Rhett's gaze drifted to her hand, where the mark pulsed faintly beneath the moonlight. His voice was quieter now, almost reverent.
"There's more I didn't say inside. About the Lunaris Bond."
Ayla looked at him warily, hugging her knees tighter. "Of course there is."
He gave a small, humorless smile. "It's not just some magical connection between two people. It doesn't just tie us together. It binds us as a pair—Alpha and Luna. It's a calling. A claiming. It's supposed to happen only when both are ready."
Ayla's heart pounded in her chest. "I'm not a Luna. I'm not even part of your pack."
"You are now," Rhett said. "Whether you want to be or not. The bond changed that."
She shook her head, rising to her feet. "No. That's not possible. I'm not like you."
"You're more than you think, Ayla." He stood too, eyes locked on hers. "Your blood… it's old. And that Shadowkin that attacked you? It sensed it. Just like the bond did."
She stared at him, fury and fear twisting inside her. "So what? I'm supposed to just accept that I'm part of… this supernatural soap opera where I'm fated to be some Alpha's mate? That my choices don't matter?"
"You think I don't wrestle with this every second?" Rhett snapped, the mask finally cracking. "You think I wanted this either? I've spent years avoiding every prophecy, every whispered legacy about 'fated pairs' and 'Lunar bloodlines.' Then you came out of nowhere, and everything in me started changing."
He stepped closer, but Ayla stepped back.
"I can feel what you feel," he said, voice low. "That confusion. That fire. That pull that won't stop no matter how much you try to ignore it. And I hate it too sometimes. Because it means I'm not in control anymore."
She swallowed hard. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, the bond between them like a thread pulled taut.
"I don't want to need you," she whispered.
"I know. But you do."
And gods help her, he was right. Every time she ran from him, some force pulled her back. Every time she tried to steel herself against the heat of his gaze, her body betrayed her.
She turned her face away, trying to gather her thoughts, but his voice came again, quieter now, filled with vulnerability.
"I'm not asking you to be anything you're not. I just… I need you to know I'm in this with you. You're not alone in it."
Slowly, she turned back to face him, her defenses slipping.
"I'm scared, Rhett," she admitted.
"So am I," he said. "But fear doesn't make the bond weaker. It just means we're human underneath it all."
Ayla hesitated, then stepped forward, just a little. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body, close enough to let her guard down.
Their eyes met, and something cracked open between them.
He didn't touch her. Not yet.
But the pull was there. Irresistible.
And this time, she didn't run from it.
Rhett's presence pressed against her Like gravity.
"I don't know how to be what you need," she said, barely above a whisper.
Rhett stepped closer, his voice deep. "You don't have to be. I just need you."
Her gaze searched his, seeing the truth there, raw and unhidden. He wasn't asking for submission or promises. He was just asking for her.
Ayla exhaled shakily. "I keep trying to run away from this. But all it does is make me want you more."
That pulled a soft, broken sound from his throat. "Then we're both failing miserably."
She didn't know who moved first, only that suddenly his lips were on hers, hot and urgent. It wasn't gentle it was days of fear, frustration, and want finally breaking free.
Their mouths met in a collision of breath and longing, her fingers tracing his body, his hands framing her face like she might disappear.
He lifted her and backed her against the cabin wall, their bodies pressed close. Heat rose between them. Every brush of his skin against hers lit something inside her, wild and aching.
His hands slid under her shirt, moving across her back, and she gasped against his lips. The mark on her hand warming, pulsing with a silver glow.
"Ayla," he murmured, forehead resting against hers. "Tell me to stop if—"
"Don't," she said, voice trembling. "Please, I don't want you to stop."
Rhett kissed her again, slower this time. His fingers slid down to her hips, gripping like he didn't trust himself to let go.
She tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. "I want this. I want you."
He lifted her with ease, carrying her into the cabin and toward the bed, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, their mouths never parting.
Clothes began to fall away, his shirt first, then hers. He trailed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, until she trembled beneath his touch.
When his hands found her bare skin, when her fingers slid into his hair and her back arched to meet him, it felt like the world had narrowed to just this moment. Just them.
They sank onto the mattress, breathless and tangled.
But just as his hands slid down her side, just as her legs pulled him closer
BANG.
The door slammed open.
They froze.
Rhett rolled off her instantly, instinct and protectiveness snapping into place as his body shielded hers. Ayla yanked the blanket over herself, heart racing not from passion now, but fear.
Standing in the doorway, chest heaving, was Ewan—Rhett's second-in-command. His face was pale, blood splattered across his shirt.
"We've got a problem," he said, voice grim. "The Elders know about the bond. And they're coming."
The air turned cold.
Rhett cursed under his breath and reached for his clothes. "We'll finish this later," he said, eyes dark with a promise that made her chest ache.
Ayla sat up, breath shaky, clutching the blanket to her chest as her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
Later.
But something told her "later" might not come as easily as they'd hoped.