My Wild Beast-Chapter 169: She’s Back (3)

Standing still, Nova stared at her appearance in the bathroom mirror. What stared back at her wasn’t shocking. The smeared blood. The tangled locks of hair. Or the two-piece outfit she’d become accustomed to.

It wasn’t shocking. But a reminder of the surreal reality she was now in. This lavish bathroom with its sleek countertops, walk-in jacuzzi bath, and giant shower was all too much, too bright. Modern.

It was only months before she’d been missing these amenities, and now she despised everything about them. She wanted to be in the Beast World, with Yoa, and her true friends. Whether that meant to die by their side or not.

Now, she would be miserable for the rest of her life.

The rest of her life. That was a very long time if she lived to be at least eighty. In this humidity, Nova felt a chill run through her.

Her gaze flicked back to the smeared jaguar prints Veyra and some of the women had painted on her for the festival, showing their support for Yohuali’s mate. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she followed them up her body and locked eyes with the Serakai mark beneath her collarbone, reminding her of the world she belonged to, to the man she was no longer near.

Her fingers traced the constellation knot, then followed to the horizontal helices and shivered at the warmth ghosting her fingertips. Now that she was left alone, Nova gave in to it all. The grief, the pain, and utter anguish at losing everything she cared about.

Her knees buckled as she collapsed and cried out in despair. The flood gates opened, heart cracking and ribcage seeming to peel open as she clutched her knees and rocked back and forth, trying to comfort herself as she let herself feel every lick of anguish.

Time passed as she wept and cradled herself. She barely registered Bruce returning to the room, and emptying the bath and re-running it, until he lifted her and put her inside, still wearing the garments from the world she’d come from. She realised then, her grief turned her ice cold, her shoulders trembled more from the feeling, and the heat shocked her back to life.

A hollow shell of a life.

Nova stared at the water as the heat tried to sink into her bones. It was comforting. But she didn’t know whether she wanted to be comforted or let despair claim her again.

It was Bruce’s voice that finally dried her eyes and slowed down the tremors in her limbs. Her gaze flicked up to see him crouching by the side of the bath, holding a tissue out for her to blow into.

"Blow."

The gesture pulled at her heartstrings. She felt so weak and vulnerable, and this man, who’d been to war, served Chad, and secretly liked baking, quietly sat by and offered her some comfort.

Nova felt like a child, but she blew her nose into the tissue after Bruce gave her a stubborn, unrelenting look.

"Water?" His gruff voice calmed her more.

Nova shook her head. "Thank you," she croaked, looking down.

"Can I leave you to wash up?" Bruce asked now that she had calmed down, his eyes not leaving her as he searched her gaze.

Nova silently nodded. "Thank you," she murmured again, blinking away the tears.

Her head, eyes and nose hurt from crying. Her back was tense. She was covered in cuts and bruises from the battle. But it was her heart that hurt the most. Every few moments, it squeezed at the thought of Yoa. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Bruce accepted her nod, but as he stopped by the door, worry formed at his brows again. "I will be just outside this door. If you don’t answer me whenever I speak through it, I will assume the worst and rush inside here." His jaw clenched. "Is that clear?"

Nova’s eyes rose to meet his. She saw the fierceness in them. He meant it. It was then she realised he was concerned she would do something stupid. It was clear how miserable she was, and those in such despair led to woeful endings.

Nova didn’t care about the state she was in, the puffiness of her red eyes, the streaks of tears along her cheeks, clear for anyone to see the pain she was in. Yet, she found herself nodding once, offering Bruce, a man kinder than he looked, the smallest attempt at reassurance.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, silence, thick and heavy, settled over her. For a long moment, she simply stared at the bathwater lapping gently against her arms. The warmth tried its best to coax life back into her limbs, but nothing reached far enough.

With a trembling exhale, Nova peeled back the soaked fabric and put it aside. Her eyes locked with the painted jaguar prints, remembering Veyra’s laughter, Yoa’s joy. The red and gold burned brightly as he whispered the most loving words from the poet deep within her wild beast.

Her throat tightened painfully. The sting of tears lingered in puffy eyes, resurfacing. Removing these garments and washing away the prints felt like she was peeling away from him, their world, and the love she’d been surrounded by from the wildest of men.

A part of her whispered she was being ridiculous. She knew it was. The clothes didn’t represent anything. It wasn’t like she was severing the bond with her Serakai. But logic meant nothing right now. She was hurting.

Her heart screamed that every scrub of the soap was a betrayal. That stripping off the jaguar markings was the same as stripping him from her skin, her life and her future.

A broken sound escaped her. "I’m sorry," she whispered to no one and everyone.

The painted jaguar prints smeared into the water, blooming like dark petals before dissolving completely. She choked on a sob at the sight. The water stole them greedily until nothing remained. It felt like watching memories fade.

When she submerged herself fully, the Serakai mark faintly glimmered beneath the surface. Her breath hitched. Yoa had kissed that mark. Had sworn himself to her there. Had whispered forever against her skin.

Nova squeezed her eyes shut and resurfaced with a jolt, eyes wide as the water sloshed around, her hair clinging to her sides and breasts as her thoughts spiralled again.

Was the bond severed? Surely, she would know if her love, her beast, had fallen in battle. Her heart twisted, but there was also some fleeting hope. Should she grasp at it?

Nova stared at the bathroom in a world that had never been home, washing away everything that had ever made her feel like she belonged somewhere. But it didn’t wash away the two marks that were the most important, engraved on her skin, as a constant reminder of who she was connected to.

"Nova?" Bruce’s voice rumbled through the door.

She startled slightly but answered immediately, eyes burning. "I’m here."

"Good." His tone softened almost imperceptibly. "Keep talking if I ask again."

She nodded even though he couldn’t see. "Okay."

She scrubbed her arms. Her shoulders. The dried blood on her legs. The grime beneath her fingernails. Every stroke stung, but none of it compared to the hollowness yawning inside her chest. By the time she finished, the water was tinted a murky bronze.

She no longer looked like the warrior who’d fought beside Yoa. She looked like Nova Winslow, small and now lost in a world she wanted nothing to do with.

After pulling the plug, she rose shakily, grabbing one of the plush white towels. It swallowed her body when she wrapped it around herself, the softness almost an insult. Nothing soft existed in her anymore.

She stepped out of the bathroom, hair dripping, skin reddened from the heat, eyes subtly swollen despite her attempts to hide them. Bruce was exactly where he promised he’d be—standing with his back to the bathroom, arms folded, spine straight, gaze fixed forward like a sentinel.

Without turning, he opened the wardrobe for her, sliding the doors aside with quiet care. "Choose whatever you like," he said. "I won’t look."

It was clear he was staying to ensure Nova didn’t do anything stupid. She hovered in the doorway for a heartbeat, towel clutched tight around her. The room felt too big and bright, foreign even though she’d slept there before. She was now like an empty shell walking through it.

She swallowed, voice a thin whisper. "Okay."

But even as she stepped forward to pick an outfit, she couldn’t stop the ache inside her, the quiet, brutal truth. With the jaguar paints washed away, along with the reminder of the celebration and blood from the battle, she felt further from Yoa than ever before.

And more alone than she had words for.