The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35 – The Spark That Wasn’t Static

Nevara

I woke with a start, breath caught in my throat.

For a second, I wasn’t sure why. The room was quiet, the light soft, and everything smelled faintly of

lavender and old wood. The sheets were still warm. My pillow was a little damp from where my hair had

dried in the night.

And yet…

Something had jolted me out of sleep. A dream, maybe.

I blinked up at the ceiling, trying to catch the edges of it. There’d been arms. Warmth. A steady heartbeat

pressed close. A voice rumbling low in my ear.

“That wasn’t static electricity.”

My eyes widened. That wasn’t a dream.

I sat up slowly, heartbeat ticking faster now for a completely different reason. My body remembered

before my brain did–how it felt to be carried in strong arms, how I’d snuggled against his chest without a

second thought, how I’d pulled off my hoodie and leggings in front of him like it meant nothing.

“Oh gods,” I whispered, looking down at myself.

My tank top had twisted during the night, one strap sliding so low I had a breast hanging out the side. I

scrambled to adjust it, heart thudding like war drums. Had it been like that when I stripped last night? I

didn’t think so. Probably not. Maybe not.

“I don’t think so,” I told the empty room.

But I wasn’t sure. And that mortified me.

I flopped back against the mattress and dragged both hands over my face.

He’d seen me like this. Barely dressed. Half–asleep. Vulnerable.

And he’d… tucked me in. Brushed the hair from my face like I was precious.

That shouldn’t have made me feel anything. It shouldn’t have. But it did.

And worse–I remembered the way my skin sparked when he touched me. Not just warmth. Not just

comfort.

The bond. I felt it. Even now, my skin remembered him. But that wasn’t possible, was it?

I whispered the question to no one. “Is that even possible? He severed the bond. Years ago.”

There shouldn’t be anything left to feel. That kind of magic wasn’t like a light you could flick on again. Or so I’d always believed.

< CHAPTER 35- The Spark That Wasn’t Static

But then… I hadn’t believed I’d ever feel safe again, either. Or wanted. Or seen.

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And that’s what he made me feel lately. Not just safe, but seen. Like I was more than someone’s political

obligation. More than a placeholder. More than a ghost in someone else’s love story.

He had rejected me–but now I understood why. I didn’t like how he’d done it, but I understood.

And if the gods, the moon, the bond–if something in all that still lingered between us… then maybe I didn’t

need to keep holding him at arm’s length.

Maybe I didn’t need to keep protecting myself from something that had already changed.

A small smile curved at the edge of my mouth. Soft. Private. Maybe this could be something again. Not

right away. Not everything all at once. But slowly. With care.

If he still wants me… And that was a big if.

But his eyes last night had told me plenty. That careful way he’d looked at me. The way his voice softened.

The way he held me like I was something breakable–and sacred.

If that was real… Then maybe it was time to stop running from it. I sat up again, this time with purpose. The

weight in my chest felt lighter, like I’d set something down without even realizing I’d been carrying it.

“Why not?” I whispered to myself. “If fate’s giving me a second chance…”

I peeled off the twisted tank and stepped into the bathroom. My hair was a mess, and I still looked

half–asleep, but I didn’t care. I let the water wake me. Washed the night off my skin and scrubbed away the

doubt.

Then I dressed–leggings and a soft cream sweater–and braided my hair back tight. A little blush, a touch

of lip balm. Just enough to look alive.

I was going to find him. Not to say anything, not yet. Just to… see him. Sit near him. Share space again.

The first place I looked was his office. It was early, but I knew his habits by now. He liked to be ahead of the day. And I needed to start this one with him.

The door wasn’t shut all the way. I lifted my hand, gave a light knock, and pushed it open with a soft, ”

Thoren?”

The words caught in my throat. He was there. And he wasn’t alone.

A woman stood wrapped in his arms, her head tucked beneath his chin, his hands resting lightly at her back. Her hair was dark and glossy, her figure lean and graceful. She looked like she belonged there–like she fit perfectly in that space that had only recently started to feel like mine.

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