"I’m nothing like him," he said quietly.
"No, you’re not." Vessa’s hand touched his shoulder gently. "You’re what he could have been if he’d dealt with his trauma instead of running from it. You feel deeply and you don’t apologize for it. You’re quiet but it’s not weakness, it’s strength. You observe and you understand and you use that to protect the people you love." She paused. "You’re a better man than Aldric ever was, Silas. A better Alpha. A better mate. A better person."
Silas turned to look at her, and was surprised to find tears in her eyes.
"Your mother would be so proud of you," Vessa said, her voice thick with emotion. "All three of you. You took everything Aldric was, the strength, the intelligence, the power and you tempered it with things he never had. Compassion. Emotional awareness. The willingness to be vulnerable with the people who matter." She smiled through her tears. "You’re everything she hoped you’d be."
Sothing cracked in Silas’s chest. The tight control he’d maintained through the entire conversation finally broke, and he felt tears slip down his own face.
"I don’t know who I am without the version of him I built in my head," he admitted. "The hero father I was trying to live up to. If that was a lie, then what...."
"You’re Silas Blackwood," Vessa interrupted firmly. "Not Aldric’s son. Not the quiet brother. Not the youngest Alpha. Just Silas. The man who dream-walks with his mate. The one who sees what others miss. The deep river his brothers depend on." She held his gaze. "That’s who you are. And it has nothing to do with Aldric except that you chose to be better than him."
Silas pulled her into a hug, and Vessa held him while he cried...really cried for the father he’d lost and the father he’d never actually had.
When Silas finally pulled back, his eyes were red but clearer than they’d been in years.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For telling . For waiting until I was ready to hear it."
"You’re welco." Vessa squeezed his hand. "And Silas? If you ever want to know more about your mother, about what she was really like, about the conversations we had, I’m here. Always."
"I’d like that."
He left the library feeling hollowed out and sohow lighter at the sa ti, like a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying had finally been lifted.
The bedroom was empty when he returned. His brothers must still be out handling pack business. But Eve was there, curled up in the window seat with a book, and she looked up when he entered.
Her expression shifted imdiately from relaxed to concerned. "Silas? What’s wrong?"
He crossed to her without speaking, and Eve set the book aside and opened her arms. Silas folded himself against her, his head in her lap, and let himself just... feel everything he’d been holding back in the library.
Eve’s fingers slid into his hair, stroking gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Vessa told about my father," Silas said, his voice muffled against her legs. "The real version. Not the legend."
"And?"
"And he was broken. Traumatized. Too proud to ask for help. And it got him and my mother killed."
Eve’s hand stilled for a mont, then resud its soothing motion. "I’m sorry."
"I don’t know how to reconcile it," Silas admitted. "The father I thought I knew versus the reality. The man I was trying to live up to versus the man I actually want to be."
"Then don’t reconcile it," Eve said softly. "Let the legend go. Grieve the father you thought you had. And then choose who you want to be regardless of what he was or wasn’t."
"What if I make the sa mistakes?"
"You won’t." Her certainty was absolute. "You know why? Because you’re already different. You talk about your feelings. You ask for help. You let yourself be vulnerable with the people who love you. Those are all things he couldn’t do. So no, Silas. You’re not going to make his mistakes. You’re going to make your own, and then you’re going to learn from them, because that’s who you are."
Silas turned his head to look up at her. "How do you always know exactly what I need to hear?"
"Because I pay attention." Eve’s smile was soft. "Because I love you. And because you’re not as mysterious as you think you are."
Despite everything, Silas laughed. "No?"
"No." She leaned down and kissed him gently. "You’re an open book to . Every thought. Every feeling. Every worry. I see all of it."
"And you love anyway?"
"Especially because of it." Eve’s fingers traced his jaw. "The deep feeling. The sensitivity. The way you notice things others miss. Those aren’t weaknesses, Silas. They’re your greatest strengths."
Silas sat up, turning to face her properly. "I need you," he said, the words raw and honest. "Need to feel sothing other than this hollow ache."
Eve’s expression softened with understanding. "Then take what you need. I’m here."
He kissed her.....deep and desperate and full of everything he couldn’t put into words. Eve responded imdiately, her hands sliding into his hair, her mouth opening under his.
"Bedroom," Silas managed between kisses.
"We’re already here," Eve pointed out.
"Bed. Need you in the bed."
They stumbled toward the mattress together, shedding clothes as they went, and when Silas laid Eve down and covered her body with his, sothing in his chest finally settled.
This. This was real. This mattered.
Not legends. Not legacies. Just this woman who loved him completely and the bond between them that grew stronger every day.
Silas took his ti, mapping every inch of her with his hands and mouth, relearning familiar territory like it was the first ti. He made her gasp and squirm and beg before he finally settled between her thighs and pushed inside with agonizing slowness.
"Silas," Eve breathed, her legs wrapping around his waist. "Please..."
"Shh. Let take care of you." He started moving, long slow strokes that built pleasure gradually. "Let show you what you an to ."
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