The bond no longer whispered. It roared.
Three nights after Darius knelt at the treeline, the heat returned—not echoes, but full, merciless fire. My body betrayed me in waves: skin too sensitive, core throbbing with empty ache, every breath pulling his phantom scent deeper into my lungs.
I barricaded myself in the largest tent—reinforced with shadow wards I'd learned to weave. Kira posted guards. "No one enters," she ordered. "Not even you, if she loses control."
But control slipped fast.
Sweat slicked my skin. I stripped the shift, pacing naked on furs, claws extended to score lines in the dirt floor. My wolf clawed at the inside of my mind: He should be here. Filling us. Marking us. Breeding us again.
Visions assaulted without mercy: Darius pinning me against the pack-house wall that stolen night before rejection—his mouth devouring mine, hand sliding between my thighs, fingers curling until I gasped his name. He'd stopped then. Pulled away. Whispered, "Not yet. Not like this."
Now the memory looped, cruel and vivid. My fingers drifted lower—almost of their own accord—tracing the slick heat between my legs. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood.
No. I yanked my hand away. He doesn't get to win this way.
But the bond laughed.
Midnight brought the worst wave. Pain knifed through my core; I dropped to all fours, shifting partially—black fur rippling, tail lashing, amber eyes glowing. A low, desperate whine escaped my throat.
Then—the wards shivered.
A shadow darker than mine slipped through.
Darius.
He stood at the tent entrance—human, shirtless, pants slung low, chest heaving from the run. Moonlight carved every ridge of muscle, every scar, the thick line of arousal straining against fabric.
"How—" I snarled, shifting back to human, scrambling for a cloak.
"Shadows answer to shadows now," he said, voice gravel-rough. "Your power called mine. Or maybe the bond did."
He stepped inside. The air thickened—his cedar-storm scent flooding me, mixing with my own arousal until I swayed.
"Get out," I hissed.
"You're suffering." His eyes raked me—dark, possessive, starving. "I can smell it. Taste it on the air. Let me help."
I laughed—bitter, breathless. "Help? Like you helped when you rejected me? Banished me? Left me to starve with your child inside me?"
Regret flashed across his face, but lust drowned it. He closed the distance—slow, deliberate. I backed up until my spine hit the tent pole.
"I was a fool," he murmured. "But I'm here now. Let me ease it. Just this once."
His hand lifted—hovered near my cheek. The bond surged; my body arched toward him involuntarily.
I slapped his hand away. "Touch me and I'll rip your throat out."
He smiled—dark, dangerous. "Try."
Challenge ignited something feral. I lunged—claws out, aiming for his chest.
He caught my wrists—stronger, faster—pinned them above my head against the pole. His body pressed flush to mine: hard chest to soft breasts, thick thigh wedging between my legs.
Heat exploded.
I bucked—half fight, half need. His growl vibrated through me.
"Fight me all you want," he rasped against my ear. "But your body knows the truth."
His free hand slid down—slow—tracing the curve of my hip, dipping to the swell of my belly. Fingers splayed possessively over the pup.
"Ours," he whispered. Reverent. Hungry.
Tears burned. Rage. Desire. I hated him. I needed him.
My hips rolled—seeking friction against his thigh. A whimper escaped.
He groaned—low, tortured. "Elara…"
His mouth crashed to mine—claiming, devouring. I bit his lip—hard—tasting blood. He growled approval, tongue sweeping in, dominating.
I kissed back—fierce, angry, desperate. Legs parted wider; his thigh pressed higher, grinding against my slick core.
Pleasure spiked—sharp, blinding. I moaned into his mouth.
He released my wrists—hands roaming. One cupped my breast, thumb circling the peaked nipple. The other slid lower—fingers finding my clit, stroking slow, firm circles.
I shattered—orgasm ripping through me like wildfire. Claws dug into his shoulders; I cried his name against his lips.
He held me through it—kissing my throat, murmuring, "Good girl. Let go for me."
When the aftershocks faded, reality crashed back.
I shoved him—hard. "Get out."
He stepped back—eyes black with wolf, chest heaving, erection straining painfully.
"I won't force more," he said hoarsely. "But this isn't over. The bond won't let it be."
He turned—slipped through the wards like smoke.
I collapsed—spent, trembling, tears streaming.
Revenge still burned.
But now… so did something else.
End of Chapter 10