The Howlcrest Werewolves Legacy-Chapter 29: The next morning

Daisy was asleep within minutes.

Her lashes sank, her head lolled against the couch armrest, and a soft sigh slipped past her lips as the blanket cocooned her in warmth. Exhaustion pulled her under fast and deep, as though the Moon Goddess herself had wrapped her in safety.

Fabian stood over her, arms folded loosely across his chest, and just looked. His wolf pressed close, restless, snarling with satisfaction. Ours.

She didn’t know it yet, but he did. The Moon Goddess had sent her colliding into him, heart pounding, eyes wild with defiance and fear—and in that instant, he had known. Daisy wasn’t chance. She wasn’t an accident. She was fate.

His mate.

The thought set his blood on fire and yet soothed him at the same time. She was here. His to guard. His to convince. His to love.

And she didn’t trust him—yet.

That part didn’t matter. Bonds this deep couldn’t be severed. His only task was to show her the truth: that she was never meant to run alone.

Fabian dragged his hand through his hair, forcing himself to step away. He needed space, air, before he tore his own control apart just watching her breathe.

The werewolf stronghold was still at this hour. He moved through its silent halls like a shadow, slipping out into the courtyard and then into the trees. The night pressed cold and clean against his skin, the scents of pine and damp earth sharp in his lungs.

He found the clearing again. Empty. No hunters. No bodies. No blood. Whoever had come for her had been wiped away as though they’d never existed.

Fabian crouched low, palm pressed to the soil. His crimson gaze cut through the dark, searching for heat, for tracks, for anything that would tell him who dared touch what was his.

Nothing.

He straightened slowly, his mouth pulling into a grim line. Whoever had sent those men would try again. Daisy hadn’t stumbled into him by accident—she’d been driven, hunted, forced straight into his path by the same goddess who had written her name into his bones.

Fabian tilted his head back, eyes on the silver spill of the moon above the trees. His chest tightened.

"I see your game, Goddess," he muttered under his breath, voice raw. "You’ve dropped her into my arms. Now I’ll keep her. No matter the cost."

By the time he returned to the stronghold, the horizon was only beginning to pale with the first hint of dawn. He shut the heavy oak doors behind him with a muted thud and climbed the staircase two at a time.

The fire in his chamber had burned lower, shadows dancing on the walls. Daisy was exactly as he’d left her, curled on the couch, her lips parted in soft, steady breaths.

He stood there for a long moment, just watching. The frown still tugged at his brow, but a strange heat softened his chest.

He should sleep. The exhaustion of the fight and the run pulled at him. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw her—wild blonde hair, green eyes steady on his, her whisper echoing: Help me.

Fabian exhaled slowly and heavily, and lowered himself into the armchair across from her. His wolf prowled restlessly inside him, curious, protective, and wanting.

He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, watching her as if she might vanish if he blinked.

And there, with the quiet crackle of embers filling the silence, Alpha Prince Fabian—who had never lost sleep over a woman in his life—let the night pass while his gaze stayed fixed on the girl who had collided with him in the woods.

The girl who was his.

And Daisy—his Daisy—was still curled on the couch, the blanket slipping a little as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

Fabian crossed the room and stopped at her side. His wolf calmed instantly, a deep contented thrum filling him just from her presence. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

His thumb lingered a moment too long.

"You don’t know it yet," he whispered, his voice a vow. "But you’re mine. Sent to me. And I’ll protect you until you see it for yourself."

He leaned back in the armchair, eyes fixed on her. Sleep tugged at him, but he resisted.

How could he rest when the most important fight of his life had just begun?

!

Morning crept into the stronghold slowly, spilling through the tall windows in pale shafts of gold. The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers, and the air carried the crisp bite of dawn.

On the couch, Daisy stirred.

Her lashes fluttered, and she let out a low groan, dragging the blanket higher over her head. A warm stripe of sunlight had found her face, insistent and unrelenting. She turned her body in a sluggish half-roll, burying her cheek where her legs had been before, tangling herself in the blanket.

Her leg kicked out lazily, shifting to escape the light. But it followed her, creeping across her cheek again, painting her skin in soft gold.

"Ugh..." she mumbled, voice muffled and thick with sleep.

Grumbling something incoherent, she yanked the blanket fully over her head. The cocoon of warmth swallowed her whole, leaving only a tumble of messy blonde hair poking out. She curled tighter, clutching the fabric around herself like armour, and within moments her breathing slowed again.

Sleep reclaimed her easily, dragging her back down, leaving the room silent except for her soft, steady breaths.

Morning.

Fabian hadn’t meant to smile.

But when he pushed open the heavy oak door and found her curled up like that—bundled in his blanket, and she even mumbled in her sleep—something in his chest eased. Like she already belonged here. In his space. In his world.

It startled him. So, naturally, he ignored it.

With a steady breath, he set down the folded clothes he’d had sent up — a soft tunic, leggings, and a warm cloak, simple but far better than the torn scraps she’d arrived in—on the small table beside the couch.

Then his brow furrowed. How should he wake her up without startling her?

Fabian tilted his head, studying the awkward sprawl. She was curled sideways, the blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. Her hair was hidden, her face completely tucked under the fabric, her body twisted at an odd angle. All he could see was her strange shape.

He smirked faintly. Did she fight assassins in the night and then wrestle my blanket for dominance?

But the curiosity itched at him. So, slowly, cautiously, he stepped closer. He crouched at what he assumed was her "head," tentatively lifting the blanket corner to peek at her face.

Except it wasn’t her face.

The blanket peeled back just enough to reveal a smooth expanse of creamy skin. Calf. Then knee. Then thigh.

Fabian’s smirk slipped. His eyes widened slightly, a hungry heat sparking low in his gut before he could stop it.

Oh, Moon above.

Before he could process the dangerous direction of his thoughts, the legs moved.

In a blur, Daisy snapped awake, yanking the blanket down with a gasp. She bolted upright, hair wild, eyes blazing green fire.

"What—" Her voice cracked, high and sharp. "WHAT are you doing?!"