Kaelen hadn't slept. The hearth had burned down to a bed of dull embers, casting the lodge in shadows, but still he stood at his window with his hands braced on the sill and his eyes fixed on the black treeline. The forest outside whispered its usual lullabies—an owl's wingbeat, the groan of pine branches shifting in the mountain wind—but for him there was no peace. His wolf prowled beneath his skin like a caged storm, restless and snarling, its breath hot against his mind. It wanted out. It wanted her.
Every breath he took seemed to carry her scent. Even here, even now, she lingered on him like smoke, coiling through his veins, gnawing at his resolve. The bond pulled at him with relentless strength, a chain bound not around his wrists but deep inside his ribs, dragging him closer every time he thought to resist. He had believed himself stronger than this, had believed years of discipline and restraint would let him escape the trap of fate. But the night he found her broken body on the roadside, silver light pooling in her blood, he had known he was fooling himself. The Moon Goddess had chosen, and She had never once given him a choice.
But he could not yield. He would not. His pack was fragile, pulled thin by suspicion and weariness, pressed against hostile borders. To tie himself to a human would be ruin. Humans were soft, fleeting, ignorant of the laws that bound his kind. They were prey, not partners. To make one his mate would shake the foundations of his leadership, perhaps even split the pack apart entirely.
And yet, when he closed his eyes, he saw her as clearly as if she stood before him. The stubborn line of her jaw, the defiance that flashed through her fear, the fragile flutter of her pulse beneath his hand when he had steadied her in front of a room full of wolves who would happily have torn her apart. His wolf lashed against him, furious at his hesitation. She is ours. Claim her. Protect her.
"No," Kaelen muttered through his teeth. His fingers dug into the wooden sill until it groaned beneath the pressure. He told himself he could deny it, that he could push her away, that he could keep her safe by refusing her. But his body betrayed him. His muscles ached with the tension of restraint, every beat of his heart hammering her name into his veins.
He turned from the window, pacing the silent corridor. The floorboards creaked beneath his boots, echoing in the empty hush of the lodge. Most of the pack slept now, their whispers about the human mate tucked away until dawn. He meant to walk past, to burn the restlessness out of his body with distance, but before he realized it his steps carried him to her chamber door.
Kaelen cursed softly under his breath. The door was closed, but he didn't need sight or sound to know she lay within. The bond whispered it, humming like a second heartbeat, telling him of her shallow breaths, her restless dreams, her fragile, fluttering pulse. Against his better judgment, he set a hand on the door, closing his eyes. The wolf inside him stilled, drinking in the nearness of her, desperate for more. He let himself imagine—just for an instant—that things might have been different. That she might have chosen him freely, that she might have wanted this life, that he could take without fearing what it would destroy. The picture of it nearly undid him.
Then he wrenched his hand away as if burned. He would not doom her. Not to his blood-soaked world, not to the endless grind of law and expectation, not to the constant shadow of war. She deserved freedom. She deserved more than what he could give her. Even if denying her ripped him in two, even if it broke him down to the bone.
Morning came too bright for Eve. Sunlight spilled through the narrow window across the furs, painting the rough walls in gold. She sat up slowly, half hoping to find herself back in her own bed, her own world. For one weightless moment she told herself it had all been a nightmare. But the ache in her chest and the memory of dozens of eyes burning into her the night before quickly stripped away the illusion.
She moved to the window, looking out at the sweep of the forest. It stretched endlessly, green ridges climbing to jagged peaks, beautiful and terrifying all at once. Somewhere far beyond those trees was her life—her job, her tiny apartment, her world that suddenly seemed so fragile compared to this one. Yet when she imagined stepping into the trees alone, with the knowledge of what lurked in the shadows, her stomach knotted. She wasn't free. She was trapped.
A knock startled her. She barely had time to answer before the door opened and Rowan slipped inside. He carried a wooden tray with bread, a wedge of cheese, and a clay cup of water balanced with easy grace. He looked so different from Kaelen—less carved from stone, more alive, his amber eyes bright and his mouth quick to smile.
"Morning," he said, his voice warm. "I figured you'd be hungry."
Eve's suspicion sharpened instantly. She eyed the tray, arms folded. "What's in it?"
Rowan chuckled. "Bread and cheese. No tricks. If Kaelen wanted you dead, believe me, he wouldn't bother with food."
"That's… not exactly comforting," she muttered, but her stomach growled, betraying her. She took the bread and bit into it, cautiously at first, then with the greedy haste of someone who hadn't eaten properly in days.
Rowan leaned against the wall, studying her. His gaze didn't feel like the others'—not cold appraisal, not hunger, but curiosity. "You've caused quite a stir."
"I didn't ask for any of this," she snapped, harsher than she intended.
His smile faded, replaced with something softer. "No one ever does. That's the Moon's way."
She swallowed hard. "The Moon Goddess, right? That's what Kaelen called it."
Rowan nodded. "She weaves the bonds. No wolf escapes them. Not even Alphas."
"It's insane," Eve whispered. She set down the bread, her appetite souring again. "You expect me to believe some goddess just… decided I belong to him? That I'm supposed to give up my life and stay here forever?"
"Not expect," Rowan said quietly. His amber eyes deepened in the morning light, warm but steady. "But it is the truth. You've felt it, haven't you? The pull?"
Her breath stuttered. She wanted to deny it, to laugh in his face, but the words wouldn't come. She thought of the way her chest ached when Kaelen stepped too far from her, of the heat that seared through her at the slightest touch, of the strange emptiness she felt when she imagined walking away. She said nothing.
Rowan seemed to see her silence as answer enough. "You're stronger than you think. Most humans wouldn't last a night in a room full of wolves like ours. But you should understand something before it goes too far. The Moon Oath isn't kind. If Kaelen claims you before the pack, there's no turning back. Ever. Not for him. Not for you."
Her stomach sank. "And if I don't want it?"
Rowan hesitated. "Then the bond will fight you. It will pull and tear until one of you breaks."
The words hollowed her. She wanted to scream that it wasn't fair, that she hadn't chosen this, but beneath the fury there was a quieter fear—that she wasn't sure she could walk away, even if she tried.
Rowan's expression softened again. "I'll help you, if I can. You don't deserve their hatred."
She blinked at him, startled. "Why?"
His mouth curved into a faint smile. "Because Kaelen is my brother. And I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."
Her breath caught. She had no answer for that, and Rowan seemed to know it. He bowed his head slightly and slipped out, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the pulse of the bond that beat inside her like an unwelcome second heart.
Later, Kaelen threw himself into training with the pack. He pushed harder than usual, driving his body until his muscles screamed, until the slam of claws into wood and bone drowned out everything else. But nothing dulled the fire inside him. His wolf snarled at every moment of restraint, furious at his refusal. The bond was relentless. Eve's scent clung to him like a shadow.
When Rowan approached after the session, Kaelen already knew what he would say.
"She's stronger than you think," Rowan told him, voice pitched low so the others wouldn't hear.
"She's human," Kaelen growled back.
"She's yours," Rowan countered sharply. "And the pack will see it, if you lead. But if you keep pushing her away…" He dropped his voice further. "You might break her. Or yourself."
Kaelen closed his eyes, jaw tight. The words hit their mark too well. He wanted to believe his brother, wanted to think there was a world where accepting her wouldn't destroy everything he had built. But belief was weakness, and weakness got wolves killed.
"I will not bind her to this life," he said, rough with the effort of conviction.
Rowan studied him for a long moment. His amber gaze flickered with pity, or maybe understanding. Then he sighed. "The Moon doesn't care what you will or will not. She only gives. The rest is on us." He left Kaelen standing in the training grounds, breathing hard, the bond still gnawing at him from within.
That night, Eve wandered the lodge's corridors, restless. She told herself she was exploring, but really she was searching for air, for space, for something to quiet the storm in her chest. She followed the faint glow of firelight to the main hall. Wolves filled the benches, their laughter sharp, their words too quick and low for her to understand. The moment she stepped into the light, the sound faltered. Dozens of eyes fixed on her. Some burned with suspicion, some with hunger, some with contempt.
Every instinct screamed at her to retreat, but something stubborn rooted her in place. She lifted her chin and walked forward, even as her heart hammered so hard it hurt. Whispers trailed her like knives.
Then Kaelen stepped from the shadows. His silver gaze locked onto her and the air seemed to thicken. For one suspended heartbeat, neither of them moved. The bond surged, hot and merciless, flooding her with heat that made her knees weaken. She hated it. She hated how much she felt.
Kaelen's jaw tightened. He turned his gaze away, addressing the pack instead, his voice a blade. "Borders are watched. Training doubles at dawn. No one slacks."
The wolves muttered assent, but their eyes lingered on Eve until Kaelen's presence forced them down again. She wanted to scream at him, demand answers, demand why he looked at her like she was both his salvation and his curse. But the words withered on her tongue, because she already knew.
Later, alone in his chamber, Kaelen lay awake staring at the beams of the ceiling. The bond was tearing him apart, piece by piece. His wolf howled for her, his body ached with need, his soul burned with longing. Every instinct told him to claim her, to end this torment, to give in.
But he would not. He could not. For her sake. For the pack's. For his own sanity.
And yet even as he whispered that lie to himself, he knew the truth. It was already too late.