Chapter 6

Morning came too early.

I woke slowly, the way one does after a long night of running from things both real and imagined. For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was. The furs beneath me were too soft, the air too warm, and the scent—pine, smoke, something dark and earthy—wrapped around my senses like a second skin.

Then memory slammed into me.

The forest.

The water.

His hands pulling me out of the cold.

Kael’s room.

My eyes snapped open.

He wasn’t beside the bed. The space where he had sat last night—rigid and silent like a guard posted at my bedside—was empty. But the chair was still pulled close, the blanket he must’ve draped around me still tucked under my chin. Someone had placed a small towel by the pillow and a clay cup of water beside me.

None of that felt like Kael.

And yet… I somehow knew it had been.

I pushed up slowly, testing my knee out of habit more than necessity. No pain. No sting. Not even a twinge. The bandage he’d unwrapped last night lay folded on the table, stained with my dried blood—evidence that what I remembered was real.

His mouth on my skin.

Heat crept up my neck, unwelcome and confusing. I shoved the blanket off and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My dress, still slightly damp, clung to me unpleasantly. Someone had lit a fire in the hearth, warm enough that steam rose from the fabric.

There was a new dress waiting at the foot of the bed—dark green, simple, long-sleeved. My size. My height. My style.

My stomach tightened.

For a man who pretended not to care, Kael had thought of too many details.

I changed quickly, braiding my hair with shaky fingers. The silence of the room pressed in, thick and strange. This wasn’t a place meant for being comfortable. The furniture was sparse, practical—no ornaments, no fabrics except the furs, no unnecessary personal touches. A single dagger rested on the nightstand. The bed was large but undecorated. The window had no curtain.

It was the space of a man who wasn’t used to sharing anything with anyone.

I was halfway to the door when I hesitated.

Last night’s conversation echoed in my mind.

"I didn’t want you to be afraid of me."

"You’re my mate."

"I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t wake up."

Words that shouldn’t have belonged to him. Not the Kael everyone talked about. Not the Alpha who ripped a rogue apart with his bare hands.

I exhaled, bracing myself, and stepped into the hallway.

***

The pack house had woken up with the sun. Voices drifted through the corridors, low and steady—workers coordinating chores, guards exchanging updates, mothers calling out to children. It was a world bustling with routine and purpose.

A world I still felt outside of.

When I entered the dining hall, conversation dipped noticeably. Not long enough to call attention to it, but long enough that I felt it. Their eyes slid to me—some curious, some polite, some wary. After last night’s incident, I couldn’t blame them.

Kael had come back soaked, carrying me in his arms like a corpse he refused to let go of.

I spotted Mira first. She rushed over, relief flooding her face.

“Thank the goddess, you’re awake.” She cupped my shoulders. “Are you hurt? Kael wouldn’t let anyone near you last night. Said you needed rest.”

“He was right,” I murmured, trying not to think about his expression as he’d said it.

“Come, eat. You look pale.”

I let her guide me to a bench near the center. A plate was set in front of me—bread, eggs, roasted roots. I wasn’t hungry, but I needed something to do with my hands.

Mira sat across from me, lowering her voice. “Eira… the scouts who found you said Kael looked—” she hesitated, searching for the right word. “—different.”

I swallowed. “He was angry.”

“That’s never good,” she said carefully. “When Kael gets angry, things break.”

“People, too,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

Mira’s eyes softened. “He didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not sure he can help it.”

Silence stretched between us. Eventually she changed the topic.

“The council is waiting for you after breakfast. They want an update on the sickness.”

Of course they did.

I forced down a bite of bread and nodded.

A shadow shifted at the edge of the room. I stiffened before I even saw him.

Kael.

He stood by the doorway, speaking to one of the guards. Dressed fully now—dark trousers, a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair had dried, falling over his forehead. But it wasn’t his appearance that startled me.

It was his eyes.

They were on me.

Not glaring, not demanding—just watching. Silent. Steady. The same expression he’d worn as I fell asleep. As if he didn’t trust the world enough to look away.

A pulse fluttered in my throat.

I tore my gaze away and forced myself to breathe.

Mira noticed. “He’s been… off since last night.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

She nodded gently. “Then we won’t.”

***

After breakfast, I headed toward the small medical hut behind the main house, where I’d set up my workspace with the help of a few volunteers. The woods opened slightly here, sunlight dappling the ground. The sharp scent of herbs greeted me as soon as I pushed the door open.

Inside, jars lined the shelves—dried roots, powdered fungi, crushed bark, tinctures of various plants I’d been studying. The sickness that plagued the pack was still a mystery, but I had theories.

Dangerous ones.

I barely had time to tie my apron before footsteps sounded behind me. Heavy. Familiar.

I didn’t turn.

“You should’ve rested longer,” Kael said quietly.

I closed my eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You weren’t fine last night.”

“I said I’m fine.”

A pause. Then, “Eira.”

My name in his voice did things I wasn’t prepared for.

I faced him slowly.

He stood just inside the doorway, looking larger than the room allowed. But he kept his distance, careful, as if I were a frightened animal.

“I crossed a line yesterday,” he said. “I shouldn’t have let you see me like that.”

“The killing? Or the healing?”

His jaw tightened. “Both.”

I swallowed. “Kael… last night wasn’t just anger. I saw something in your eyes. Something wild.”

“That’s what I am.”

“You’re more than that.”

His brows pulled together, like he didn’t know what to do with those words.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said again, softer this time. “But I can’t change what I am. I won’t lie about that.”

“I don’t want you to lie.”

“Then believe me when I say this—” He stepped closer, stopping when I instinctively shifted back. His voice dropped. “I will never hurt you.”

The conviction in his tone made my chest tighten.

“I know,” I whispered. “It’s everyone else I’m worried about.”

Something flickered in his eyes. A wound I didn’t understand.

He changed the subject before I could push further. “The council wants to meet at noon. About the sickness. I’ll be there.”

“Of course you will.”

He hesitated at the door, hand braced against the frame. “If you need anything—”

“I won’t,” I said too quickly.

A shadow crossed his face. But he nodded once and left.

The moment he was gone, I felt the air return to my lungs.

Why did he do that? Why did he look at me like I tethered him to something he didn’t know how to name?

Why did part of me want to believe him?

***

The council meeting was worse than expected.

Seven elders sat at the long table, stern and expectant. Kael stood behind them, arms crossed, expression unreadable. I presented my findings—the slow progression of symptoms, the way the illness targeted the lungs first, then the bloodstream, then the mind. The herbs that eased pain but not fever. The alarming rate of deterioration.

And the most dangerous theory of all—the pattern.

“It behaves like a virus,” I said slowly. “But not one I’ve ever studied. Not natural.”

Murmurs rippled through the room.

“Are you saying someone created it?” one elder demanded.

“I’m saying it’s possible.”

“Impossible,” another growled. “Who would engineer something like this?”

I hesitated.

Kael’s gaze sharpened.

I couldn’t reveal everything. Not yet.

“I don’t know,” I lied.

But I did know where to start looking. I just didn’t have proof.

When the meeting ended, Kael followed me outside.

“You’re hiding something,” he said.

“I’m being cautious.”

“Cautious gets people killed.”

I stopped walking. “And rushing gets them killed faster.”

He studied me for a long moment. “If you need protection—”

“I don’t need you,” I snapped.

He went still, like I’d struck him.

The moment stretched uncomfortably long. I regretted the words instantly, but pride held my tongue.

Kael exhaled slowly. “Whether you want me or not doesn’t change the bond.”

I froze.

“We’re connected,” he said softly. “That’s not going away.”

His voice was quiet, but it hit harder than any shout.

I looked away. “I should get back to work.”

He let me go.

But his eyes never left me.

***

Evening brought exhaustion. My hands were stained with herbs, my head thrumming from too much thinking. I stepped outside the hut for air.

The wind was cool. The forest hummed softly. Lanterns flickered across the courtyard as people settled in for the night.

I thought I was alone until I felt the faintest shift in the air—the feeling of being watched.

“Kael,” I said without turning.

He stepped out of the shadows, expression unreadable.

“You shouldn’t walk alone at night,” he said.

“I didn’t know you were assigned as my shadow.”

“I wasn’t.”

I turned then.

“So why are you here?”

He hesitated. Then, quietly, “Because I couldn’t stay away.”

The world stilled.

My breath caught.

His eyes—usually so guarded—were open now, raw. The firelight caught the edges of him, softening all the hard lines.

“Eira,” he said, stepping closer, “I know you’re afraid of what you saw yesterday. But don’t run from me for something I can’t change.”

“I’m not running.”

“You were,” he said gently. “You still are.”

A lump formed in my throat. “I don’t know how to be around you.”

“I don’t know how to be around you either,” he admitted. “But I’m trying.”

My heart stuttered painfully.

He lifted a hand, slow enough to give me time to pull away. I didn’t. His fingers brushed my cheek, feather-light, as if asking a question he didn’t know how to speak.

For a moment, everything was quiet.

Then he stepped back.

“Goodnight, Eira.”

He walked away before I could respond.

I stood rooted to the spot long after his silhouette vanished into the dark.

I didn’t know what to think. What to feel. But one truth lingered, unwelcome and undeniable.

I was falling.

And it terrified me more than anything else in this place.