Raven slammed her door shut behind her, the sound echoing through the room like a clap of thunder. She leaned against it, chest rising and falling, her breath coming in ragged bursts as though she had been running for her life. In a way, she had. Not from danger outside—but from the storm inside her.
Her hands trembled as she pressed them over her lips. They were still swollen, still tingling with the ghost of his mouth on hers.
No matter how she tried to will it away, the memory of Ronan's kiss burned through her veins like wildfire.
It hadn't just been a kiss. It had been possession, a claim, a demand her body had answered with desperate hunger before her mind could catch up. She could still feel his grip on her, strong and unyielding, the way he'd pulled her flush against him as if he'd never let her go.
Her wolf stirred restlessly inside her, prowling, furious at her retreat. Why did you run? the voice echoed, low and sharp. He is ours. You deny what we both want.
Raven squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. "No. I can't. I can't let this happen."
Coward, her wolf hissed. You felt it—the fire, the bond. You ache for him.
She pressed her fists to her chest, as though she could hold herself together before she unraveled completely. She hated how true it was. Every nerve in her body screamed for him, every breath carried his scent as if it lingered in her lungs, in her skin.
Storm and cedar. Strength and danger. Ronan.
The name tore through her mind like a brand.
"No," she whispered again, her voice breaking. "I can't lose myself to him. I won't."
She moved across the room in quick, uneven steps, as though distance would steady her. The curtains swayed in the breeze from the open window, moonlight spilling silver across the floor. She caught her reflection in the glass—wide, golden-brown eyes, flushed cheeks, lips still reddened from his kiss.
She didn't recognize the woman staring back.
Her knees weakened, and she sank onto the edge of the bed. The silence pressed in around her, loud and accusing. She buried her face in her hands, struggling to breathe past the ache swelling in her chest.
He makes you weak, she told herself. He'll take everything if you let him in.
But another thought crept in, unbidden and cruel: What if I already have?
Her wolf snarled in response, pacing harder inside her, teeth bared. He is not weakness. He is strength. He is ours. Stop fighting what is meant to be.
"I don't want to belong to anyone," Raven whispered fiercely, but the tears burning in her eyes betrayed her. Her voice cracked. "I can't. Not after everything…"
Memories pressed at her—years of keeping her heart locked away, of forcing herself to survive without relying on anyone. She had built walls, high and unyielding, walls that kept her safe. But one man—one kiss—had made cracks she couldn't ignore.
She remembered the way his voice had roughened when he said her name, the way his hands had held her like she was both fire and salvation. And gods help her, she had wanted to stay there, to give in completely, to see how far the bond would drag her into his world.
A sob slipped past her lips, muffled against her palms. She hated herself for wanting him. Hated that she couldn't forget the taste of him, the heat of him.
The bond thrummed in her chest, insistent and alive, tugging at her as though it had a will of its own. No matter how far she tried to run, it pulled her back, tying her to him with threads of fire she couldn't sever.
"You will not control me," she muttered, lifting her head, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "You will not break me."
But her voice shook, her resolve crumbling. Even now, she could feel him—an echo of his emotions brushing against hers, the weight of his presence on the edge of her senses. Angry. Frustrated. Wanting.
Her heart clenched.
You can't keep him out, her wolf growled.
You don't want to.
Raven dragged the blankets around her like armor and lay down, curling tight against the cold. Exhaustion pulled at her, but sleep refused to come easily. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him again—his storm-gray gaze darkened with desire, his body pressed against hers, his lips crushing hers in a kiss that left her burning.
Her breathing quickened, and she buried her face in the pillow, whispering brokenly, "Stay away from me, Ronan… please."
But deep down, she already knew the truth.
She didn't want him to stay away. She wanted him closer.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
When at last her eyes fluttered shut, sleep claimed her, but it was not merciful. Her dreams were filled with shadows and fire, with Ronan's hands on her body, with the sound of her wolf howling her surrender. And no matter how she tried to run, she always ended up back in his arms, his voice in her ear, his bond binding her tighter.
She woke before dawn, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, heart pounding as though she had lived the dream instead of just imagined it. For a long moment, she sat in silence, clutching the blankets around her, fighting to calm her racing pulse.
But even in the quiet of her chamber, one truth wrapped itself around her like chains:
She wasn't afraid of not loving Ronan.
She was afraid of how much she already did.