Chapter 34
Niall POV
The dinner was awkward. Painfully silent in the aftermath of what had almost been a full-blown alpha clash.
Not how I imagined introducing him to my family at all.
The air had been thick, uncomfortable. Even Thieran—bless his sunshine soul—had gone quiet for once, fiddling nervously with his cutlery. Mirelle didn't look at me once after Thorne's scolding. And Ted… Ted didn't eat much. Just picked at his food like it might turn on him. His posture had curled inward by the time dessert arrived.
I walk him to his room in silence, a tightness in my chest that won't ease no matter how many times I try to exhale it away.
He opens the door and steps inside.
I hesitate.
"May I come in for a sec?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
He pauses, then nods. "Yeah… sure."
The door clicks shut behind us. He walks to the bed and sits on the edge, fingers curled in the sheets like he's grounding himself. The light from the wall sconces paints him in gold and shadows. His curls are a little messy, and there's a faint tremor in his shoulders.
I sit down beside him, careful to leave enough space that he doesn't feel crowded, but close enough that I'm here if he needs me.
"I'm sorry about what happened," I say quietly. "That wasn't how it was supposed to go."
He gives a weak laugh. "No, no. I'm at fault too for not shutting my big mouth."
I look at him, and the guilt in his voice makes something inside me twist.
"And you shouldn't have spoken like that to your sister," he adds after a beat.
I scoff. "Don't defend her. She came at you first."
"She was defending her fiancée," Ted says quietly.
"And so, I was defending you?" I reply, eyes on him.
I leave the implication hanging in the air.
He blinks, startled. His mouth parts slightly, but no words come out. I can see the thoughts running behind his eyes, like he's not sure if I meant to say that—if it was a slip, or something heavier.
He looks away first. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," I say simply.
Still, he doesn't look at me. Instead, he studies the edge of the duvet like it might offer him an escape. But he doesn't move away, doesn't pull back from my presence. That counts for something, right?
"You didn't have to," he says again, more softly this time.
"You're already doing so much… this whole contract thing, trying to make me feel comfortable, letting me stay in this palace of a house… I don't want to be the reason you fight with your sister."
I exhale, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on my knees.
"Ted… this isn't about doing things for you. I'm doing this with you. If someone says something to you, or tries to intimidate you I'm going to respond. That's not some noble sacrifice. That's because I give a shit."
His head turns toward me slowly, brows furrowed.
Silence stretches between us.
Then he speaks, so softly I almost miss it.
"Why me?"
"I don't know," I admit.
And then I chuckle, running a hand through my hair.
"I was asking myself the same thing, maybe it's your eyes that sparkle, your hair that makes me want to run my fingers through it, your mere presence that gets my heart racing, the way your smile makes me feel like I'm on cloud nine… you know, minor things."
His head whips toward me.
I catch the twitch at the corner of his mouth—he's trying not to smile, but he's failing. Badly.
He snorts. Actually snorts a laugh, it's so cute.
He shakes his head and stands up, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears are turning red. I consider that a small victory.
"Thanks," he says, voice softer now. "I should sleep."
I nod and rise too, letting the moment settle between us like dust in warm sunlight. I expect a wave, maybe a quiet goodnight.
Instead, he walks me to the door.
He hesitates for a beat. His fingers twitch slightly at his sides, like he's debating something. Then—suddenly, boldly—he leans in on his tiptoes, warm breath brushing against my cheek before pressing a quick kiss there.
It's barely a second.
My brain short-circuits.
And then—
SLAM.
The door shuts in my face.
I just stand there.
Staring at it.
Processing.
Did that just happen?
I reach up slowly, fingers brushing over the place he kissed. My cheek is warm. My heart is loud. My knees might be a little unsteady.
What the hell is happening to me?
I grin.
The ridiculous, helpless kind of grin that doesn't leave your face even when you try to force it down.