The firelight painted Ronan's quarters in shades of gold and shadow, flickering across his bare chest as he sat in the chair near his bed. His wound bled sluggishly, staining the tattoos carved across his ribs.
He pressed a cloth against it, jaw tight, refusing the healer's help.
Raven lingered in the doorway, her pulse thundering. She should have left him. She should have listened to her head instead of her wolf. But her feet moved before her mind could stop them.
"You'll make it worse if you don't let someone look at it," she whispered.
His blue eyes lifted, locking onto hers. Even bloodied, even exhausted, he was dangerous in his stillness. "I don't want someone," he said, voice low and rough. "I want you."
Her throat tightened. Still, she crossed the room, kneeling beside him. Her hands brushed his as she took the cloth, heat sparking at the contact. She pressed it against his wound, her fingers trembling.
"You're reckless," she muttered, eyes fixed on his chest instead of his gaze. "Throwing yourself in front of me—"
"You're mine to protect." His voice was a growl, his hand catching her wrist. "Don't expect me to apologize for it."
The words cracked something inside her.
Her hand lingered, sliding higher over the hard planes of his chest, tracing the ink that coiled over muscle and scar. His breath hitched, and when she finally looked up, his eyes weren't just blue—they were burning.
The bond surged, irresistible.
She didn't remember moving, didn't remember choosing. One heartbeat she was staring into his eyes, the next his mouth was on hers.
The kiss was fire—hot, desperate, consuming. Ronan's hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her against him like he'd been starving for her. Raven gasped into his mouth, her hands clutching his shoulders, her body pressed into his.
He growled, the sound vibrating through her as his lips moved harder, deeper. She slid into his lap without thinking, straddling him, her thighs bracketing his. The heat of his body seared her through the thin barrier of her clothes.
Her wolf howled with triumph, clawing inside her chest. This—this was where she belonged.
Ronan's hands roamed her back, strong and possessive, sliding lower to grip her hips, pulling her tighter against him. The cloth she'd been using to clean his wound slipped to the floor, forgotten. His skin was hot under her palms, every tattoo alive beneath her touch.
"Raven," he groaned against her lips, his voice breaking. "You drive me insane."
Her mouth trailed from his lips to his jaw, to the rough line of his throat. She kissed his skin there, feeling his pulse thunder under her lips, her teeth grazing his collarbone. He shuddered, his grip tightening until she thought she'd melt into him.
The world outside the room vanished. There was no pack, no danger, no whispers. Only him. Only them.
Her hands slipped lower, tracing the ridges of muscle down his stomach. His body tensed under her touch, a sharp intake of breath leaving him. Ronan's hand slid up her thigh, fingers pressing into her skin through the thin fabric, leaving fire in their wake.
She gasped, arching into him, her body betraying every wall she'd built. The bond roared between them, demanding more, demanding everything.
And for one dizzy, terrifying, glorious moment, Raven wanted to give it.
But then fear crashed through her, cold and brutal.
Her lips stilled against his skin, her body frozen even as her wolf screamed in protest.
Her heart pounded so violently it hurt. This wasn't just lust—it was surrender. It was everything she swore she couldn't risk.
She pulled back, breathless, her hands still splayed against his chest. His eyes snapped open, glowing, his pupils blown wide with need.
"Don't stop," he rasped, his forehead pressing to hers. "Don't run from this."
Tears stung her eyes. "I have to," she whispered, though her body trembled with the lie. Slowly, she slid off his lap, stepping back even as every part of her ached to stay.
His fists clenched against his thighs, his chest rising and falling like a man holding back a storm. He didn't chase her this time, didn't force her back into his arms. But his voice was a vow, raw and unbreakable.
"You can fight me, Raven. You can fight yourself. But you won't win. Not against this. Not against us."
Her lips still burned, her skin still alive where he'd touched her. And as she turned toward the door, Raven knew he was right.
She was losing.