I close the gap between us. One hand on her jaw, tilting her face up. The other finds her hip, fingers pressing into the curve of her waist, pulling her flush against me.
Her skin burns under my palm, soft and electric. Eyes like storm clouds stare up at me, steady and unwavering, holding secrets I want to uncover. No fear. No submission. Just raw challenge that makes my blood pound harder.
My thumb traces the line of her cheekbone. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Her pulse hammers against my palm where it rests at the curve of her throat.
“You want me to be a river?” My voice comes out rough, barely recognizable. “Rivers destroy everything in their path.”
“Only when they’ve been dammed too long.”
Lips part slightly as I lean in. The scent of her fills my lungs—honey and citrus and wild magic that makes my wolf howl. Everyinstinct screams to claim, to mark, to make her understand exactly what she’s started.
She doesn’t soften. But she doesn’t stop me either.
The kiss is violent. It’s desperation and fury and need all tangled into one breathless collision.
She tastes like wild honey and something darker—magic and danger and everything I shouldn’t want. My tongue sweeps across her lower lip, demanding entry, and when she opens for me, I take. Claim. Devour. I map every corner of her mouth like I’m memorizing territory I never want to leave.
My hand slides into her hair, fisting the silk of it, anchoring her against me. Her fingers curl into my shirt, pulling instead of pushing, dragging me closer like she can’t get enough either. The moan that escapes her throat—low, raw, needy—sends fire straight down my spine.
I press her backward until her shoulders hit the pine tree. Her body arches into mine, soft curves against hard muscle, and the friction makes me growl against her lips. She swallows the sound. Answers it with teeth—catching my lower lip, biting down just hard enough to sting.
The sharp pain only makes me want more. Want everything.
My free hand slides down her side, gripping her hip, hauling her tighter against me until there’s no space left between us. Until she can feel exactly what she does to me. Her breath hitches. Her nails rake down my chest through the fabric.
For three heartbeats—or three hundred—we’re lost in each other. No pack politics. No Faelan. No fractures. Just this.
Then she breaks away. Steps back. Her breath comes fast, but her eyes are clear. Too clear.
“Not like this,” she says. “Not now.”
“Nova—“
“This isn’t what either of us needs.” She holds up a hand when I step forward. “You’re scared and angry and looking for somewhere to put it. I won’t be your distraction.”
The words hit like ice water. Because she’s right. And because she’s wrong. This isn’t just fear looking for an outlet. This is something else entirely—something I’m not ready to face.
“Find another way to burn off your fear.”
She turns and walks back toward the forest line. Every step measured, controlled, Like she didn’t just set my world on fire and walk away from the flames.
I don’t follow. Don’t call after her.
I stand alone at the edge, tasting her on my lips, feeling the shift inside me. The kiss branded something into my chest that I can’t ignore. Can’t explain. Can’t outrun.
This isn’t about wanting her anymore. It’s about needing what she knows. What she sees. The way she cuts through my bullshit and names the things I’ve been hiding from myself.
But I can’t lead from the shadows she leaves behind.
If I want to save this pack, I need to stop pretending I don’t feel the fracture.
And stop lying about where it starts.
Even if that means admitting the truth I’ve buried since the first time I caught her scent.
She’s not the threat.
She’s the anchor.
