Aiden felt it before he saw it.
That strange, prickling heat along the back of his neck—the way his wolf suddenly lifted its head inside him, ears forward, alert but… not hostile. Not anxious. Something softer. Something he didn't want to name.
He froze mid-stride, one hand still on the parchment he'd been sorting. Slowly, he lifted his eyes.
Theron was staring at him.
Not a glance. Not a passing look.
Watching him.
Aiden's heart slammed against his ribs so hard it hurt. "What?" he blurted, too fast, too defensive.
Theron didn't answer at first. His gaze was steady—sharp, assessing, but warmer than Aiden remembered. Almost like he was trying to understand something he couldn't put words to.
Aiden panicked.
He shoved the parchment against the table, pretending he'd just been busy. "Do you—uh—need something, Your Majesty?"
Theron's expression didn't change much, but something flickered in his eyes. Interest. Curiosity. Maybe confusion.
"No," Theron said slowly, "I was just… looking."
Aiden's breath caught.
Looking.Gods.
He nodded too quickly. "Right. Yes. Of course. Looking. I should—uh—get back to—things."
Theron's brow lifted a fraction, like he could smell the panic rolling off Aiden. Which he probably could.
But he didn't push. He simply turned away, offering a quiet, "Carry on."
Aiden sagged forward the moment Theron's back was turned, gripping the table like it might keep him from collapsing. His wolf was pacing now—not with agitation but with a strange, eager energy. Tail up. Ears pricked. Like it liked being looked at.
Which was the worst thing that could possibly happen.
"Oh no," Aiden whispered under his breath. "No, no, no. Don't you start."
His wolf huffed. A soft, warm sound.
Aiden wanted to crawl under the table.
"Following your king with your eyes again?"
Aiden nearly launched into the ceiling.
Ronan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing the smuggest smirk Aiden had ever seen on a living creature. His golden eyes sparkled with pure shit-stirring mischief.
"I wasn't—" Aiden started.
Ronan shook his head. "You absolutely were."
"I was working!"
"Mm-hm. Sure. And I'm the Moon Goddess reborn."
Aiden tried to glare at him, but his face felt like it was on fire. "I wasn't looking at him like—like that."
"No," Ronan said thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "It was definitely worse."
Aiden groaned.
Ronan pushed off the wall and strolled in, lowering his voice. "It's not just you, you know."
Aiden froze.
Ronan shrugged. "His wolf settles around you. Everyone feels it. He's less tense. Less… sharp-edged." A beat. "That doesn't happen with just anyone."
Aiden swallowed hard. "It doesn't mean anything."
Ronan raised a brow. "It means something."
Aiden's wolf gave a satisfied thump of its tail.
Aiden wanted to die.
Theron had been drowning in responsibilities since his recovery—meetings, reports, border issues, pack matters—trying to catch up on everything he missed while gone.
Aiden should've been relieved. Distance should've helped.
But every hour Theron spent working… Aiden caught himself wondering if he was eating enough. Resting enough. Healing properly from his rut. Overworking himself—which Theron absolutely would if no one stopped him.
And every time their paths crossed, even briefly, Theron's wolf brushed against Aiden's like a warm, accidental touch. Not claiming. Not dominant.
Curious.Interested.Drawn.
It was torture.
Aiden kept telling himself nothing had happened. Nothing was going to happen.
But the way his wolf leaned toward Theron without permission—the way it quieted, softened, warmed—
Aiden feared he knew the truth.
Maybe.
Maybe he was falling.
Maybe he already had.
Maybe that was the problem.
Aiden felt the presence before he heard the footsteps.
A shift in the air.A flicker of power.His wolf's ears shot up—alert, tense, but not afraid.
Too late.
"Aiden."
Theron's voice was low. Controlled. The kind of tone usually used before a battle, not a conversation.
Aiden stiffened and turned, already knowing what he'd find.
Theron stood in the doorway of the narrow storage room—a place Aiden had slipped into to catch his breath. The king filled the space with nothing more than posture and presence, broad shoulders blocking the exit.
Aiden swallowed. "Your Majesty—"
"Don't."Theron stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
Aiden's heart dropped into his stomach.
Not because he feared him.But because his wolf didn't.
"Aiden," Theron said again, slower this time. "Why are you avoiding me?"
Aiden opened his mouth. Not a single excuse came out.
Instead he stammered, "I—I'm not—"
Theron's eyes sharpened. "Do not lie to me."
The words hit like a physical force.
Aiden backed up instinctively until his spine pressed against a shelf. He wasn't trapped—but it felt like it. Theron didn't touch him, didn't lean in. He didn't have to.
His presence alone was enough to pin Aiden in place.
"I'm not avoiding you," Aiden tried again, quieter.
Theron took another step. Close enough for Aiden to feel warmth rolling off him.
"Every time I enter a room," Theron said, voice even but electric, "you leave."
Aiden's breath hitched.
"You flinch when I look at you.""I don't—""You refuse to meet my eyes.""That's not—""And my wolf reacts every time you're near," Theron finished, stepping close enough that Aiden had to tilt his head up. "So tell me—why are you running from me?"
Aiden's wolf quivered, conflicted and desperate and wanting.
Aiden squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm not running."
Theron's breath ghosted across Aiden's cheek. "You are. And I want to know why."
Aiden forced his eyes open.
Theron was watching him with that unbearable mix of power and vulnerability—like he wasn't sure if Aiden was going to step forward or disappear entirely.
Aiden's voice cracked. "Because you're making this hard."
"What is 'this'?" Theron demanded softly.
Aiden's chest heaved. "Everything."
Theron's jaw tightened. "Be specific."
Aiden looked away—because if he looked at him, he'd say too much.
Theron leaned in, only enough that their foreheads almost touched.Not dominant.Not commanding.
Searching.
"Aiden," he murmured, "am I hurting you?"
Aiden's head snapped up. "No!"
"Then what?" Theron's voice roughened, just slightly. "What have I done to make you fear me?"
Aiden's breath shook. "I don't—fear you."
"Then why," Theron whispered, "do you act like being near me burns?"
Aiden's wolf whimpered.
Aiden broke.
"It's not you," he said, voice thin, shaking. "It's me."
Theron stilled.
Aiden's hands curled into fists. "I don't know how to be around you. I don't know what to do with how I feel, or how my wolf feels, or—just—anything. And every time I look at you, it gets worse."
Silence.
Theron's eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in realization.Understanding.Focus.
"Aiden," Theron said, low and almost dangerous, "tell me what you feel."
Aiden shook his head violently. "I can't."
"Tell me."
"I can't."
Theron's hand rose—slow, deliberate—and he placed his palm beside Aiden's head, caging him in without touching him.
Not forcing.
Just waiting.
"It's just…" Aiden whispered, voice breaking. "Every time you look at me, I feel like I can't breathe."
Theron's wolf surged forward—Aiden felt it.
But Theron didn't move.
He only said, in a voice that trembled with restraint:
"Then stop running."
Aiden stared up at him, torn wide open.
"How?" he whispered.
Theron's answer was barely audible.But it wasn't a command.
It was a plea.
"Stay."