Rodrigo lowered her onto the bed with more care than he had intended, his hand lingering at the small of her back, long enough to feel the heat through her clothes.
A low sigh escaped his lips.
This woman had absolutely no survival skills.
Heat radiated through the thin fabric of her clothes, seeping into his palm, and for a brief moment he remained there, suspended between instinct and something far less defined.
Her head tilted slightly to the side as it met the pillow, her lashes resting against her cheeks, her lips parted just enough for each uneven breath to slip through. A faint sound escaped her, soft and fragile, and it tightened something in his chest in a way he did not immediately appreciate.
His gaze drifted, uninvited.
It traced the damp strands of hair clinging to her face, the curve of her cheek, the subtle tension still held in her brows even in unconsciousness, as though whatever she had seen refused to release her completely. Then his eyes dropped, slower this time, settling on her lips.
They were pale from the fever, slightly parted, the faintest tremor passing through them with each breath she drew, and for a second longer than necessary, he found himself watching them, the rise and fall, the quiet vulnerability of the moment pressing in around him.
A slow breath left him before he realized it had formed.
His fingers lifted, almost of their own accord, as though to brush the hair away from her face, to clear the path for a better look—
A knock sounded on the door.
Rodrigo's hand paused midair, then lowered immediately.
He straightened, his expression resetting before he turned toward the door and pulled it open.
"Alpha, the healer is here," Seven said.
Behind him stood an elderly woman, her posture slightly bent with age but her gaze sharp, a maid trailed behind her, holding a box in her hands.
"The Alpha sent us to attend to your Luna," she said with a respectful bow. "He extends his apologies for the mishap."
Rodrigo stepped aside without comment, allowing them entry.
The maid moved quickly, placing the box on the table and opening it to reveal neatly arranged herbs, their scent rising into the room in a mixture of bitter and earthy notes that settled into the air. The healer approached the bed with practiced ease, already reaching for the tools she needed.
"Get her personal maid," Rodrigo said, his voice even, his gaze still fixed on the woman lying on the bed. "She will need assistance when she wakes."
"Yes, Alpha."
Seven left, the door closing softly behind him.
Rodrigo did not move from where he stood, his attention narrowing as the healer worked. Her hands were steady as she prepared the mixture, grinding leaves, combining liquids, the faint sound of mortar against pestle filling the quiet space between them. When she was done, she set the bowl aside and finally reached for Nina's wrist.
The contact lasted less than a second.
The healer recoiled as though burned, her entire body jerking back, her breath catching sharply as her fingers pulled away with force. Her eyes widened instantly, the composure she had walked in with fracturing as she stared at Nina.
Rodrigo's gaze sharpened as he glanced at her and then lifted to the healer's face.
"What is wrong?"
The healer did not answer.
Her lips parted, then pressed together again, her gaze flickering between Nina and the space just beyond her, as though she were trying to decide whether what she had felt was real.
Rodrigo closed the distance between them,
"Explain," he said, more firmly this time.
The woman drew in a breath, steadying herself, though the unease remained visible in the slight tremor of her fingers.
"When I touched her," she began slowly, "I felt something… strong."
Rodrigo's eyes narrowed.
"Strong?" he repeated.
She nodded, swallowing before continuing.
"There is a very powerful energy within her," she said, her voice lowering as though the words themselves carried weight. "Something that does not feel natural."
The room fell into silence.
Rodrigo did not react. His gaze focused on the healer. A second passed. Then another.
His gaze shifted briefly to Nina before returning to the healer. "What do you mean?" his voice was lower now, his gaze darker.
The healer shook her head,
"I do not know," she admitted. "I have never encountered anything like it before."
Rodrigo held her gaze for a moment longer, searching for hesitation, for exaggeration, for anything that suggested this was some ploy, but the dread on the woman's face was evident.
He glanced at the figure on the bed.
"You may leave," he ordered.
The woman nodded. ''Feed her the medicine when she wakes up,'' she said and quickly gathered her box and walked out, the maid following behind her.
The door closed behind them.
Silence filled the room.
Rodrigo did not move. His eyes just stayed on the woman on the bed.
How did she get into that house?
Was whatever energy the healer was talking about from that house?
He crossed the room to where she lay and took her hand.
He didn't feel anything strange. The heat was still there, strong and steady beneath his touch, her skin warm against his, her pulse even, consistent, entirely normal.
And yet—
His thumb brushed lightly against her skin as though he might find something beneath it if he looked long enough.
Nothing.
There was no visible difference.
A faint inhale broke through his thoughts. Nina's chest rose sharply, her fingers tightening against the sheets as her lashes fluttered before finally lifting. Her gaze moved slowly at first, unfocused, adjusting to the light, to the unfamiliar surroundings.
Then she saw him.
Awareness returned in a rush, her breath catching as though she had been pulled back too quickly.
"You're awake," Rodrigo said, watching her closely.
Nina blinked. Her chest rising and falling in shallow pulls as fragments of memory began rushing back.
Her fingers curled into the fabric beneath her, blood draining from her face.
"What happened?" Rodrigo asked, his gaze steady on her face. "What were you doing in that house?"
Nina blinked, her eyes shifting away from his and landing somewhere close to the door as she avoided the question.
She could not tell him.
Even thinking about it made her chest tighten. If she mentioned it, he would think she was crazy.
"Nothing," she said quickly. Still avoiding his gaze.
Rodrigo said nothing.
He simply watched her.
She glanced at him, her eyes met his grey piercing ones for a second and she looked away again.
"I lost my way," she added, her voice rough at the edges, "The place was full of dust… I must have inhaled too much. I don't remember anything after that."
Nina's heart thumped loudly against her chest, as her hands fisted in the sheets.
Rodrigo did not respond.
She was lying.
He could hear her heartbeat—too fast, too uneven for someone telling the truth. What was she hiding?
His gaze lingered on her, as though studying.
''Is that all?'' he asked, his voice calm.
Nina glanced at him and nodded, ''Yes... that's all.''
Rodrigo was quiet for a second, then he nodded.
He reached for the bowl of medicine, the faint warmth of it still intact as he returned to the bed and held it out toward her.
"Drink this, it'll help your fever go down." he said.
Nina lifted her hands to take it, but the moment her fingers closed around the edge of the bowl, they betrayed her, trembling enough to send a small ripple through the liquid.
She froze, her gaze dropping to her hands as though willing them to steady, but the tremor only increased.
A breath caught in her throat.
Slowly, she lowered them again.
Rodrigo stared at her, and then he sat.
Nina's heart skipped as the mattress dipped slightly beneath his weight, the distance between them narrowing.
He picked up the spoon, stirring the mixture once before lifting it toward her, his gaze steady.
"Open," he said, bringing the spoon to her lips.
Nina felt heat rush to her cheeks, her eyes widening as her heartbeat stumbled, then picked up too fast.
Slowly, she parted her lips, the spoon brushing against them as the bitter liquid touched her tongue. Her face tightened immediately, the taste sharp and unpleasant, but she did not pull away.
He waited just long enough before offering another.
And another.
The rhythm settled into something quiet, almost deliberate, the soft sound of the spoon against the bowl filling the silence between them. His proximity was impossible to ignore now, the faint warmth of him, the steadiness, the way his presence seemed to anchor the space around her even as her thoughts threatened to drift back to that house.
A strand of her hair slipped loose, falling forward, brushing against her lips and clinging there.
Rodrigo brought another spoon to her lips.
His movement slowed as his gaze caught on the strand. He set the spoon aside and brushed it away from her lips, his skin grazing hers as he tucked it gently behind her ears.
Nina froze.
Her breath catching as wide eyes lifted to his face, heat rushing to her face.
He said nothing.
He just lifted the next spoonful to her lips as though he had done absolutely nothing.