“Hell of a dream.” His golden eyes glint with familiar mischief. His gaze tracks over my face, then drifts to my shaved head—the short stubble all that remains of my once long hair. His expression softens with something that looks dangerously like tenderness. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,”
My heart gives a little flip, and I hate how much I want him right now.
We stare at each other for a long moment, the bond humming between us like a tuning fork. I can feel his desire, his careful restraint, his desperate need to touch me.
“Can I come in?” he asks, then adds with a crooked smile, “Or should I just stand in this hallway all night making inappropriate comments about our psychic sex life?”
I step aside without a word, and he enters my room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
He leans against the door, watching me. “So, we’re true mates.”
“Apparently.”
“How do you feel about that?” His voice is carefully neutral, but I can feel his nervousness through the bond.
I consider the question honestly. Terrified. Exhilarated. Confused. Desperate. “I don’t know,” I say finally. “This isn’t… I never planned for this.”
“Plans change,” he says gently, taking a step closer. “The question is, what do we do now?”
I look at him—this beautiful, complicated man who saved my life and somehow managed to slip past every wall I’ve built around my heart. The bond pulses between us, warm and certain and absolutely terrifying.
“I don’t know,” I repeat, but this time it comes out as a whisper.
He closes the distance between us, his hands coming up to frame my face with infinite gentleness. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” he murmurs. “But we can’t pretend it doesn’t exist anymore.”
“No,” I agree, leaning into his touch despite every instinct that screams danger. “We can’t.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll deal with the pack, with your duties, and with whatever complications this creates.” His thumb traces the scar on my cheek. “Tonight, can I just hold you?”
I study his face, seeing no pressure there, no demand for more than I’m ready to give.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “But just for tonight.”
He smiles then, soft and beautiful, and leans down to brush his lips against my forehead in the gentlest of kisses.
The bond sings between us, and for the first time, I let myself imagine what a future with someone—with Kier—might look like.
It’s terrifying.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
KIER
Imight be interested in joining Shadowmist, but twenty years as a lone wolf didn’t prepare me for this.
The Shadowmist den pulses with constant activity—wolves moving through corridors, conversations echoing off stone walls, the perpetual hum of pack life that never seems to stop. After three years of silence broken only by screams and torture, followed by weeks of just Lithia’s voice, the sheernoisesets my teeth on edge.
I lean against the balustrade overlooking the training yard. Below, pack members spar in organized chaos. They move with the easy familiarity of wolves who’ve known each other for years, finishing each other’s movements, communicating with glances and subtle shifts in posture.
I don’t belong here.
The thought sits heavy in my chest, a truth I’ve been avoiding for days. As much as I wish to stay, I can’t become another Levi, watching the woman I love ignore me.
Shadowmist has been nothing but welcoming—but hospitality isn’t the same as belonging.
A wolf steps beside me carrying two mugs that smell of something strong and bitter. Hecarries a trace of Lithia’s scent. I glance sharply at him, relaxing when I see it’s Dane. Lithia’s twin has her same sharp bone structure and pale blue eyes, but where she radiates controlled fury, he carries a gentler warmth.
