The night after I shoved Ronan away, sleep refused to claim me. My body lay tangled in the sheets, restless, but my mind refused to quiet. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt him again—his heat, his strength, the way the bond had pulsed like fire between us.
I hated it. Hated how vividly my body remembered his touch, how even my wolf whimpered at the distance I had forced between us.
You want him, she whispered, her voice a sultry echo in the back of my head. You crave him, and it terrifies you.
"I don't," I hissed under my breath, digging my nails into my palms until the sting replaced the ache. "I don't want him."
Then why are you trembling?
I pressed the pillow over my face, muffling the ragged breath that tore from me. This bond wasn't fair. It wasn't supposed to bind me to the man I loathed, the Alpha whose choices had cost me everything.
When dawn broke, I decided one thing with brutal certainty: I would avoid him.
Completely.
The training grounds were alive with movement when I arrived. Warriors sparred, their grunts and growls filling the air. My body yearned to dive into the fight, to burn away the restless energy clawing through me, but my eyes betrayed me.
They found him instantly.
Ronan stood across the grounds, bare-chested, muscles flexing as he corrected a warrior's stance. Tattoos crawled up his arm like dark flames, and the morning sun made his skin glow bronze. His presence was magnetic, dangerous, impossible to ignore.
My heart stuttered. My wolf whimpered.
I tore my gaze away and joined a different circle, pairing with a younger warrior whose wide eyes showed both respect and fear. At least sparring with him kept my focus occupied. Every time my thoughts drifted toward Ronan, I forced myself to strike harder, dodge quicker, stay in the fight.
But I still felt his eyes.
I didn't have to look to know he was watching me. His attention clung to me like a second skin, making it impossible to breathe freely.
When the training ended, I slipped out before he could corner me. My wolf snarled at my cowardice, but I ignored her. Distance was my only weapon left.
Meals were worse.
The dining hall was packed with warriors, voices loud with laughter and gossip. I slid into a corner seat beside Selene, grateful for the distraction of her chatter about hunting routes. I kept my head down, shoving food into my mouth like it could shield me.
But then the room fell silent, one ripple of awareness moving through the pack like a wave.
He had entered.
Ronan strode across the hall with the grace of a predator, every step calculated, commanding. Conversations paused, all eyes shifting toward him, as though the very air bent around his presence.
I stiffened, forcing myself not to look.
But I felt him draw near. His scent—smoke and pine and something darker—washed over me, wrapping around my senses until I could barely taste the food in my mouth.
The bench creaked across from me. My wolf perked, tail high with delight.
I didn't look up. I couldn't. My nails dug into the table's edge, and I focused on Selene's voice though I couldn't process a word she said. My chest ached with the effort of pretending he wasn't sitting there, watching me with those searing blue eyes.
When I finally dared to glance up, his lips curved—not in a smile, but in a knowing smirk, the kind that said he saw straight through my defenses.
I shoved back from the table and fled, ignoring Selene's startled call.
Days passed like that.
In council meetings, I kept my answers clipped and my eyes fixed anywhere but on him. On hunts, I volunteered for the farthest perimeter just to escape his shadow. At night, I lay awake, cursing myself for the way my body still burned with memory, with longing, with betrayal.
The pack noticed. Whispers followed me, soft but sharp.
"She won't even look at him."
"Did you see the way the Alpha watches her?"
"They're circling each other like fire and storm. Something's going to break."
And I feared they were right.
One evening, Selene cornered me outside the training hall. The moonlight lit her pale hair like silver fire, her eyes sharp with knowing.
"You can't avoid him forever, Raven," she said softly. "The bond doesn't work like that."
"I don't care," I snapped. "I don't want this bond, and I won't let him think he can own me just because fate decided it."
Her gaze softened, but her voice remained steady. "It isn't about ownership. It's about survival. Our kind aren't built to sever bonds without consequence. You can try to run from him, but you'll only be running from yourself."
Her words sank deep, unwanted, but true. I turned away, jaw tight, nails biting into my palms.
"I'd rather burn than submit," I whispered.
But in the shadows, I felt him again.
Ronan. Watching. Waiting. Silent.
And no matter how many walls I built, I knew one thing with terrifying clarity:
He wasn't going to let me go.