Lyanna
Islip back into the Lodge after walking Evie to her cabin, expecting the common room to be empty. Instead, Callum stands by the fireplace, staring into the flames. The warm light plays across his features, softening the hard lines of his face, and something flutters in my chest at the sight of him.
The welcome celebration has wound down. Wyatt’s stew still scents the air, and through the windows, the last pack members make their way back to their cabins under the starlit sky. But Callum hasn’t left. He’s waiting.
For me, I realize. He’s waiting for me.
I move to stand beside him, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “Quite the success,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Evie seems to be settling in well.”
“Thanks to you.” He shifts slightly closer, and I’m suddenly very aware of the narrow space between us. “You have a way of making people feel like they belong.”
The compliment warms me more than the fire. “I recognize the feeling of being an outsider. Everyone deserves a chance to find home.”
“Home,” he repeats, as though tasting the word. “Took me a long time to understand what that really means.”
“And now?” The question escapes before I can think better of it.
He considers for a moment, firelight flickering in his dark eyes. “It’s not walls or territory. It’s ... people. Connection.”
His fingers brush against mine as we both reach for the mantle. The contact is brief, barely a whisper of touch, but warmth spreads up my arm and settles somewhere behind my ribs. Neither of us pulls away.
“I worried I’d never find that again after leaving the High Court,” I admit, my voice softer than I intend. “That I’d always be caught between worlds, never fully belonging anywhere.”
“And now?” He echoes my question, moving a step closer.
“Now I’m starting to believe home isn’t where you’re from.” I meet his gaze, feeling the weight of the words. “It’s where you choose to stay.”
“Even when staying is complicated?” His voice has dropped lower, rough at the edges.
“Especially then.” My heart beats faster as the distance between us narrows. “The things worth having rarely come easily.”
His hand rises, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger against my cheek, callused and warm, and my breath catches. The touch is gentle, almost reverent, and I find myself leaning into it.
“Lyanna—“ he begins, his voice barely above a whisper.
We’re standing so close now. I can smell cedar and leather and something wild beneath—wolf. His eyes have darkened, fixed on my mouth, and my pulse skitters. I should step back. I should remember all the reasons this is complicated.
Instead, I sway toward him.
The door bangs open. Harper steps into the room, clipboard in hand, then freezes when she sees us. Her eyes go wide.
“Sorry—I just—paperwork—“ she stammers, already backing out. The door clicks shut behind her.
We spring apart, the spell broken. Heat floods my cheeks, and I press my palms against them as if that can will away the flush. My entire body hums with the echo of almost.
“That was ...” I manage.
“Interrupted,” Callum finishes, a rueful smile tugging at his mouth. He runs a hand through his hair and I notice his breathing isn’t entirely steady either.
A laugh escapes me, easing some of the tension. “Harper has terrible timing.”
“Or perfect timing, depending on how you look at it.” Something flickers in his expression—frustration or relief, I can’t tell which. Maybe both.
“Should we ...?” I gesture vaguely toward where Harper disappeared.
“Probably,” he agrees, but neither of us moves. The moment stretches between us, charged with everything we haven’t said.
“Callum.” I search his face, looking for answers I’m not sure I’m ready for. “What is this?”
