Lyra’s POV
Alpha Ronan’s chambers felt different from the rest of Blackthorn.
Softer light, thick curtains, a scent of cedar and something darker that Lyra had already started to associate with power itself.
She stepped into the outer chamber carrying a pitcher of wine, watching two servers finish laying out the meal.
Roasted meat.
Steamed roots.
Warm bread.
A stew she’d made herself, following everything the kitchen workers had told her.
But the air didn’t change.
No weight.
No pull.
When he was near, she usually felt it.
But now, nothing.
She leaned toward Lysa.
“Is the Alpha in his room?”
“I don’t know,” Lysa said, not even looking up.
“You didn’t see him when you came in?”
Lysa finally glanced over, bored.
“Our job is to serve the food.
Not ask questions.” She whispered.
Lyra frowned.
In her old pack, food was never just dropped and abandoned.
Servants stayed until the Alpha finished, waiting for a nod, a lifted finger, anything.
Leaving early meant punishment.
“That seems careless,” she said before she could stop herself.
Lysa laughed shortly.
“Careless keeps you alive.
Notice too much and people start noticing you.”
Lyra looked back at the untouched food, steam already fading.
If he didn’t eat it fresh, the herbs lost their strength.
“Who usually brings him his meals?”
“Depends,” Lysa said.
“On whether he wants to be seen.”
That answer sat wrong with her.
She glanced at the closed inner doors.
Still nothing, no sound, no shadow.
What if the ashvine had flared up?
What if he hadn’t been eating what she sent?
“What if he’s unwell,” Lyra asked.
“Should we call the doctor?”
Lysa scoffed.
“No.
You’re an omega cook.
This doesn’t concern you.”
Lyra didn’t argue, didn’t mention she was his mate.
She just knew he needed to eat, whether he wanted to or not.
“You may go,” she said finally.
Lysa blinked.
“What?” She stuttered.
“I’ll stay and clear the dishes later.” Lyra muttered.
The room went still.
“That’s not your duty,” Lysa said.
“It’s mine tonight.”
Fear passed between the servers, quiet and clear.
Nobody wanted to be caught lingering near the Alpha’s door.
Lysa studied her a moment longer, then dipped her head.
“As you wish.
If he’s angry, don’t say we stayed.”
They left quickly, and Lyra was alone with the food and the silence.
Minutes passed.
The candles flickered.
Still nothing.
She knew she should leave.
But her wolf paced restlessly inside her, insistent.
He’s there.
“He’s my mate,” she whispered to the empty room.
“Even if he doesn’t know it.”
She pushed open the inner door.
Moonlight spilled across the massive bed at the center of the dark room.
Ronan lay there, sprawled and tense even in sleep, jaw clenched, hands fisted in the sheets like he was fighting something in a dream.
“Alpha?” No response.
She stepped closer.
“Alpha Ronan?”
Still nothing.
She reached out, fingers brushing his wrist.
Everything happened at once.
A hand clamped around her wrist and yanked her forward.
She landed hard on the edge of the bed as he rolled and pinned her in place, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
“Who are you?” he growled.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted to make sure you were well.”
His gaze moved over her face slowly.
“It’s me,” she blurted.
“Lyra.”
He frowned, testing the name.
“Lyra.”
“The tribute.
The head cook.”
Recognition flickered across his face.
His grip loosened, then fell away, and he pulled back like he’d only just noticed how close they were.
“Why are you here?”
“I brought your dinner.
You didn’t come out.
I was worried.” Lyra answered.
“Food is served in the outer chamber.
You shouldn’t be in here.”
“I know,” she whispered, cheeks burning.
“I thought if you didn’t eat, the poison might get worse.”
He said nothing for a moment.
Then he stood, adjusted his robe, and walked past her into the outer chamber.
She followed two steps behind, the way she always did.
He stopped at the table and looked down at the food.
Then, without ceremony, he tore into a piece of bread.
Relief flooded through her.
He was eating.
She turned toward the door, duty done.
“Sit,” he said.
She froze.
“Alpha?”
“Sit.
Eat.”
“I cannot.”
“You can.”
“That would be inappropriate.”
He turned to face her fully.
“I am not asking.”
Her wolf stirred at the weight of his command, pulling her toward the table even as her mind fought it.
Was this kindness?
Concern?
A test?
“I’ll eat later,” she said.
“No.
You’ll eat now.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he cut her off.
“You look like you haven’t eaten properly in days.
And I’m tired of everyone in this pack acting like I can’t have a simple conversation with another wolf.”
That honesty caught her off guard.
“I don’t need special treatment.
I’m only an omega.”
“I didn’t say special treatment.
I said eat.” His eyes narrowed slightly.
“You were brought here in a box.
Spent the week being questioned.
Worked on your feet all evening.
I’d guess you haven’t eaten since.”
Her fingers curled into her skirt.
He’d noticed too much.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, though even she heard the weakness in it.
“You’re not.” No anger in it.
Just certainty.
Her legs moved on their own.
She sat across from him, hands folded tight in her lap.
He pushed a plate toward her.
“Eat.”
She picked up her fork with shaking fingers and took a small bite.
The flavor bloomed warm and familiar, grounding her more than she expected.
Silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
She stole glances at him, at his shoulders relaxing slightly, at how his presence filled the room even in quiet.
This was wrong.
Dangerous.
And yet it felt right in a way she couldn’t explain.
He was her mate.
And tonight, for one brief moment, he was sitting across from her, sharing a meal.
Her wolf curled up contentedly inside her.
Lyra lowered her eyes, hiding the small, quiet smile blooming in her chest, knowing that whatever this was, it would change everything.