The moon rose high and heavy, a pale silver coin hanging above Blackthorn territory, pouring cold light into Evelyn's room. She stood at the window, palms flat against the glass, her breath fogging the pane. The night air outside was alive with distant howls, low and haunting.
She wasn't afraid.
She was restless.
Because the real danger wasn't out there—it was inside the packhouse.
Inside the bond.
Inside her own skin.
She pulled her hand away from the window, staring as shadows rippled across her fingertips like ink stirred in water. They responded to her breathing now, rising and falling like a second pulse. Every emotion shaped them—fear sharpened them,anger darkened them,and when she thought of him…
They shivered.
She growled under her breath, pacing, trying to quiet the buzzing under her skin. She hated this. She hated him. She hated the bond.
But she couldn't stop thinking about his eyes, the way they glowed like molten silver when he got too close.
As if summoned by the thought—
The bond tugged.
Hard.
Evelyn gasped, spinning toward the door.
But the sensation wasn't coming from the hallway.
The room darkened—just a shift, barely noticeable. A whisper of movement, a shift of air pressure.
Then a voice, low and quiet:
"You're getting stronger."
Ronan was standing in the corner.
Silent. Still. Watching her.
Evelyn jumped, shadows flaring around her like a living shield. "What the hell are you doing in my room?"
His eyes were unreadable. "I didn't want to wake you."
"I wasn't asleep."
"I know," he said simply. "I felt it."
Her pulse stumbled.
He said it like it was a fact. Like their bodies breathing in sync was the most natural thing in the world. Like he could hear the stutter in her heartbeat and know she wasn't resting.
She swallowed. "Get out."
Ronan didn't move.
His broad shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath, but everything about him was tense. Coiled. Controlled. Like a storm held inside a man's body.
She hated how good he looked in moonlight—shadowed jaw, messed hair, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, scars faintly visible on his forearm. Real. Rough. Powerful.
Danger.
"Did you climb through the window?" she demanded.
A muscle in his cheek twitched. "The door. You didn't hear."
"No," she muttered. "I didn't."
"Your senses are heightened now," he murmured. "You will."
She hated that he cared.Hated that she felt a flash of relief.
Hated that the bond pulsed warm when his eyes swept over her.
"Why are you here?" she asked again.
Ronan's jaw tightened. "Because your shadows tried to follow me."
Her stomach dropped.
"What?"
"In the hallway," he said. "They reached under the door. Not to attack. To… touch."
She flushed. "They didn't."
"They did."
Heat crawled up her neck. When she was emotional, the shadows acted like greedy things—reach for danger, for warmth, for—
No.Just no.
"Control them," Ronan said.
"I can't," she snapped. "I didn't ask for this."
"I know."
"And you don't get to order me around!"
"I know."
"Then leave!"
He closed his eyes for one slow second.
"I can't."
The honesty.The rawness.It slammed into her.
Her voice cracked. "Why?"
Ronan opened his eyes—and something inside him was crumbling.
"Because the bond won't let me," he said softly. "Because when you're hurting, it claws at my chest. Because when you're awake, I feel it under my skin. Because every time I walk away, something drags me back."
His voice broke on the last word.
Evelyn stepped back, breath shaky. "That's not my fault."
"I know it's not."
"And I don't want this."
"Neither do I."
Silence.
Heavy.Fragile.Charged.
His gaze dropped to her hands—shadows swirling there like black ribbons.
"Let me see," he said quietly.
She jerked her arms behind her. "No."
"I won't touch you."
"Good."
Ronan exhaled slowly. "Evelyn… your powers are tied to your emotions. Right now, they're responding to the bond. I need to know how bad it is."
"It's none of your business."
His throat bobbed. "Everything about you is my business."
"Not anymore."
His eyes darkened, silver deepening toward storm-gray. "If only it were that simple."
She turned away, but the bond snapped tight—pulling her back, heat coiling in her stomach. The air between them vibrated.
"Stop doing that," she whispered.
"I'm not doing anything," he said, voice rough.
"Well, stop… existing so close to me!"
Ronan's lips twitched—not amused, just exhausted. "If you'd prefer, I can stay on the other side of the room."
"Perfect. Do that."
He didn't move.
She glared. "That's not the other side of the room."
"I know."
The tension snapped again—electric, humming under her skin. Her shadows flickered. Ronan took a slow breath, as if fighting his own instincts.
"Come here," he said suddenly.
Her body jolted.
"No," she whispered.
"It'll be easier."
"I don't want easy."
He stepped forward.
She stepped back.
They circled each other in slow, tight motions, like predators on the same hunting ground.
"Evelyn," he murmured. "The bond reacts worse when we fight it."
"Then maybe you shouldn't have rejected me," she shot back.
His breath stuttered.
Her words hit him like a blade.
He stepped closer—almost involuntarily.
The shadows under her feet curled toward him like smoke.
"No," Ronan whispered. "Not again."
He turned away as if to flee—but the bond yanked him back with a force that made him hiss in pain.
"Damn it—" He grabbed the edge of the dresser, knuckles white.
Evelyn ran to him before she could think—bond, instinct, fear—she didn't know.
But she grabbed his arm.
And everything exploded.
Heat.Light.A pulse of raw energy.
His wolf surged under his skin—she felt it, like a beast brushing against her soul. Ronan's breath slammed out of him. Her knees buckled. The shadows roared around them.
His hand shot out and grabbed her waist to steady her.
Not roughly.Not possessively.Just because she was falling.
Her fingers curled into his shirt instinctively.
They froze—
Bodies close.Breaths tangled.The bond burning between them like fire and gravity.
Ronan's voice was barely a sound. "Evelyn…"
His forehead touched hers.Barely.A soft, trembling contact.
Her pulse spiked.Her lips parted.Her shadows wrapped around both of them like a dark embrace.
"Tell me to let go," he whispered, breath warm against her mouth.
She tried.
She really tried.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because the bond wanted him.
And—
And a small, broken part of her wanted him too.
"I can't," she whispered.
Ronan's eyes fluttered shut—pain, relief, hunger all crashing together. His hand slid up her waist, fingers trembling as if every nerve in his body was on fire.
"Then we're both damned," he breathed.
His thumb brushed her hip—barely a touch—but her whole body arched into him. Heat flooded her chest, her stomach, lower—
Ronan groaned softly. "Evelyn… gods… if I pull you any closer—"
"You won't stop," she whispered.
"No," he admitted, voice cracking. "I won't."
The air between them tightened—hot, choking, intimate.
For one terrifying, thrilling heartbeat, she thought he would kiss her.
And she didn't know if she would push him away—or pull him closer.
Then—
Ronan tore himself back.
Not gently.Not gracefully.Violently.
Like ripping himself off a hook embedded in his soul.
The shadows snapped back to her feet with a gasp of cold air.
Ronan stumbled a step, chest heaving, jaw clenched, eyes wild with pain and need and something close to desperation.
"This—" he rasped. "—was the last time. The last time I let myself touch you."
He backed toward the door, shoulders tense, breath shaking.
"If I do it again…" He swallowed. "I won't stop."
The bond pulsed so painfully that she whimpered—quiet, involuntary.
Ronan flinched like the sound physically hurt him.
Then he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.
Softly.
Brokenly.
Evelyn stood alone, hands shaking, heart hammering, shadows curling around her in frantic confusion.
A tear slid down her cheek.
She wiped it away angrily.
"Liar," she whispered.Because she felt it.
The bond wasn't done with them.Not even close.