By the time night fully claimed the forest, I realized something unsettling.
Kael did not slow down because I was tired.
He slowed down because he chose to.
Not once did he ask if I could keep up. Not once did he offer help when the terrain grew uneven or the cold sharpened its teeth around my ankles. He moved like the world was something to be conquered, not navigated—long strides, efficient turns, no wasted motion.
When he finally stopped, it wasn't kindness.
It was strategy.
"There," he said, jerking his chin toward a rocky outcrop half-hidden by thick roots and low-hanging branches. "Shelter."
I stared at it. "That's barely a cave."
"It keeps the wind off," Kael replied. "Don't get sentimental."
I bit back a retort and stepped inside.
The space was narrow but dry, stone worn smooth by time. The scent of old fire lingered faintly—someone had used this place before. Not recently.
Kael dropped his pack and crouched, already working with flint and steel like I wasn't there.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ignore the way my body still buzzed with leftover awareness—of him, of the bond, of everything I'd lost and everything I didn't yet understand.
The bond pulsed faintly.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then—
Footsteps.
Not Kael's.
I stiffened instantly, heart slamming against my ribs.
Kael looked up, eyes sharp, hand drifting casually toward the knife at his belt. "Company," he muttered.
Three scents hit me at once.
Not pack.
Not rogue.
Something… else.
The first man stepped into view like he belonged there—tall, composed, his presence calm in a way that immediately set my nerves on edge. He wore dark traveling clothes, clean and well-fitted, and his posture spoke of discipline rather than brute force.
His eyes—steel-gray and unreadable—flicked from Kael to me with quiet assessment.
"Well," he said mildly. "This is inconvenient."
Kael straightened slowly. "Move along."
The man smiled faintly. "No."
Behind him, a second figure leaned against a tree, arms crossed, expression lazy but eyes bright with interest. He had lighter hair, sun-streaked and loose, a crooked grin already forming as his gaze lingered on me a fraction too long.
"Well, this got interesting fast," he drawled.
And then—
The third man stepped forward.
The forest seemed to respond.
He was tall—taller than Kael—and carried himself with effortless confidence, like he had never once questioned his place in the world. Dark hair fell neatly around sharp features, his jaw clean-cut, his eyes a striking shade of deep blue that caught the moonlight like polished glass.
Dashing didn't even begin to cover it.
He wasn't just attractive.
He was commanding.
Kael stiffened beside me.
I felt it—the sudden spike of irritation, sharp and unfiltered.
The bond flared too.
Not pain.
Jealousy.
The handsome stranger's gaze met mine—and unlike Kael's, there was no disdain there. No judgment. Just interest, warm and deliberate, as if he'd already decided I was worth paying attention to.
"Evening," he said smoothly. "Didn't expect to find anyone out here tonight."
Kael stepped forward, blocking half of my view. "You found nothing."
The gray-eyed man arched a brow. "You don't own the forest."
Kael's lips curled. "I don't share it either."
The lighter-haired man laughed. "Gods, you're charming. Who pissed in your fire?"
I felt it then—Kael's temper tightening like a drawn blade.
The handsome man's gaze flicked to Kael, then back to me. "You look cold."
It wasn't flirtatious.
It was… considerate.
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
His smile softened. "I didn't ask if you were fine. I said you looked cold."
Something in my chest loosened.
Kael noticed.
His jaw clenched.
The gray-eyed man cleared his throat. "We're not here to fight. Names first might help."
He nodded toward the handsome one. "That's Alaric."
Alaric inclined his head slightly, eyes never leaving mine.
"I'm Rowan," the lighter-haired man added cheerfully. "And this joyless statue is Silas."
Silas gave a polite nod.
Kael didn't offer his name.
Of course he didn't.
"We're traveling north," Silas continued. "Saw your firelight."
"There was no fire," Kael snapped.
Rowan shrugged. "Glow. Heat. Vibes. Whatever."
Alaric's gaze sharpened. "She's bonded."
The word hung heavy in the air.
Kael stiffened.
I froze.
Alaric tilted his head, studying me—not hungrily, not cruelly, but with unsettling clarity. "Recently rejected."
My breath caught.
"How—"
"I see it," he said quietly. "In the way you're holding yourself. In the way the bond flickers instead of settling."
Kael turned on him. "Watch your mouth."
Alaric didn't flinch.
"You're angry," Alaric observed calmly. "But not at me."
That was enough.
Kael lunged a step forward. "You think you can walk in here and—"
"And what?" Rowan interrupted lightly. "Say hello? Acknowledge reality?"
Silas's voice cut in, smooth and cool. "Enough. She doesn't need posturing."
He looked at me. "Do you want us to leave?"
The question stunned me.
A choice.
Kael shot him a look sharp enough to cut stone.
I hesitated—then shook my head slowly. "No."
Kael's hands curled into fists.
Alaric smiled—not smugly, not triumphantly—but like he understood something Kael didn't.
"We won't stay long," Alaric said. "Just until the night passes."
Rowan winked at me. "Promise we're great company."
Kael muttered something under his breath that sounded like a threat.
As the four men settled into an uneasy arrangement around the small shelter, the tension didn't fade.
It thickened.
Kael sat rigid, eyes tracking every glance Alaric sent my way.
Rowan cracked jokes and tossed comments like sparks, deliberately provoking Kael with lazy charm and open curiosity.
Silas remained quiet, observant, his gaze sharp but not intrusive—like he was cataloging everything for later.
And Alaric—
Alaric spoke to me.
Asked where I'd learned to track. Noticed the way I favored my left ankle. Offered me his cloak without hesitation.
When I accepted it, Kael's temper snapped.
"That's enough," he growled. "She doesn't need your charity."
Alaric met his glare evenly. "It's not charity. It's courtesy."
Kael surged to his feet. "You don't get to touch what's—"
He stopped himself.
The bond roared.
Every man felt it.
Rowan's grin faded. Silas's eyes sharpened. Alaric's gaze went cold.
"Careful," Alaric said softly. "You don't own her."
I stood.
The movement drew every gaze.
"I decide who touches me," I said quietly. "And who doesn't."
Silence.
Kael stared at me like he didn't recognize what he was seeing.
Something ugly flickered across his face—anger, frustration, something dangerously close to fear.
Alaric's lips curved faintly.
Rowan let out a low whistle. "Oh, I like her."
Kael snarled. "You don't get to like anything."
Alaric stepped closer—not to me, but close enough that Kael had to tilt his head to keep eye contact.
"You're losing control," Alaric said. "And it shows."
Kael's temper finally cracked.
"Say another word," he hissed, "and I'll—"
"And you'll what?" Alaric interrupted coolly. "Prove exactly why she shouldn't trust you?"
The bond pulsed violently.
Jealousy.
Rage.
Possession with nowhere to land.
I watched Kael struggle—really struggle—to leash himself.
And in that moment, I understood something vital.
Kael wasn't angry because he didn't want me near them.
He was angry because he couldn't stop me from being wanted.
By the time dawn brushed the horizon, the lines had been drawn.
Three new men.
Three different pulls.
And one rogue who was starting to realize—
He wasn't the only wolf in the forest anymore.