Page 8

EIGHT

KAEL

K ael watched from the edge of the council chamber, arms folded, back pressed to the stone pillar as if he could disappear into it.

The room buzzed with the low hum of political pleasantries—Shifter nobility exchanging barbed words wrapped in velvet tones, laughter that didn’t reach eyes, wine sipped like it wasn’t poison. Smoke curled from the ceremonial braziers, mixing with the scent of wildflowers and incense.

But Kael’s gaze didn’t move from her.

Selene stood near the central hearth, her head tilted slightly as she spoke with one of the Grimhart envoys—Calder, if Kael remembered right. The bear heir was all warmth and broad smiles, his posture relaxed, respectful, easy . Selene laughed at something he said. Not a polite court laugh, either.

A real one.

And Kael’s jaw clenched.

She wore a soft plum tunic that brushed the top of her boots, embroidered at the collar in Fenrir red and bone.

Her hair was twisted back today, exposing the curve of her neck—the spot just below her ear where the Mark flared every time they stood too close.

Where Kael’s gaze kept falling whether he wanted it to or not.

It had bloomed there almost immediately after the ceremony, as had Kael’s, just below his collarbone.

Like they were a dumbass couple who got matching tattoos.

He could feel her even across the room.

The bond hummed like a low, steady pulse. And the longer she stayed in someone else’s space, the tighter it wound.

He wasn’t supposed to care.

He’d told himself that a hundred times since the bond snapped into place.

But his wolf didn’t give a damn about logic.

It stirred under his skin, restless, teeth bared. The part of him that was primal—raw instinct and ancient blood—felt her presence like a drumbeat. And when Calder’s hand brushed her arm in passing, something snapped.

A low growl curled up Kael’s throat before he could stop it.

“Easy,” came a dry voice beside him.

He didn’t need to turn to know it was Nyra.

His sister leaned against the other side of the pillar, arms crossed, her short silver hair spiked and tousled like she’d just come in from the wind. Amber eyes glinted with far too much awareness.

“Pretty sure you just growled at the heir of House Grimhart,” she said. “Might want to dial that back before you start a blood feud in a room full of bored predators.”

Kael didn’t respond.

Nyra followed his gaze, then whistled under her breath.

“She’s adapting fast,” she said. “Not what I expected.”

“Yeah,” Kael muttered. “Me either.”

“She’s not scared of them.”

“No.”

“She’s not scared of you.”

He finally glanced at her. “What’s your point?”

Nyra smirked. “My point, big brother, is that you’ve got the eyes of a wolf on the edge. And you don’t usually look like you’re about to bite someone’s throat open over a woman laughing at a joke.”

“She’s bonded to me,” Kael said stiffly. “That makes her a target. That makes everything she does political.”

“Mmhm,” Nyra said, unconvinced. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He didn’t answer.

Selene moved again, this time toward the outer tables, where Lord Varyn lounged like sin draped in velvet. The bastard rose as she approached, offering a slight bow, a hand extended just a little too close, his smile a little too practiced.

Kael’s eyes darkened.

“You really hate him,” Nyra noted, following his line of sight.

“I don’t trust him.”

“No one does. That’s half the appeal.”

Kael pushed off the pillar. “I’m going to walk her out when this ends.”

“Oh, sure,” Nyra said with a smirk. “Walk her out. Guard her virtue. Maybe growl some more for good measure.”

Kael shot her a look.

She grinned unapologetically.

“Just saying, if the wolf’s already that close to the surface, maybe stop pretending she’s just a political inconvenience.”

Kael didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Because when Selene turned slightly, eyes sweeping the room, pausing when they met his—he felt it again. That low tug in his chest. The pull of something ancient, undeniable.

His wolf wanted her close.

Not because of the prophecy.

Not because of the Mark.

Because of her .

Later, after the meeting disbanded in the usual haze of murmured plans and false promises, Kael found her waiting near the courtyard doors.

She didn’t look surprised to see him.

“Come to drag me back to my room?” she asked, voice cool.

He shook his head. “No leash. Not tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Careful. I might start thinking you trust me.”

He started walking. She fell into step beside him.

The courtyard was quiet, the night air brisk, crisp with the scent of mountain snow. Twin moons hung low over the horizon, bathing the stone paths in silver.

Selene folded her arms, her voice more subdued now. “Why does he keep trying to talk to me?”

“Varyn?” Kael’s jaw tightened. “He likes things that don’t belong to him.”

She glanced sideways. “You’re not exactly subtle when you’re glaring, by the way.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

They walked in silence for a moment. Her steps slowed near the edge of the garden path.

Kael followed her gaze to the mist curling over the edges of the old forest beyond the wall.

“You still want out,” he said quietly.

Her voice came soft. “Every day.”

“You won’t survive if you go alone.”

“I’ll survive because I don’t plan to be anyone’s pawn again.”

Kael stepped closer.

“You’re not.”

She looked up at him. “Aren’t I?”

His fingers twitched at his side, the wolf pushing, wanting to reach for her. Just a brush. Just to ground her.

He didn’t.

Selene’s eyes lingered on him a beat longer, then she turned and walked back toward the hall.

Kael watched her go, the ache in his chest coiling tighter.

She was fire in a place that devoured warmth.

And gods help him, he didn’t know if he wanted to save her…

Or burn with her.