The King's Return

49| I DON'T WANT TO EVER SEE YOU CRYING

LOGAN'S POV

Morning brought the bitter realisation that sleep had managed to escape me like grains of sand. The night had been chaotic, with my mind racing and my body drenched in sweat. For a brief moment, I considered the fact that I might have a fever, but being aware of my werewolf genes quickly erased that thought.

I dragged myself to the bathroom where I could find comfort in the cold, damp embrace of a cold shower, trying to shake off the confusion that was following me like a nagging shadow. The cold water provided a momentary relief, but dizziness was a constant companion in the relatively early hours of this morning.

I went back to bed and looked at the clock, its glowing hands taunting my insomnia. It was seven o'clock, which meant I had an entire hour before the responsibilities of the day forced me to leave my bed. The idea of taking on the next responsibilities was a burdensome concept, a reminder of commitments postponed following yesterday's chaos.

Today was supposed to be the last day of the evaluation procedure, a crucial turning point in the company's functioning. However, my absence yesterday may have thrown off the processes and added a day to the outcome. A subtle reprimand for my carelessness, guilt chewed at the limits of my awareness.

I had the brief impulse to ask my father for help in running the company's affairs. I was hesitant, but his knowledge and expertise might surely lessen the load. He had come to spend time with Alex and I couldn’t bear to intrude upon their treasured moments together. Their time together was precious to me just as it was to them.

I missed Sam very much; her steady commitment and deft hands were a comfort to my tormented mind. Her effect on my personal and professional life was profound, as evidenced by the weight of her absence. However, dragging her out of her own family's embrace looked like a self-serving pleasure that I could not justify.

All I had to do was get my strength back and get rid of the disorientation that had stuck with me like a thick cloud and the aftereffects of the sleepless night. My attention could finally shift to Amira and our relationship once I had taken care of my personal needs and taken care of my responsibilities.

She gently reminded me of her presence and her worry with her message yesterday, pulling at the edges of my consciousness. I had planned to assure her that my absence from work was a simple oversight—the result of exhaustion rather than any intentional move on her side. However, amid the chaotic events of the night, that intention slipped through my fingers.

My conscience pinched with guilt as I thought of the misery she must have gone through, thinking she was the reason for my absence. The thought of her bearing that load and her heart heaving with unjustified guilt saddened me.

My determination became crystal clear as I got ready for the day. I would clear the air and eliminate any misunderstandings that could have persisted between us. Amira needed to understand that my love for her was a sign of my deep admiration and respect for her independence rather than a source of force.

That's when I made a promise to myself: for the rest of my life, her happiness would be the most important thing to me and would serve as a lighthouse for me to follow. The image of her smile unhindered by guilt or uncertainty, became a constant source of motivation for me amid the shadows.

Time passed without me noticing as exhaustion descended over me and pulled me back into sleep. Just as my consciousness returned, the room was illuminated by the long shadows formed by the afternoon light, which served as a silent reminder of the passing of time.

But my legs continued to feel heavy, an unwanted afterthought after my restless sleep. Illness hung over me, threatening to dampen my determination no matter how hard I tried. Despite my exhaustion and the uncertainties that were nagging at the back of my mind, I remained in fighting to give in.

As I grabbed for my phone, the screen flashed with missed calls from Sam, Mom, Dad and even young Alex. However, one thing was noticeably missing from them all: Amira's messages were absent.

I scowled as I couldn't figure out why her name wasn't among the thousands of alerts. Had she tried to get in touch and I'd responded with nothing? I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that the concept was gnawing at me. But then, had that been the case, I would see her missed calls or messages.

I ignored the dishevelled sensation that had enveloped me like a thick blanket and focused instead on the glass of water resting on the bedside table. It stood there unassumingly, a quiet witness to the secrets that hung in the air.

I brought it to my lips out of instinct, the cool liquid providing a welcome relief from the thirst that was plaguing me. However, as I sipped, a feeling of confusion overcame me, a persistent uncertainty that marred the seemingly innocent gesture.

Resolving to look into this more, I put down the glass. I moved cautiously into the living room, keeping my eyes peeled for any indication of trespassing. But there was still nothing in the room, nothing but the ghosts of the previous night.

The room I'd set aside for Amira made a rustling noise that caught my attention; the tiniest trace of movement suggested that someone was hiding there. A knot of confusion tore at me—had Greta not told me that all was well? Yet here she was, apparently preoccupied with things that should have been accomplished long ago.

My confidence in her ability was clouded by doubt as it slowly seeped into my thoughts. Had I been too fast to give her such a big responsibility? Or was there something worse going on, a covert plan hiding behind her allegiance?

I decided, heartbroken, to face her and solve the puzzle of why she had suddenly appeared. I could afford nothing less than complete perfection when it came to Amira. However, that doesn't seem like something she would do.

I was frozen in place, my head spinning with a chaotic mix of contradictory feelings. Amira was in front of me, her presence soothing whatever was happening in my heart. And yet even as I looked at her, something disconcerting occurred to me: where the scent of her had previously mesmerised me, there was now a strange emptiness.

"Amira," I managed to say, my voice heavy with unanswered questions.

Her grin wavered, and a worried expression appeared on her face. "Logan, you're awake," she said, her voice softened with relief.

Her words came over me like a comforting symphony in the middle of my jumbled thoughts. I gave her a grin in reply, but it was forced. It had been much too long since I had seen her, and seeing her here in front of me evoked a need inside me that I was unable to fully describe.

However, a sombre realisation enveloped me like a veil as I stood there, soaking in her presence. I felt nothing, not the typical drunken surge of need, nor the reassuring comfort of her presence, even though she was close and her scent was familiar. It seemed like someone had covered my senses with a veil and abandoned me in an unknown sea.

Amira's eyebrows knitted in worry as she looked over my face, searching for any indication of discomfort. "I hope I didn't disturb you. I've tried to remain as quiet as possible since I came here. I figured I should unpack while I waited for you to wake up because Greta informed me that this is the room you requested her to prepare for me. You appear to be experiencing a severe fever. Are you alright?"

I shook my head, trying to figure out what this mysterious illness was that was plaguing me. "I'm not sure what happened," I said. "For the past two days, I've felt drained, and this fever just won't go away."

That's when it dawned on me, a depressing reminder of how fleeting these new abilities really are. With a hint of annoyance in my voice, I said again, "It's strange. A werewolf like me shouldn't be prone to something as ordinary as a fever."

Amira's look reflected my own confusion, growing more worried by the second. "I was taken aback too," she acknowledged. "What worries me more, though, is your wolf. Since my arrival, I have not felt his presence, and Aurellia has not been able to get through to him too."

At her words, dread curled in the pit of my stomach, a gnawing worry that threatened to swallow me whole. My bond with my wolf appeared to be susceptible to the consequences of whatever had happened to me. And at that same moment, I saw that solving the riddles surrounding me would call for more than just willpower—it would call for bravery and a readiness to face the hidden fears.

I felt a surge of annoyance when Amira expressed exactly the same worry that had been simmering at the back of my mind. My wolf, who had been a continuous presence in my life for the last five years, had mysteriously disappeared, leaving a gap that hummed with eerie quiet.

"It seems like he's not even here," I said, my voice laced with disappointment. "I've made an effort to connect, but nothing has happened. No response, no presence—just emptiness.”

Amira reached out to touch me, her touch serving as a reassuring calm in the midst of my inner turmoil. With worry in her voice, she questioned, "Why is your wolf running away from you?"

I shook my head, feeling as though a blanket of ignorance was bearing down on me. "I wish I knew," I said, my tone betraying my irritation. "He has never behaved in this way before. Even when he didn't want to speak with me, I could sense him—his presence, the power he has. Now though, it seems as though he has disappeared into thin air."

I tried again in vain to connect with him, and as I did, a searing anguish slashed through my mind like a dagger, leaving me with desperation clawing at my chest. It was so intense that I was left reeling in its aftermath.

With her words acting as a lifeline in the darkness that was about to swallow me, Amira's voice broke through the fog of anguish. With a fierce intensity, she searched my eyes and begged, "Logan, look at me. You must stop doing whatever it is you're doing. You are merely causing harm to yourself."

Her words cut through the veil of my disorientation, the intensity in her voice bursting through the walls of my shattered mind. I finally made the decision to give up on the pointless battle that was about to devour me and to stop trying to connect with my wolf.

I felt myself wrapped in Amira's warmth as the anguish started to fade, her presence a comforting salve to the scars that had damaged my emotional state. It was then that I understood the breadth of her care and the steadfast support she provided, even during my lowest point.

Something changed in me when I looked into Amira's teary eyes at that vulnerable moment. The sight of her suffering cut through the mist of my own agony and filled me with a great desire to protect her from more pain.

Without hesitation, I leaned forward, pressing my lips against her cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears as I kissed them away. I kissed her, silently promising her love and devotion beyond words, with a passion that sprang from desperation and need.

To my relief, she reacted immediately, her lips meeting mine with equal fervour. The warmth of our combined embrace was all that remained of our problems in that little time.

“I don’t want to ever see you crying,” I whispered against her lips, my voice thick with emotion. "You know that, don't you?"

She nodded, her emotions combining with mine as she put her face into my chest.

I kissed her forehead and said, "I missed you so much, amor."