Ronan stood frozen in the dim light of his quarters, the door still echoing from Raven's exit. Her scent lingered—wild, fiery, maddening—clinging to his skin like the kiss he shouldn't have stolen.
His wolf paced restlessly inside him, furious at the distance she had forced between them. It wanted her, wanted to claim her, to sink teeth into the soft curve of her neck and leave no doubt to anyone—least of all Lyra—who she belonged to. But Raven's words cut deeper than any blade.
Respect my boundaries.
He dragged a hand through his hair, chest tight. No one had ever told him no before. As Alpha, he commanded obedience, loyalty, fear. But Raven… she had looked him in the eye, trembling yet unyielding, and demanded restraint. The fire in her gaze had shaken him more than the rogues that stalked their borders.
He pressed his palms to the table, forcing himself to steady his breathing. Lyra's perfume still tainted the air, sickly sweet compared to Raven's untamed wildness. He should have thrown Lyra out the moment she arrived, but part of him had been curious—curious to see Raven's reaction. And now he hated himself for it.
A knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts. He knew the rhythm before it came again. Lyra.
"Leave," he barked.
The door creaked open anyway. Lyra leaned against the frame, her smirk firmly in place.
"That was quite the scene, Alpha. She looked ready to tear me apart."
Ronan's wolf surged at her tone, but he forced it down. "You don't belong here, Lyra."
"Oh, but I do." She sauntered closer, her voice low, teasing. "You may try to deny it, but we share history. You and I were unstoppable once. Do you really think Raven can handle you? She's too raw, too fragile."
Ronan's jaw tightened. He remembered those days with Lyra—wild, reckless nights fueled by lust and ambition. But that was before responsibility had settled on his shoulders like iron chains. Before he had known what it meant to lead, to protect, to need someone not for pleasure, but for balance.
"She's stronger than you think," he said evenly.
Lyra circled him, fingertips brushing over the ink on his arm. "Strength doesn't mean she can survive you. You burn too hot, Ronan. You'll consume her."
He grabbed her wrist, shoving her hand away. His voice dropped, rough with warning. "Touch me again and you'll regret it."
Her eyes flickered with surprise, then amusement. "So it's true. She has her claws in you already." She laughed softly, shaking her head. "This isn't over. Not for me. And not for her."
She slipped out before he could respond, leaving silence in her wake. Ronan stood there, his wolf snarling, torn between chasing after Raven and ripping Lyra apart.
Instead, he strode to the balcony, staring out at the forest bathed in silver moonlight.
Shadows stretched long across the trees, whispering of rogues lurking just beyond the borders. His responsibilities pressed down hard. His pack needed him clear-headed, not distracted by the storm of desire and rage tearing through him.
Yet no matter how far he looked into the night, his mind circled back to Raven. The way she had pushed him away with trembling hands, the way her voice had broken when she demanded space. She wanted him, he knew it—her body had betrayed her—but she wanted more than possession. She wanted choice.
That unsettled him most of all.
For years, he had believed the bond between wolves was simple: desire, dominance, instinct. But Raven challenged every rule. She wanted to stand beside him, not beneath him. She wanted his respect as much as his touch. And damn it all, she deserved both.
His wolf snarled in protest. She is ours. Take her. Mark her.
But Ronan clenched his fists, resisting the primal urge. If he crossed that line without her consent, he'd lose her forever.
The door creaked again, softer this time. His Beta, Kieran, stepped in, face grim. "The rogues are pushing closer. Two scouts spotted movement near the eastern ridge."
Ronan exhaled slowly, forcing his mind to shift from Raven to duty. "Double the patrols. I'll lead at dawn."
Kieran hesitated, studying him. "And Raven? She's reckless. If she goes out there alone…"
Ronan's chest tightened. He wanted to lock her away where no danger could touch her. But she'd never forgive him for caging her strength. "Keep an eye on her," he said instead. "But don't smother her. She needs freedom to fight. She'll come to me when she's ready."
The Beta nodded and slipped out, leaving Ronan alone once more. He sank into the chair, his body aching with exhaustion he couldn't afford to show. His wolf prowled inside, restless, hungry.
Moonlight washed over him, cold and merciless. He thought of Raven's eyes—brown fire that stripped him bare. He thought of Lyra's words—poisonous, but not entirely wrong. Could he give Raven the space she demanded, or would his nature always drive him to claim?
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, a growl rumbling low in his throat.
Boundaries. Fire. Desire. Rage. They all tangled into one knot he couldn't undo. But he knew one thing: Raven was worth burning for.
And he would wait, no matter how much it tore him apart.