He left her and she fell asleep.

By the time she woke up, the chains were gone.

Aurelia woke slowly, blinking against soft morning light filtering through a skylight in the stone ceiling. Her wrists were no longer shackled. Instead, she lay on a thick bed of furs, warm and clean, dressed in simple but fresh clothes. Her wounds had been cleaned and salve applied to her bruised ribs, a bandage wrapped carefully around her forehead.

It was disorienting.

No one had ever treated her like this.

The scent in the room was faint pine and something distinctly Alpha Thorian.

As if on cue, the heavy door creaked open. Thorian stepped in, carrying a wooden tray. His dark hair was wet from the morning, clinging to his temples, and his usual leather armor was replaced with a simple shirt, the sleeves rolled up.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice quiet.

She sat up, wary. “Why am I not chained?”

“Because you’re not a threat,” he said simply. “And I don’t chain women.”

Aurelia’s throat tightened. She had never met such a gentle man before.

He placed the tray on a table beside the bed. Stew. Bread. A glass of cool water.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he added. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

Her gaze stayed locked on his, searching for a trap. But there was none. Only calm sincerity.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

He pulled a chair beside her and sat. “You ran into my forest, bleeding and terrified. I want to know why. But I’m not going to beat it out of you.”

Aurelia lowered her eyes. That’s new.

“I’m not like the men who hurt you.”

“I smelled him on you,” Thorian added softly. “Whoever he is, he’ll never reach you again. Not while you’re here.”

She should have been relieved.

But instead, her heart clenched.

Because for the first time, sitting this close to him, she felt something strange and terrifying.

Heat stirred deep in her chest.

Her senses sharpened.

His scent wasn't just pine and leather and snow it was familiar. Addicting.

Her wolf stirred.

Mate.

She froze.

Thorian seemed unaware, or if he noticed anything, he didn’t mention it. He only pushed the bowl toward her. “Eat.”

She hesitated, then took a small bite of the bread.

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet strangely comfortable. He didn’t press her, didn’t interrogate her. Just watched her with an intensity that made her feel seen but not judged.

After a while, he spoke again. “You said nothing about where you came from. No name. No pack.”

She swallowed. “I don’t have a pack.”

He raised a brow. “Everyone comes from somewhere.”

“Not me,” she said. “I was... raised in a cage.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie.

Thorian studied her. “Then this is your first taste of freedom.”

She nodded slowly.

“Then let me show you what it feels like,” he said.

The days passed like a strange dream.

He didn’t lock her in.

He gave her space, but never too far, always watching, always present. She saw the way his warriors bowed to him, the way his people looked at him with quiet fear and loyalty. He was powerful yet every time he looked at her, his voice softened.

He brought her fresh clothes. Herbal teas for the pain in her side. Sat with her during meals. He told her about the Crescent Fang pack, about the land, about his mother who had died in childbirth, and his father who now ruled from afar, rarely interfering.

Sometimes they talked for hours.

Other times they just sat near each other, saying nothing.

But every time he was near, her senses screamed.

MATE.

And yet he never mentioned it.

Does he know? she wondered. Can he feel it too? Or is it just me?

There were moments when their eyes met, and something deep in his gaze softened, flickered like he did know. Like it frightened him too.

But he never said the words.

Never crossed the line.

Still, he was everywhere her protector, her healer, her quiet shadow.

One evening, as she sat by the fire, brushing her damp hair, he came in holding a folded cloak.

“It’ll get cold tonight,” he said, walking up to her. “I had this made for you.”

She took the cloak with shaking hands. Thick, dark, soft. Embroidered with subtle threads of silver in the shape of a moon.

Her throat tightened. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Because you deserve gentleness.”

No one had ever said that to her.

No one.

She blinked back tears and looked away.

“Sleep well, Aurelia,” he said, stepping back into the shadows. “You’re safe here.”

---

But safety, as always, was temporary.

The next morning, Thorian was gone.

A young servant girl with coppery curls entered her chamber in his place. “The Elder Alpha wishes to see you,” she said quickly. “Thorian’s father.”

Aurelia’s stomach dropped.

He had a father?

She followed the girl down long, silent halls of stone and moss-covered arches until they reached a tall door guarded by two warriors.

Inside, a grand hall. Dimly lit, draped in red and black.

At the far end stood a man in regal robes, his back turned to her, arms folded behind him.

“Come,” he said without turning.

She stepped forward.

The man finally turned.

Older. Eyes like Thorian’s, but colder. Greying at the temples, and a mouth made for power. And she could understand where Thorian took his cool features from. She almost fell for her mate's father.

“You’re the girl my son brought from the forest,” he said.

Aurelia answered “ Yes my lord.”

He walked forward and held out an envelope. “You will take this to him. And you will not open it.”

She took the envelope slowly.

But something about the weight of it made her hands tremble.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s hope your presence here does not... complicate things.”

As she walked back to her room, heart pounding, her fingers tightened around the envelope.

She waited until she was alone.

She broke the seal.

And inside was a gilded letter.

An official proposal of alliance.

Thorian’s name was listed.

So was the name of another Alpha’s daughter.

Her vision blurred.

Her mate...

Was being promised to someone else.