As we descended the staircase, I was hyper aware of the heavy atmosphere that awaited us below. Diarmid’s inner circle—Brigit, Finn, Roisin, and Rhyian—were gathered, their sharp gazes shifting to me the moment I came into view. Knowing now what they were, I couldn't help but look at them differently. Each of them exuded an aura of quiet strength, their presence a reminder of the hidden world I was now a part of.

Michael stood tall, still cloaked in his Nephilim form, his golden aura simmering like a restrained storm. But the moment he saw me, unharmed and steady, the glow receded. His form softened, though the intensity in his eyes remained.

“Now we talk,” Michael declared, his voice firm and brooking no argument.

Diarmid nodded, keeping his hand lightly on my back as he led me toward the couch. Once seated, he kept his arm wrapped around my waist, his touch grounding me in the chaos of the moment.

Michael’s piercing gaze darted between us before he focused on Diarmid. “Explain,” he demanded.

Diarmid didn’t hesitate. “She’s my erasthai.” His voice was steady, filled with a certainty that sent a shiver down my spine. “My soulmate. And I will die protecting her if it comes to that.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over everyone. I felt my breath hitch, my heart pounding as I processed the depth of his declaration.

Michael’s jaw tightened, his golden eyes narrowing. “Do you understand what that means for her?” he asked, his tone almost accusatory.

“I understand perfectly,” Diarmid replied, his voice calm but unyielding. “It means that my life is tied to hers. That her safety and happiness come before anything else—even myself.”

Before Michael could respond, Brigit stepped forward, her usual playful demeanor replaced by solemnity. “We all stand by him,” she said, her voice steady. “Arwen is part of our pack now, whether she realizes it or not. We’ll protect her.”

Finn, Roisin, and Rhyian nodded in agreement, their expressions unwavering.

“We pledge ourselves to her safety,” Finn said, his tone firm yet respectful. “No harm will come to her while we live.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I listened to their vows. My lips trembled as I bit down on them, trying to hold back the overwhelming emotion swelling inside me.

Michael’s gaze softened as he turned to me, his golden eyes flickering with a mix of concern and pride. “Arwen,” he said gently, “you don’t have to accept this. You’re under my protection, too.” He gestured to the seat beside him.

Before I could even respond to what Michael said, Diarmid’s arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “She stays with me,” he said firmly, his voice low but filled with authority.

Michael’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as if assessing the situation.

I glanced at Diarmid, his presence beside me both comforting and overwhelming. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice breaking slightly as I looked at the others. “All of you.”

Brigit smiled warmly, her earlier solemnity giving way to a reassuring grin. “Welcome to the pack, Arwen.”

The tension in the room eased, though Michael’s guarded expression remained. Whatever lay ahead, I knew this moment had solidified something unbreakable. Diarmid’s words, their vows—they weren’t just promises. They were bonds forged in something far deeper than loyalty.

And though questions still swirled in my mind, one thing became abundantly clear: I wasn’t alone anymore.

Diarmid’s posture stiffened, and I could feel his grip around my waist tighten slightly as he listened intently to Michael’s words. His expression darkened, a flicker of concern flashing in his eyes despite his usual calm demeanor.

Diarmid’s jaw tightened, his gaze locking onto Michael’s as if weighing every word that had just been said. The room seemed to grow heavier with tension, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on all of us.

I could feel his arm around my waist tremble ever so slightly—not from fear, but from the restrained power he exuded when things felt out of his control.

“What exactly did my people say to you?” Diarmid finally asked, his voice low but commanding. There was no mistaking the edge of frustration in his tone.

Michael, now leaning against the bar with his glass of whiskey in hand, met Diarmid’s gaze evenly. “They claimed they were seeking help—information, allies. They spoke of attacks on packs in northern Europe. At first, we thought it was just infighting within your kind. But then they mentioned something... troubling.”

Diarmid’s eyes narrowed, his body tense like a coiled spring. “Troubling how?”

Michael set the glass down with a soft clink and crossed his arms. “They mentioned vampires. And hunters.” His gaze flicked to me briefly before landing back on Diarmid. “Specifically, hunters who target Nephilim bloodlines.”

A sharp intake of breath escaped me before I could stop it. Diarmid’s grip tightened protectively, pulling me closer.

“You’re saying these hunters are working with vampires?” Diarmid’s voice was a mix of disbelief and anger. “And possibly rogue werewolves?”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“It seems likely,” Michael replied. “They’ve been tracking Nephilim and their allies. The attacks on your people might be part of a larger plan.”

Diarmid ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Finn was sent to investigate in Europe, but this... this changes everything.” His gaze turned to me, softening slightly despite the storm brewing within him. “If this is connected to the hunters after you, Arwen, we need to act fast.”

I swallowed hard, my hands gripping the edge of my seat. “What do we do now?”

Diarmid’s eyes, filled with both determination and worry, met mine. “First, we protect you. Then we figure out how deep this threat goes—and we stop it.”

The silence that followed Michael's departure felt both suffocating and charged. His parting words echoed in my mind as I watched him walk out, his golden aura still faintly glowing in his wake. I knew he was going to rally the Circle, to strategize, to prepare for whatever storm was coming.

But that left me here—alone with Diarmid.

I shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of his presence. Diarmid stood by the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the moonlight. His arms were crossed, his jaw set in thought, and the tension radiating from him was palpable.

Nervous? Oh, that didn’t even begin to cover it. I was practically vibrating with it. Not because I didn’t trust him—because I did—but because everything about him seemed more intense now. The secrets revealed, the stakes raised, and the undeniable connection between us... it was overwhelming.

I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice. “Diarmid?”

Diarmid turned, his piercing blue-grey eyes locking onto mine. A small, almost amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips as if he could feel my nervous energy.

“You’re safe, Arwen. That’s what matters.”

I let out a shaky laugh, folding my arms. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re a Lycan prince, or whatever. Me? I’m just trying not to spiral here.”

His smile widened slightly as he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator approaching its prey—but without the menace.

“You’re more than you think you are, Arwen,” he said softly, his voice carrying that unmistakable mix of reassurance and authority.

“And you’re not alone in this.”

I looked down, my hands twisting nervously. “I don’t feel very... extraordinary,” I admitted.

“Everything feels like it’s spiraling out of control, and now Michael’s counting on me to keep my family in the loop when I don’t even know how to make sense of any of this myself.”

Diarmid reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was so tender, it sent a wave of warmth through me despite my anxiety.

“You’re stronger than you realize,” he said. “But I won’t push you. Just... promise me you’ll let me be here for you.”

I blinked up at him, startled by the vulnerability in his tone. “I promise,” I whispered, the words barely audible.

“Good,” he said, his voice firmer now, a protective edge creeping in. “Because I’m not letting anything—or anyone—hurt you.”

The weight of his words settled over me, both comforting and terrifying in its intensity. Diarmid wasn’t just promising to protect me; he was staking his claim in a way that felt unshakable.

And somehow, despite everything, I felt a little less nervous.

As the tension in the room thickened, I felt Diarmid's gaze on me, unwavering and intense. His presence was magnetic, drawing me in despite the whirlwind of emotions surging through me. He was close now, too close, and the air between us seemed to hum with an unspoken energy.

"Arwen," he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. The sound sent a shiver down my spine. "You don’t have to be afraid."

"I’m not," I whispered back, though my heart betrayed me, pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I wasn’t afraid—not of him, at least. But the emotions swirling inside me were something else entirely.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek, feather-light but igniting a fire beneath my skin.

"You’re trembling," he noted, his lips curving into the faintest smile, though his eyes held something deeper—something that made my breath catch.

"I..." I faltered, unable to form a coherent thought as his thumb traced along my jawline.

"Diarmid..."

"Say my name again," he murmured, his voice like silk, as he leaned in.

I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until it left me in a soft exhale.

"Diarmid," I repeated, barely audible, the word laced with something I couldn’t name.

His hand slid down, cupping my chin gently but firmly as he tilted my face up to meet his gaze.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his breath warm against my lips.

"Yes," I answered without hesitation. It wasn’t a lie. Despite everything, I trusted him with a certainty that defied logic.

"Good," he whispered, and before I could process what was happening, his lips captured mine.

The kiss was slow at first, deliberate, as if he were savoring the moment. His lips were soft yet commanding, moving against mine with a confidence that left me breathless. My hands found their way to his chest, the solid warmth of him grounding me as my knees threatened to buckle.

Diarmid deepened the kiss, his hand sliding to the small of my back and pulling me flush against him. I gasped softly at the sensation, and he took the opportunity to tease my lower lip, his tongue brushing against it in a way that sent a wave of heat coursing through me.

My fingers curled into his shirt—or what little of it there was—desperate for something to anchor me as he consumed me. His other hand tangled in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss even further. Every touch, every movement, was a silent claim, and I felt myself melting into him, lost in the intensity of it all.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing heavily, his forehead rested against mine, his eyes half-lidded but blazing with an emotion I couldn’t quite place.

"You’re mine, Arwen," he said, his voice husky and raw. "And I’ll remind you of that as many times as it takes."

I couldn’t bring myself to respond, still reeling from the kiss and the weight of his words. All I could do was nod, my heart racing as his thumb brushed over my swollen lips, a satisfied smirk playing on his face.

"Good," he said, his tone laced with promise. "Because I’m not letting you go."

Diarmid's fingers brushed against my arm, the warmth of his touch searing through the thin fabric of my shirt. The way he looked at me made my pulse race, his stormy blue-grey eyes darkened with an intensity that sent a thrill down my spine.

"Arwen," he murmured, his voice rough and thick with emotion. His lips found mine again, this time with more urgency, more need. The kiss was intoxicating, and I couldn’t help but melt into him, my hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders to steady myself.

When he pulled back, it was only to trail a series of soft, teasing kisses along my jawline, his lips grazing the sensitive skin there. My breath hitched as his mouth found the curve of my neck, lingering for a moment before pressing another kiss, and another. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down my spine, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

“Diarmid,” I whispered, unsure if I was begging him to stop or to keep going.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he pulled me closer, his hands firm on my waist. Slowly, he guided me toward the bed, and before I realized what was happening, he sat down on its edge, pulling me effortlessly onto his lap.

I found myself straddling him, my knees resting on either side of his thighs, my hands pressed against his chest for balance. The position was intimate, far more than I’d anticipated, and it sent a rush of heat through my body. His hands slid up to my hips, holding me in place as his lips found mine again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more consuming, and I felt his fingers tighten against me, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting me go.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and gravelly. His hands slid up my back, pulling me closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between us.

I couldn’t find the words to respond. My mind was spinning, my body reacting to every touch, every kiss. His lips found my neck again, and I gasped softly as he nipped at the sensitive skin there, soothing it immediately with his tongue. The sensation sent a ripple of pleasure through me, and I felt his smirk against my skin, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice a husky caress against my ear. His hands moved to cradle my face, tilting it upward so he could look into my eyes. “And you’re mine.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through me, and I couldn’t help but lean into him, my forehead resting against his as I tried to steady my breathing. The way he held me, the way he looked at me—it was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. For the first time, I felt completely safe, completely seen.

And as his lips found mine again, I realized there was no place I’d rather be.