Page 3 of Shifting Hearts

THREE

Only One Bed

Paris

T he first thing I notice when I wake is warmth.

Real warmth. Not the brittle heat of fever or the biting burn of rejection, but something steady. Heavy quilts weigh down on me, the air thick with the scent of woodsmoke, pine, and… something else.

Him. Ranger.

My lashes flutter open and for a moment, the world blurs. Shadows ripple across rough-hewn walls, the orange glow of firelight painting everything in gold. A low creak of wood answers the hiss of flames.

I blink until the cabin comes into focus.

A small room. Four walls of timber, the seams chinked with resin.

A woodstove crackles in the corner. A battered table, two chairs, a stack of split logs by the door.

And the bed - broad, hand-carved, and its frame scarred by age but sturdy.

The mattress sags beneath me, piled with quilts that smell of cedar and smoke.

And him.

He sits in the lone chair, half-shadowed, elbows on his knees. His dark hair falls loose around his face, his jaw rough with stubble. His eyes, stormy and unreadable, are fixed on me like he’s been watching for hours.

Maybe he has.

“You’re awake.” His voice is low, rough.

My throat is dry, my lips cracked. I manage a whisper. “Where…?”

“You’re in my cabin.”

I shift slightly, the quilts heavy, the fabric scratchy against my skin. Pain throbs deep in my chest, but it’s muted, dulled by exhaustion.

“Why?”

“You’d be dead if I left you.” His answer is simple. Flat. But his eyes burn, even if the rest of him doesn’t move.

I swallow hard, my gaze flicking around the room again. The reality settles like a stone in my gut. There’s no second bed. No couch. No pile of furs on the floor. Just this.

My cheeks heat.

Only one bed.

And I’m in it.

He notices the way my eyes linger. His jaw flexes, and he leans back in the chair, deliberately putting space between us.

“You needed rest.”

It’s the safest explanation, but it doesn’t erase the awareness buzzing in the air. The bond hums low between us, steady and insistent, like a song only we can hear. I press the quilt tighter to my chest, trying to anchor myself. I also have to hide my nudity from him.

“Did you undress me?”

“The dress was wet,” he mumbles. “I didn’t do anything.”

It wouldn’t have mattered. I clearly wouldn’t have known but it’s nice to hear the words.

“You should have left me,” I whisper, shame creeping hot into my throat. “You don’t understand. I’m nothing now. Broken. Rejected.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his gaze sharpens. “You’re alive. That’s what matters.”

I laugh, bitter and hollow. “Alive? My panther’s gone. She won’t come when I call. She’s silent.” My eyes sting, tears threatening. “What good am I without her?”

He studies me, long enough that I shift under the weight of it. “She isn’t gone. She’s hurt. Same as you. Just give her some time. She needs to heal too.”

I want to believe him. Goddess, I want to. But Gabriel’s face flashes in my mind. The way he looked at me like I was unworthy, like even fate had made a mistake in choosing me. The rejection still burns in my chest; the bond’s violent severing an echo I can’t silence.

Tears spill down my cheeks despite myself. I drag the quilt higher, burying my face for a moment. “You don’t know what it feels like. To be chosen and then….” My voice cracks. “To be cast aside in front of everyone. My mother looked away. My father didn’t move. Not one of them stopped him.”

For the first time, his jaw softens. His hand twitches on his knee, like he wants to reach for me, but he doesn’t. He holds himself still, his restraint iron.

“I know what it feels like,” he says finally. “To be cast out. To be left behind.”

I glance up sharply, meeting his eyes. There’s something there, something raw and dark, that makes my breath catch. But he looks away before I can read it.

The fire crackles and silence stretches between us. Then I notice his hands. Big, scarred, and calloused from years of labor. They rest on his thighs, but even from here, I can feel the heat they carry.

My body betrays me. A pulse low in my belly. A tightening in my chest. The bond stirs, whispering, pulling, demanding. I clench the quilt tighter, trying to still the rush of heat.

No. Not like Gabriel. I won’t give fate the chance to break me twice. But this is nothing like before. Heat and arousal pulse through me. I never felt this way with him.

My eyes keep drifting to him. To the way the firelight gilds the line of his jaw. To the breadth of his shoulders, the ripple of muscle under skin. To the scar slashing across his ribs, half-hidden by shadow.

He shifts, and I do to. the quilt slips lower on me, exposing the top curve of my breasts. His eyes flick there for just a heartbeat before he jerks them away, his jaw tightening.

The air thickens and my pulse skitters. This is wrong. This is dangerous. And yet, no matter how much I fight or deny, this is also inevitable. Unless he also refuses me and our mate bond. I know I won’t survive that a second time, especially not as weak as I am now and without my animal.

I clear my throat, desperate for distraction. “Why did you leave the pack?”

His eyes snap back to mine. For a moment, silence. Then he exhales slowly, leaning back further into the chair, shadows deepening across his face.

“Because it wasn’t home anymore.”

I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate. The firelight glints in his eyes, and I know there’s more. Layers of pain, of bitterness. But he won’t hand them over easily. Something in me aches at that.

He gave me his bed. He kept me alive. He doesn’t even want to be near me, yet he hasn’t left my side. And still, he hides himself away like the trees outside, impenetrable, and endless.

The bond hums, hungry for connection.

I turn my back on him and curl tighter under the quilt, closing my eyes as though I can shut it out. But even in the darkness, I feel him. His presence fills the room. His scent lingers on the blankets. His silence is louder than a scream.

And for the first time since Gabriel shattered me, I don’t feel completely alone.

Even if it terrifies me.

When I wake again, I push myself up slowly, the quilt slipping, the room tilting around me. My muscles protest, weak from days of lying still. My arms tremble, and I nearly collapse back onto the mattress.

Before I can, he’s there.

Ranger moves faster than I expect, crouching beside the bed, his hand shooting out to steady me. His palm braces my bare arm, hot against my chilled skin.

The moment his skin touches mine, everything stops.

The bond surges like lightning, slamming into me so hard I gasp. Heat floods through me, sharp and electric, racing along every nerve. My chest tightens, my heart stutters, and for a heartbeat, I feel whole again.

Alive.

Wanted.

I look at him, wide-eyed, and I see it hit him too. His jaw locks, his pupils dilate, and his breath catches as the same current rips through him. For the briefest second, his hand tightens, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away.

My breasts are bared to his gaze, but he doesn’t look down, his gaze locked on my lips. My lips part. The word yes burns at the back of my throat though I don’t even know what I’m agreeing to.

Then he jerks back like I’ve burned him.

His hand drops from my arm as though touching me cost him something unbearable. He stumbles to his feet, muscles taut, every line of him rigid with rejection. His jaw clenches hard enough to crack bone as he covers my nudity with the quilt.

“I told you,” he growls, his voice rough and ragged. “I’m not him. I’m not going to force this.”

And then he turns, striding across the cabin. His chair scrapes against the floor as he shoves it back, pacing like a caged animal.

The warmth vanishes the instant his skin leaves mine. The bond recoils, collapsing in on itself, leaving me colder than before.

Unwanted. Again.

Shame crashes through me, heavier than the quilts. I curl back into the mattress, pulling the blanket to my chin, trying to erase the heat still tingling in my arm where he touched me.

For one stolen moment, I felt alive. I felt like maybe I wasn’t broken, like maybe I could still be someone’s choice. And then he looked at me the way Gabriel did. Like I was something to step away from.

Tears sting my eyes, but I bite them back. I won’t cry again. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.

The bond hums, restless, mocking me.

He doesn’t want me. Not him. Not Gabriel. Not anyone. I curl tighter under the quilt, closing my eyes, swallowing the ache in my chest. Maybe the Goddess made a mistake twice.