Page 73 of Rook

“Count on it,” I reply, stepping back from the threshold of temptation. The sounds from within are muffled now, but they still reach deep, reminding me of what I’m walking away from—for now.

“Stay safe, Rook,” Oberon calls out as I turn to leave.

“Always do,” I throw over my shoulder, already plotting my next move in the quiet hallways of The Bellanova. Behind me, the door seals shut, and I’m left in the cool silence of the corridor, the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders like a familiar cloak.

Aisling’s heat will end soon.

And when it does, we’ll be ready for whatever comes next.

Chapter thirty

Gunnar

The world’s comes back to me in pieces.

My heat’s dwindling, leaving me with that odd sensation of having been someone else entirely—more primal, wild—and now I’m just…me again. The air in the Bellanova Heat Spa tastes heavy and musky, saturated with the scents of desire and release.

I blink away the haziness, my eyelids feeling like they’re lined with sandpaper, and I’m hit with a wave of comfort so intense it almost hurts. There’s warmth all around me, a living blanket made up of the two bodies curled against my own. Luka’s presence at my back is a constant, a reminder of chaos turned into a strange sort of kinship. His chest rises and falls against me in a steady rhythm, his breath a gentle brush on the nape of my neck.

And there’s Oberon, the loyal shadow who’s never left my side through all the madness. His head’s a comforting weight on my hip, his breathing soft and even as if he’s found peace in the midst of our shared storm.

And Gunnar…

He’s sitting in a chair across from me, his gaze locked onto mine. It’s like he’s trying to communicate with me soul to soul, no words needed. But that’s always been Gunnar’s way—intense, heartfelt.

I need to touch him in a way that has nothing to do with my heat.

Just…to remind myself he’s here.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” I murmur, trying to chase away the silence. “Coming back from the edge.”

“Like you’ve been running wild through the woods,” he replies, his voice rough but tender. It’s not an accusation, just a fact we both understand. “But you look like you’re still in one piece.”

I smile, a small tug at the corner of my lips, and I extract myself from Luka and Oberon to prop myself up, reach out to Gunnar. My fingertips graze his cheek, rough stubble pricking against my skin. His eyes flutter closed at the touch, and there’s something disarmingly vulnerable about Gunnar like this. Worn down to the raw edges but still standing strong.

Healing isn’t pretty, but it’s necessary, and we’re all muddling through it together.

“Is it over?” he asks, eyes opening to search mine. I nod, feeling the last vestiges of the feverish heat dissipate within me.

“Yeah, it’s done.” My voice is hoarse, sounding foreign even to my own ears. I’m aware of how dirty I feel–hair tangled, the scent of our mingled scents heavy on the sheets, an uncomfortable stickiness between my thighs. It’s not just physical grime; it’s the weight of everything we’ve been through, clinging to me.

Gunnar’s gaze sweeps over me, not missing a single detail. “I like you like this,” he admits, and there’s no shame in his tone, only raw honesty. “Thoroughly used and pleasured.”

His words ignite a flicker of something deep inside me–surprise, maybe, or pride. He’s changed, shed layers of himself that once seemed impenetrable. Now here he is, laid bare in a way that goes beyond the physical.

A shiver runs across my skin, not from the chill but from the realization of how far we’ve come, how different we all are now. I’m not the only one who’s been forged new in the crucible of our desires and fears. We’re all molten, reshaped by the flames we’ve walked through.

“Look at us,” I whisper, my throat tight with emotion as I echo the words I said to Luka on New Eden months ago. “Perfect fucking chaos.”

Gunnar’s lips curl into a half-smile, a silent acknowledgment of our shared history. He extends his hand to me. “Come on, let’s wash away the chaos. Bath?”

I nod, weary but grateful for the gesture. Rising from the bed, I leave Oberon and Luka nestled in the disarrayed sheets, their breathing deep and even. As I take a step away, Oberon’s eyes flutter open, and he offers me a soft, knowing smile.

He wants us to work this out.

We have to work this out.

With Gunnar’s hand gentle on my back, guiding me, we make our way to the bathroom. The Bellanova Heat Spa is extravagant with its amenities, and the tub is no exception. It’s a lavish affair, easily accommodating four people—though maybe we’ll have to save that for next time. Gunnar bends over to twist the faucet, and soon warm water gushes out with a soothing sound. Steam begins to fill the room as if conjuring a misty sanctuary from the world outside.

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