This is pure hunger and claim and the dangerous edge of restraint about to snap.
The stone in my pocket burns hot against my leg. Responding to every spike in my pulse.
I break away, breathing hard. “We can’t.”
His hand remains in my hair, keeping me close. “We already are.”
I push against his chest. This time, he lets me go—physically. But his eyes say he’s not letting me walk away. Not again.
“I need to check the northern markers,” I say, retreating a step.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
I turn without answering.
The forest shifts behind me, the pattern tightening with every step.
Faelan built this net to catch emotion.
And I just gave it something to chase.
Chapter 18
Nova
Imove quickly through the trees, not to outrun Dane—but to stay ahead of him.
He’s following. I can feel it in the shift of the air, the faint bite of pine and heat on the wind. But I’ve been gaining distance for the last twenty minutes, taking routes that require agility over size. By now, he’s at least a quarter mile back.
Stubborn Alpha.
The forest tightens around me—pressure building in the branches, scent trails snapping sharp. My markers thrum louder now, the northern boundary pulsing with energy that wasn’t there last night.
The stone in my pocket stays hot. Not burning. Just—alive.
My feet crunch through fallen leaves as I approach the third marker stone. The small obsidian shard I placed there yesterday should be glowing faintly, recording energy fluctuations in the area.
Except it’s not just glowing.
It’s vibrating.
I crouch down, reaching for it. The air feels wrong here—thicker in my lungs, pressing against my eardrums. I’ve felt this before, near old fae crossings. But never this intense, never this ... hungry.
Something flickers in my peripheral vision.
I spin, scanning the treeline. Nothing moves. No sound beyond normal forest noise.
But the ground beneath my feet doesn’t feel solid anymore.
I stand quickly, backing away from the marker. Too late. The pressure around me increases—a physical weight pushing inward from all sides. The trees waver, their edges blurring like they’re underwater.
“Dane!” I shout, my voice sounding muffled even to my own ears.
The stone in my pocket pulses in sync with my heartbeat. Not a tool anymore—a beacon. A homing signal.
The realization hits me cold: I’ve been carrying the key all along.
The air cracks sharply. The fabric of reality splits around me.
