The moon was high, silver spilling across Shadowpine like spilled milk. Aria lay awake, staring at the ceiling beams, the echo of his kiss still burning on her lips. No matter how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself, the bond hummed restless under her skin, thrumming with want.

She tried to resist. She tried to breathe through it. But it was useless. The tug was relentless, insistent, pulling her like a tide toward one man.

Toward him.

A knock sounded at her door. Soft, careful — as if he already knew she’d be awake.

Her heart stumbled. “Damian?”

The door opened, and there he stood, shadows coiling around him like a second skin. His shirt hung loose at the collar, hair damp from the night air, golden eyes too bright to belong to any human man.

She sat up, pulse racing. “You shouldn’t be here.”

His gaze locked to hers, unreadable, molten. “I couldn’t stay away.”

The bond tightened between them, invisible yet merciless. Her chest rose and fell too quickly as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The soft click echoed like a promise.

“Aria,” he said, voice low, raw. “I’ve fought this every way I know how. Denial. Distance. Restraint. But the more I resist…” He broke off, hands fisting at his sides. “The stronger it grows. And it’s tearing me apart.”

Her breath caught. “Then stop fighting.”

He moved before she could think, his hand cupping her cheek, the heat of him searing her skin. The touch unraveled her, a single thread pulled loose until the whole fabric of her restraint was gone.

She rose onto her knees, her hand pressing against his chest, feeling the thunder of his heart. Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling, the bond flaring hot and bright.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he whispered, voice shaking with the weight of it.

“Then let’s ruin together.”

Their lips brushed — not yet a kiss, but the threat of one, the kind of closeness that left her dizzy and trembling. The air was thick with heat, the bond alive between them, sparking down her spine.

And then —

The horn sounded.

Three long, low blasts carried through the night. Not a call to council. Not a celebration. A warning.

Damian stiffened, his wolf flashing in his golden eyes. “The ridge.”

Before Aria could speak, he was already moving, ripping the door open and barking orders into the night. The hall outside erupted in chaos — warriors shifting, steel ringing, wolves sprinting into the darkness.

Aria’s heart pounded as she followed him into the hall. “What is it?”

“An attack,” he growled. “Stay here.”

But the bond tugged, fierce and undeniable. She knew before he did — whatever waited in the dark wasn’t just after Shadowpine. It was after her.