The library still smelled of him.

Smoke, pine, iron. Aria leaned against the shelves, her lips tingling where his had been, her whole body thrumming as if her blood had caught fire. She tried to breathe, but each inhale dragged his scent deeper into her lungs.

He hadn’t gone far. She could hear him pacing just beyond the table, every step a jagged echo of restraint.

Finally, he stopped. “Aria…” His voice was hoarse, torn between hunger and regret.

She lifted her head, heart hammering. “Don’t you dare say it meant nothing.”

His golden eyes burned in the dim light. “It meant everything. That’s why I have to stop.”

The words cut sharper than claws. “Stop?” Her laugh was bitter, trembling. “You kissed me like the world was ending. You touched me like—like I was the only thing holding you together. And now you want to pretend—”

“I’m not pretending.” His growl was low, dangerous, more wolf than man. He stalked closer, stopping only when the bond’s pull crackled between them like lightning. “You think I don’t feel it? You think I don’t wake in the middle of the night with my wolf clawing at me to claim you?”

Her breath hitched.

His hand lifted as if to touch her cheek, then curled into a fist at the last second. “But if I give in now, it won’t be gentle. It won’t be enough. I’ll bind you to me in ways you may not be ready for. And if Kael is truly moving against us, if your bloodline is what they want—then giving in would paint a target on your back the size of Shadowpine itself.”

Aria swallowed hard. The truth in his words didn’t soothe the ache. “You keep saying you’re protecting me. But what if I don’t want protection? What if I want you?”

Silence stretched, thick and heavy. His gaze locked with hers, tortured and molten. For one wild heartbeat she thought he’d give in, drag her against him again and let the world burn.

But instead, he turned away, shoulders rigid. “I can’t.”

The tension followed them into the council hall the next morning.

The elders sat in a half circle, their faces carved with suspicion. Murmurs buzzed like angry wasps, words sharp enough that even Aria’s half-human ears caught fragments. Cursed bloodline. Weakness. Distraction.

Damian entered like a storm contained in skin. His gaze swept the chamber, daring anyone to challenge him. Aria trailed a step behind, her skin prickling under the weight of their stares.

Elder Theron cleared his throat. “Word spreads fast. Bloodfang and Ironfang seen together on the ridge. Old enemies do not unite without purpose. We demand to know your plan, Alpha.”

“My plan,” Damian said, voice steel, “is to strengthen our borders, call in allies, and remind every wolf under my command that Shadowpine does not bow.”

A scoff cut through the chamber. Marlowe. “Allies? Who would stand with us, knowing what lurks under your roof?”

Aria stiffened.

Damian’s growl rolled through the air, primal enough to silence half the room. “Choose your words carefully.”

Marlowe sneered. “You’ve blinded yourself with her. Can’t you see it? She’s a curse waiting to bloom. The rogues sniff at our borders because of her. Bloodfang wants her. And when the bond is complete, you’ll doom us all.”

The chamber erupted in shouts, some in agreement, others in defense.

Aria’s nails dug into her palms. She wanted to shout, to tell them she wasn’t a curse, she wasn’t a weapon for Kael or Bloodfang. But her voice felt caught in her throat, drowned under centuries of suspicion.

Damian’s fist slammed against the table, cracking the wood. The chamber fell silent. His eyes blazed gold, his wolf rising close to the surface. “She. Is. Mine. And anyone who challenges that challenges me.”

Marlowe flinched but didn’t back down. “Then you’ll fall together.”

That night, far beyond Shadowpine, Kael stood beneath a canopy of dead pines, his silver eyes reflecting firelight. Around him, rogues crouched low, their howls muffled by the dark. Beside him, the Bloodfang Alpha smirked, arms folded across his chest.

“She weakens him,” the Bloodfang growled. “Every moment he hesitates for her is a moment we grow stronger.”

Kael’s lips twisted. “Not weakens. Changes. The bond is a chain. One I intend to wrap around both their throats.”

He stepped forward, dragging his claws through the dirt to sketch crude lines — Shadowpine’s borders. His claws raked a line through the southern ridge.

“We’ll test them here. Burn their defenses. Force Damian to split his strength. And when his attention is divided…” His grin widened, sharp and cruel. “We take the girl.”

A chorus of growls rose, eager and hungry.

Kael’s gaze turned toward the horizon, toward the forest that hid Shadowpine. “Let them burn themselves in their own passion. I’ll be the one to snuff it out.”

Back in Shadowpine, Aria sat alone in her chamber, the moonlight painting silver across her skin. She touched her lips, still remembering the fire of his kiss, the ache of his rejection.

The bond thrummed between them, unrelenting. She knew he felt it too, wherever he was.

And she knew — with Kael and Bloodfang moving, with the elders circling like vultures — they were running out of time to deny it.