger now-no longer the same girl who had lost everything. I was changing, becoming something more, something better.
Blue, cautious as always, was happy with the progress I had made. She had always favored Carlo, and for a long time, we both wished he were our mate. Those thoughts had long faded as I learned to live in the reality we had. One day, Carlo would find his mate, and I would have to face the hurt that would come with it. But I could bear that pain. I would endure it for him-the man who saved me from myself.
Mornings were spent training with Carlo, afternoons with Sofia and Enrico, both of whom marveled at how much I had improved. And evenings, those were for the laughter of friends-the moments where life felt lighter. One evening found us crammed into a booth at a pizza parlor, my hand intertwined with Carlo’s beneath the table. Sofia, Chiara, and Vito sat across from us, their faces alight with joy.
Chiara had repeated the beginner’s class but had made such strides that she managed to floor Federico during training today. Her bruised cheek and split lip couldn’t dull her grin, even as it cracked her healing lip open further. Meanwhile, Sofia and Enrico were arguing, as usual, each determined to take full credit for Chiara’s progress. Before long, pizza crusts started flying across the table, and we all joined in the playful food fight.
By the time we left, crumbs clung to my hair, and we all reeked of garlic and pepperoni. It wasn’t until we returned to the packhouse that the thought of a shower finally crossed my mind. The smell of pizza lingered in my hair, and though I enjoyed the scent, I preferred to eat my food, not wear it. While I showered, the others gathered in the game room. After joining them, we settled down for a movie, their choice-an action-packed assassin flick-playing on the projector.
Carlo draped a quilt over me and nestled beside me as we watched, though my mind wasn’t on the movie. His presence, the warmth of his body next to mine, was all I could focus on. He smelled of the forest, of pine and earth, a scent that had come to mean comfort and safety. His onyx hair brushed his face, and without thinking, I reached up to push it aside, smiling as he leaned into my touch.
We had never been openly affectionate, especially not in front of others, but as his hand lifted my chin, our lips met in a soft kiss. It wasn’t passionate or rushed, just a simple kiss that spoke of our quiet affection. It felt right, like something we had long been building towards.
When our lips parted, my mind drifted elsewhere. Carlo’s hand traced light circles on my thigh, and though the touch was gentle, I was acutely aware of it. There was no fiery desire burning within me, no overwhelming passion, but I couldn’t help but wonder: how far was I willing to go with Carlo?