“I can handle it.”
“Can you?” His eyes narrow, tracking over my face, my shoulders, the tension I’m failing to hide. “Because right now you look like someone fighting their own magic.”
I step toward him, anger flaring hot in my chest. “You don’t know anything about my magic.”
“I know enough.” He doesn’t back away from my advance. If anything, his posture becomes more solid, more immovable. “I know it’s part of you. And I know when it’s struggling.”
We’re too close now. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body, see the slight flare of his nostrils as he scents the air between us. Close enough that something electric sparks where our energy fields touch.
“Why are you really here, Dane?” I ask, voice dropping. “To check if I’m a liability? To make sure I’m not breaking your precious perimeter?”
His jaw tightens. “I’m here because when I close my eyes, I still see you on that forest floor, with your magic tearing you apart from the inside.”
The raw honesty in his voice catches me off guard. There’s no pity there. No softness. Just fierce, possessive intensity.
“I don’t belong to you,” I say, but the words lack conviction.
“No.” He reaches out, not touching me but letting his hand hover near my arm, where the magic pulses closest to the surface. “But you belong with this pack now. With or without what’s between us.”
The air thickens. Charges. His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
“And what exactly is between us?” I challenge.
Dane’s expression darkens. “You tell me.”
The forest falls silent around us. No birds call. No wind stirs the branches. Just his breathing and mine, slightly out of sync.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t retreat. His body remains perfectly still, a predator’s patience in every line of him. He’s giving me space to decide—but the space itself feels like a trap. His eyes never leave mine, tracking every micro-expression that crosses my face.
My magic pulses under my skin, not from fear but recognition. It knows him now. Remembers the way he dragged me back from the edge, how his hands felt against my skin when he pulled me from that distortion.
I should walk away.
I don’t.
“This doesn’t change anything,” I say, voice low and rough.
“Doesn’t it?” His question hangs between us, tangible as smoke.
The heat of his body is magnetic. He’s still not touching me—deliberately keeping that fraction of space between us—but I feel him everywhere. My skin hums with awareness, my heart pounding so loud he must hear it.
I close that final distance, pressing my palm flat against his chest. His muscles tense beneath my touch, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just watches me with those amber-flecked eyes.
“I don’t do pack politics,” I whisper.
“And I don’t do half-measures.” His voice drops lower, scraping along my nerves. “So what happens now is your call, Nova.”
The sound of my name in his mouth breaks something loose inside me. I slide my hand up to his neck, feeling his pulse jump against my fingers.
“I want—“
He doesn’t let me finish. His hand captures my wrist, firm enough to hold but not to hurt. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him with controlled force.
“I know what you want,” he growls, lips hovering just above mine. “I’ve smelled it on you since we first met in the forest.”
Heat floods my body, sharp and demanding. I should be insulted by his arrogance, but my wolf recognizes the truth in it. Wants it.
I surge up, claiming his mouth with mine. The kiss is brutal—all teeth and hunger. He tastes like power and pine and something darker. His grip tightens, one hand tangling in my hair, angling my head exactly where he wants it.
