LYRA’S POV
The car hummed softly as it glided through the evening streets, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows.
I sat in the backseat, my fingers tracing the delicate petals of the enormous bouquet resting on my lap.
Red roses, dozens of them, arranged with such precision and care that they looked almost too perfect to be real.
Their scent filled the enclosed space, a stark contrast to the tension that had been simmering between us since the pack house.
I exchanged glances between the roses and Kael who sat beside me, his broad shoulders filling the opposite seat.
He was looking out the window, his jaw tight, his fingers drumming absently against his thigh.
He seemed almost nervous, which was such an unusual state for him that I found myself studying him more closely.
“You bought these for me?” I asked, my voice carrying a note of genuine surprise.
Kael shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, his eyes still fixed on the passing scenery.
“Yeah,” he said, the word coming out rough.
“I saw them and decided to get them.”
I blinked in confusion, my brow furrowing.
Kael was many things: annoying, commanding, infuriatingly stubborn… but spontaneous romantic gestures had never been part of his repertoire.
“So you got them for me?” I pressed.
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?” Kael asked, finally turning to look at me.
There was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, quickly masked by his usual composure.
“You don’t like them?”
Before I could respond, he reached forward, his hand extended toward the bouquet.
“I’ll have my assistant change them to something different.
Something you actually…”
“No,” I said quickly, clutching the bouquet against my chest.
The stems pressed against my collarbone, the petals brushing against my chin.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like them.
I just…
I wasn’t expecting them, that’s all.”
Kael’s hand dropped back to his side, and he settled into his seat, his expression unreadable.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncertain.
I looked down at the roses again, my mind racing.
Kael had never been one for grand gestures.
He was practical, direct, the kind of man who expressed his feelings through actions rather than words.
Flowers seemed almost out of character for him, too soft, too sentimental.
Unless…
Then it hit me.
I turned to him, my eyes narrowing.
“Is this about what happened yesterday?
At the pack house?”
I stared at him, studying his expression.
The tension in his jaw.
The way his fingers kept toying with that silver lighter.
The way he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.
“It was never my intention to talk to you like that,” he said, his voice low.
“At the pack house.
I shouldn’t have…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to.
I remembered the exchange clearly: the sharp words, the dismissive tone.
It had stung more than I wanted to admit.
I just looked at him, wondering how he’d managed to live for so many years without learning basic communication skills.
Did no one ever teach him how to apologize?
How to admit when he was wrong?
I sat back down, the bouquet still cradled in my arms.
“You know,” I said carefully, “you could just apologize when you do something wrong, right?
It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
Kael finally looked at me, his expression guarded.
“So you’re saying you don’t need flowers?”
I sighed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“Kael, that’s not what I mean.
But flowers alone can’t solve everything.
You can’t just buy your way out of being a….”
Kael went quiet, his jaw tightening.
The lighter in his hand stilled, and he stared at it as if it held the answers to questions he didn’t know how to ask.
I leaned forward, closing the distance between us.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
Kael raised a brow, genuine confusion flickering across his features.
“I’m I supposed to repeat that?”
“Try it,” I said, nodding encouragingly.
“Say ‘I’m sorry, Lyra.'”
He shook his head slowly, a bitter smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“I’ve only used those words twice in my entire life,” he admitted.
“I’m not exactly good at it.”
My eyes widened.
“When was the last time?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Kael shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor.
“When my mother passed,” he said quietly.
“That was the last time.”
I sat upright, crossing my arms.
The confession hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning.
I thought about what it must have been like for him… a young Alpha, thrust into a position of power, forced to shoulder the weight of an entire pack while mourning the loss of a loved one.
No wonder he had built walls around himself so high that even the people closest to him couldn’t see over them.
The thought softened something inside me, and I felt the last of my frustration begin to fade.
“I know I should have said this at Moonveil,” I said gently.
“But I’m sorry for your loss, Kael.
I truly am.”
His head snapped up, his eyes searching my face.
“For someone who went through the same,” I continued, my voice steady, “I know how it feels to be without a mother.
I know the emptiness, the grief that never quite goes away.
Being a man doesn’t make it any less painful.”
Kael’s eyes narrowed, a defensive edge creeping into his voice.
“Are you trying to make me feel better?”
“Do you feel better?” I asked, holding his gaze.
He shook his head slowly.
“No.”
The car came to a stop in front of the mansion.
“Okay then,” I said, rising from my seat.
I had said what I needed to say, and I could feel the conversation reaching its natural end.
But as I moved to stand, Kael’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm.
“So,” he said.
“do you accept the flowers?”
I looked down at him, then at the bouquet still clutched against my chest.
A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“Kael,” I said, “if I didn’t accept them, I wouldn’t be holding them right now.”
A flicker of relief crossed his features, but it was gone in an instant.
He released my arm and turned to me fully.
“So that means we can go out for dinner tonight, right?”
I stared at him, caught off guard by the shift in direction.
One moment we were discussing apologies and grief, and the next he was asking me out to dinner.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat.
The roses in my arms seemed to weigh more than they had a moment ago, their scent suddenly overwhelming.
Dinner with Kael.
I should have said no.
I should have made an excuse, pleaded exhaustion, retreated to the safety of my own space inside the room.
But the way he was looking at me with that rare vulnerability, that tentative hope… made it impossible to refuse.
“Fine.” I heard myself say.
“But on one condition.”