Chapter 11: Echoes of the Past
Kael and Ronan didn't speak on the walk back.
The silence was comfortable in a way Kael hadn't expected. Their scents were so thoroughly mixed now—sweat, cum, blood, pine—that Kael couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Every step reminded him of Ronan inside him, deep and relentless, and his hole still leaked slowly, warm and slick, making his thighs rub together in a way that kept him half-hard despite the soreness.
They reached the pack border just as the first light of dawn touched the sky.
That's when the other scent arrived.
Familiar. Polished. A little too clean.
Zane Thorne.
Kael tensed. Ronan felt it immediately—stepped half in front of him, shoulders squared, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
Zane stepped out from the trees like he'd been waiting politely. Tall, lean, dark hair neatly tied back, leather coat open over a crisp shirt. He looked every inch the polished alpha from a powerful neighboring pack—confident, composed, dangerous in the quiet way that didn't need claws to cut.
His eyes found Kael first. Softened for half a second—something almost wistful—before they flicked to Ronan with cool assessment.
"Kael," Zane said, voice even, almost gentle. "It's been a while."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Zane."
Ronan didn't growl again, but his stance said everything—body angled protectively, ready to move.
Zane raised a hand in a small, placating gesture. "I'm not here to fight. I came because the council sent word. The summit… people are talking. Two alphas from different packs sharing a bond like that? It's rare. Unstable, they say. They want assurances Ironfang is still… stable."
Kael crossed his arms. "Ironfang is fine. Tell them to mind their own borders."
Zane's gaze lingered on the bruise on Kael's neck—the one Ronan had left with teeth and fingers. Then on the way Kael stood a little too close to Ronan, shoulders almost touching.
"I can see that," Zane said quietly. No sneer. Just something heavy in his tone. "I just thought… if you needed an ally. Someone who understands pack politics. Someone who remembers how things were before."
Before Ronan. Before the rogue scent that changed everything.
Kael felt Ronan stiffen beside him.
"I don't need reminding," Kael said flatly.
Zane nodded once. Slow. Like he expected the answer but still hoped.
"I know. I just… I never stopped thinking about what could have been." His eyes met Kael's—open, almost vulnerable for a second. "If you ever want to talk. Alone. Without… complications." He glanced at Ronan. "I'm still here."
Ronan took a single step forward. Voice low. Dangerous. "He's not interested."
Zane's smile was small. Sad. "That's for him to decide."
He turned. Walked back into the trees without another word.
The silence that followed was different—sharper.
Kael exhaled slowly.
Ronan turned to him. Eyes searching. "You know him."
"Old alliance," Kael said. "Old history. Nothing more."
Ronan studied him. "He wants more."
Kael met his gaze. Steady. "I don't."
Ronan stepped closer—close enough that Kael could feel his heat again. Close enough to smell the faint trace of last night still on him.
"Then prove it," Ronan murmured. "Right here."
Kael's hole clenched. Fresh slick leaked out.
He grabbed Ronan by the shirt. Pulled him in.
Their mouths crashed together—hard, claiming, no hesitation this time.
Ronan groaned into the kiss. Hands sliding under Kael's shirt, nails dragging down his back.
Kael pushed him against the nearest tree—rough, possessive. Yanked Ronan's jeans open. Dropped to his knees.
Ronan's cock sprang free—thick, already hard, leaking.
Kael took him in his mouth—deep, no teasing. Swallowed around him until Ronan hit the back of his throat.
Ronan cursed—hands in Kael's hair, hips jerking forward.
"Fuck—Kael—"
Kael sucked hard. Bobbed fast. Let Ronan fuck his mouth while he gripped Ronan's thighs, claws pricking skin.
Ronan came fast—hot, thick, spilling down Kael's throat with a broken moan.
Kael swallowed every drop. Pulled off slowly. Licked his lips.
Then stood. Kissed Ronan again—letting him taste himself.
"That's mine," Kael said against his mouth. "You're mine."
Ronan's eyes were dark. Blown. Voice wrecked.
"Then take what's yours."
They stumbled deeper into the trees—clothes half-off, hands everywhere, mouths hungry.
No more words.
Just need.
Just them.
And somewhere in the distance, Zane's scent lingered.
Watching.
Waiting.
But for now—Kael had made his choice.
And Ronan was it.