MasukThe kiss didn’t soften.
It deepened. Carolina felt it everywhere at once— Not just on her lips, but in the way her body reacted, in the way the bond flared hot and insistent between them. Her back pressed fully against the wooden post now, grounding her— But nothing about this felt steady anymore. Xander stepped closer. No space left. His body aligned with hers, solid and unyielding, and her breath caught sharply at the contact. The shift was immediate. No hesitation. No question. Just heat. His hand tightened at her waist, fingers pressing into her side as if anchoring himself— Or her. She couldn’t tell which. Maybe both. Carolina’s hands slid up his chest again, slower this time, feeling the tension beneath her palms—the strength, the restraint that was unraveling piece by piece. “You feel that?” he murmured against her lips. Her answer came out unsteady. “Yes.” Because it wasn’t just the bond anymore. It was him. The way he held her. The way he kissed her—like he was trying not to lose control, but already halfway there. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer— And that was all it took. The kiss shifted. Deeper. Hungrier. Still controlled—but barely. Xander exhaled sharply against her mouth, his forehead brushing hers for a split second before he kissed her again, slower now, like he was forcing himself to feel every second of it. Carolina’s breath broke softly as his hand moved— Sliding from her waist, up along her side, fingers grazing lightly before settling again, firm and sure. The touch sent a ripple through her. Not overwhelming— But enough to make her press closer without thinking. The bond surged in response. Warm. Heavy. Pulling them tighter together. “You keep doing that…” he said quietly, voice rough now. “Doing what?” she whispered. His thumb traced slowly along her side again. “Moving like you don’t realize what it does.” Her pulse jumped. “Maybe I do.” That snapped the last thread. His hand tightened, pulling her fully against him as his mouth found hers again—this time with more intention, more pressure, less restraint. Carolina gasped softly into the kiss, her hands sliding higher, gripping his shoulders as the intensity between them built. Not rushed. But undeniable. Every second stretched. Every touch lingered. The world beyond them faded completely. No pack. No rules. No consequences. Just this. Just him. When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. Barely enough to breathe. His forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing harder now, the tension still thick between them—unbroken. “This is where I should stop,” he said quietly. Carolina didn’t move. Didn’t let go. “Then why aren’t you?” His hand flexed slightly at her side. “Because I don’t want to.” Her heart pounded. Neither did she. And that was the problem. But also— The reason she stayed exactly where she was. The reason her hand slid back to his chest, steadying herself against him— Or maybe holding him there. “Then don’t,” she whispered. A mistake. Or maybe a choice. Xander’s gaze dropped to her lips again— And this time, when he kissed her— There was nothing holding it back. Not fear. Not doubt. Just the quiet, dangerous certainty that neither of them was walking away from this unchanged.The return to the house was a wet blur. They let the darkness muffle their footfalls and pretended not to notice the twin beams of porchlights tracking them over the marshy lawn. Xander’s shoulders dripped, a fresh stripe of mud painting his cheek. Carolina caught the turn of his jaw, the way he kept glancing at her as if to confirm she was real, still tethered to his side. It made her feel less like a person and more like a crisis he’d learned to nurse. The foyer was empty, except for a pair of discarded boots and the echo of a door closing somewhere above. They shed their coats in a heap, careful not to touch, but then Xander’s hand found her wrist and, as if remembering itself, held there. It was nothing like the first time. That had been reckless, gritted-teeth and bruised lips, an animal need that didn’t apologize or linger. But now there was a hush to the world, a deliberate pause, like the space between lightning and thunder. Xander’s
A week of sullen rain soaked the world to sponginess. By the time the next evening with even a hint of clear sky arrived, the whole crew was ready to throttle one another purely from boredom. But Carolina had a plan and, improbably, so did Xander. They met in the blue hour outside the derelict greenhouse, where steam from the boilers curled around shattered windowpanes like something alive. He brought her a thermos, black coffee diluted with something caramel-sweet, and she clinked her mug against his, because if you didn’t toast to survival, what was the point. After dinner, instead of the usual shuffle back to bunks, Carolina led Xander up the trails, through the slick branches and deadfall, up a slope that overlooked the valley. “Date night,” she said, voice bright and hard, like she’d rehearsed this. A picnic, but without the kitsch—just a battered blanket and two packs of peanut butter crackers. She’d pilfered a bar of chocolate from the dry goods, too, which mad
The first day after was always the worst. The way every look sideways had a question folded into it—How long have you been hiding this? What will you do now? She let each stare slide off her as she crossed the muddy lot, Xander at her side, the two of them a gravity well for gossip. She was not unused to attention; she just hated the kind that involved her feelings.The training field was a wet sprawl of grass, cordoned off by battered fencing and the odd, half-collapsed barricade. Most of the others were already assembled, their breath rising in steamy clouds, half-listening to Hayden’s attempt at a pep talk while they passed a dented thermos around. Carolina caught the drift of cinnamon and remembered, faintly, the last time she’d let herself want something as basic as comfort.Hayden’s voice broke over the field: “—and that’s why if you aren’t at least pretending to care today, someone’s going to get their ass handed to them.” She glanced up, spotted Carolina and Xander, and someho
The morning pressed its way in through the window—a clear, pale slab of light slicing the room in half and falling directly across Carolina’s face. It was the shift in temperature, more than the brightness, that woke her: the air had that cool, dusty feeling that made her want to burrow in. Instead, she blinked against the glow, feeling the weight of the blankets, the heat of the body curled against her spine.Xander had not, apparently, moved at all since last night. He was still bracing her in place, chin tucked between her shoulder and neck, arm a heavy bar around her middle. Sometime in the night, she’d shifted that arm higher, so her hand rested atop his. She let herself hold still, breathing in the scent of him—a little woodsmoke, a little sweat, all wolf and summer.If she stayed like this, she could almost forget why sleep had been so necessary. That the world outside was already spinning up, waiting for her to step back into it. That the shrapnel of what had happened yesterda
“—insane,” she finished, blinking at him. “That was—” Xander braced a hand near her head, looking at once predatory and oddly vulnerable, like the wolf and the man still hadn’t decided who was in charge. He kept himself close, his breath cool and shivering against her skin. “That was?” he prompted, a hint of teasing behind the gruffness. Carolina shook her head, dazed. “I have no words.” He grinned in a way that made her want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “Good. Because if you’re out of words, you’ll listen for once.” She snorted. “Unlikely.” But she didn’t protest when he pulled her against him again, his mouth finding the hollow just below her ear, then the corner of her jaw. It was softer now, as if the rough edge had burned away. When their eyes met, she felt the full weight of him—wanting, watching, almost afraid. “Say it’s not too much,” he said, voice low. She stared at him, her thumb tracing the line of his collarbone. “It’s not enough.” Xander’s expression w
His hand left her waist and, with a slow, deliberate slide, tangled in the hem of her shirt. He paused just long enough for her to inhale—a single, tight breath—before he lifted the thin fabric. His palm flattened, grazing up her side, the contact electric in the hush of the room.Carolina arched toward him. His touch was tentative for just an instant—an old habit of restraint—then grew bolder, thumb sweeping beneath the curve of her breast. She shivered.“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, the words barely shaping the air.She shook her head, voice silent, body answering for her. His hand found her breast, fingers spreading, the heat of his palm striking through the thin cotton. She exhaled—shaky, unguarded—when his thumb brushed the nipple, slow and gentle at first, then pinching just enough to draw a quiet gasp from her throat. The sound seemed to undo him. He bent to kiss the side of her neck, grazing the soft skin just below her jaw with his teeth, not quite biting, t







