The Secret Heirs of the Lycan King (Bella and scott) novel Chapter 68

**When Midnight Winds Carry Secrets Toward Worlds Yet Unknown**

**Bella**

As I stirred awake, the room was enveloped in a gentle haze of early morning light, casting a soft glow that felt almost ethereal. For a fleeting moment, I found myself disoriented, unsure of my surroundings. My cheek rested against something warm and solid, and a slight stiffness crept into my neck. Slowly, I blinked, lifting my head just enough to find his gaze locked onto mine.

Scott was awake.

He lay on his side, his eyes fixed on me as if he feared that the slightest movement would cause me to vanish. The clarity of his dark eyes was a stark contrast to the foggy haze of the previous night, and the intensity of his stare sent a rush of warmth through my chest. It was the look of a man who had clawed his way out of a nightmare, only to find the one thing he desperately needed right beside him.

For what felt like an eternity, we remained in that silent exchange, our breaths mingling in the stillness. Then, like a dam bursting, reality crashed over me.

“You’re awake,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper as I shot upright, my heart racing like a wild horse. “Oh my god, are you okay? Do you feel dizzy? Is anything hurting? Is your chest tight, your head heavy, your vision blurry—”

I leaned over him, cradling his face in my trembling hands, desperately searching for any signs of distress. His skin felt warmer than I had expected, and the faint color returning to his cheeks offered me a flicker of solace. I brushed my thumbs gently across his cheekbones, then pressed the back of my hand to his forehead. My fingers trailed lightly down to his neck, seeking the reassuring rhythm of his pulse, desperate to find anything that might indicate he was still in danger.

He let me fuss over him, his gaze unwavering, as if I were the only thing in the universe worth his attention.

“Bella,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though he hadn’t spoken in ages.

The sound of my name on his lips sent a rush of emotion through me, and I felt my eyes well up. “You scared me,” I whispered, the confession escaping like a fragile secret.

“You came,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine, filled with an intensity that made my heart flutter. “How? Why?”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his question pressing down on me. “Troy guided me,” I managed to say, my voice trembling slightly. “He… he gave me a way. And I followed it.” I tried to sound casual, but my throat tightened, betraying my anxiety.

Without another word, he tugged me closer, enveloping me in a fierce embrace against his chest. “You came for me. Were you not afraid of wolves?” he murmured, his lips brushing against my hair, sending shivers down my spine.

“I was terrified,” I admitted, shifting even closer, my arms wrapping around him, feeling the steady warmth radiating from his body. “You have no idea. But I carried a silver gun with me, just in case.”

A soft rumble of laughter escaped him, resonating through his chest. “Of course you did,” he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice. “My woman walks into a pack of wolves armed with silver bullets.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, though a shadow of concern crossed my mind. “Many people here are very unhappy with me now,” I muttered against his chest, recalling Elder Cass’s disapproving glare. “I think I ruined their favorite holiday.”

His hand began a slow, soothing motion up and down my back, as if he needed to reassure himself of my presence. I pressed my fingers against his heartbeat, grounding myself in the reality that he was alive, warm, and right here with me.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, searching my face with an intensity that made my heart race. “I don’t care who is unhappy with you,” he stated firmly. “Neither should you.”

Unable to contain myself, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, the kiss igniting a spark that sent electricity coursing through me. It started softly, a gentle exploration, but quickly became urgent as he cradled the back of my head, pouring his emotions into that moment. For a heartbeat, my entire world narrowed to the sensation of his mouth moving against mine, a perfect harmony of longing and relief.

When I finally pulled back, breathless, I said, “If I see Tasha anywhere near you again,” I warned, “I might actually kill her.”

He responded with a low hum, the sound warm and content, wrapping around us like a comforting blanket.

“I should go and get the doctor,” I said after a moment, realizing I had no idea when anyone had last checked on him. “Just to make sure everything is okay now.”

“No! Don’t move,” he rasped, his voice urgent. “Just stay exactly like this for a while.”

That simple request cut through my anxiety like a knife. He shifted slightly, adjusting so his head lay more comfortably on my thighs, his warm breath brushing against the inner side of my legs.

Heat surged through me, a rush of arousal that sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I had to bite my lip to suppress a moan. This was not the time for such thoughts. He was still recovering, and I was supposed to be a responsible adult, not sitting here feeling flustered just because his mouth was so close to—

Why was he breathing so hard?

Suddenly, the door swung open, and the doctor stepped in. I jumped, my hand freezing in his hair. The doctor halted in his tracks, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the scene before him—Scott lying with his head in my lap, my fingers tangled in his hair, and Scott’s hand resting possessively on me.

“I came to say that Your Majesty is fine now,” he finally managed to say, his voice faltering.

“What? He’s very weak,” I retorted, my protective instincts flaring. “You clearly don’t know how to diagnose your patient properly. Look at him—he can barely sit up. He needs rest and care.”

The doctor blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find a response, glancing between me and Scott, clearly taken aback by the intimacy of the moment.