CHAPTER 4 Learning the Shape of Him

The pack house was quieter that evening.

Most of the wolves were out on patrol, leaving the large common room bathed in low firelight and the golden glow of sunset through the tall windows. Lena sat cross-legged on the wide rug near the hearth, a mug of something herbal and unfamiliar warming her hands.

She could hear Kael moving in the kitchen behind her — steady, unhurried sounds. A knife against a cutting board. A cabinet closing. The domestic normalcy of it clashed so hard with alpha werewolf that it almost made her smile.

“You cook?” she called.

“I can,” he replied. “Leadership doesn’t exempt me from basic survival.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “You say that like you’ve had to prove it.”

A pause. Then, “Alphas who think they’re above their pack don’t stay alphas long.”

There was history in that sentence. Heavy, old history.

He brought over a bowl and sat across from her instead of beside her — leaving space. Always giving her space.

She noticed.

“What happens now?” she asked quietly. “With me.”

“We go at your pace,” he said. “You learn control. Learn the pack. Learn yourself.”

“And the bond?”

His eyes lifted to hers, firelight catching gold in his irises. “We let it exist without forcing it to define you.”

Her chest tightened — in a good way. A way that felt like trust starting to root.

“You’re not what I expected,” she admitted.

“What did you expect?”

“More… growling. Less emotional intelligence.”

A faint smile curved his mouth. “I can growl if it helps the image.”

She laughed, the sound surprising both of them. It felt good. Easy.

Silence settled, but it wasn’t awkward. Just warm.

After a moment, she said, softer, “Were you scared last night?”

His fingers stilled against the bowl in his hands.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Because of the rogues?”

His gaze didn’t leave hers. “Because you screamed.”

The honesty of it stole her breath.

“I didn’t even know you,” she whispered.

“I did,” he said. “I knew the second I saw you.”

The air shifted again, that quiet gravity pulling them closer even without movement.

“What does it feel like?” she asked. “From your side.”

He took a slow breath, like choosing words carefully. “Like my instincts are louder… but my choices matter more. Like protecting you is written into my bones, but earning your trust is something I have to deserve.”

Emotion rose fast and unexpected in her throat.

No one had ever spoken about wanting her like that — not as possession, not as fate…

As responsibility.

Her voice came out small. “I don’t want to be something you’re obligated to.”

“You aren’t,” he said immediately. “The bond may have started this… but what grows from it is ours to choose.”

Her heart thudded harder, slower. Deep.

Without fully deciding to, she shifted closer across the rug. Not touching.

Just nearer.

His breath changed — barely — but she heard it.

“I don’t feel trapped,” she said. “I feel… steadier. When you’re near.”

His eyes darkened with emotion, not hunger. Not dominance.

Relief.

“That’s all I want,” he said.

For a long moment they just sat there, the fire popping softly between them, the world outside distant and unimportant.

Then the front door opened.

Cold air swept in.

Lena turned to see Ronan step inside, hair wind-tossed, jaw tight like he’d been running hard. His gaze landed on them sitting close by the fire.

Something flickered across his face — gone almost instantly.

“Perimeter’s clear,” he said, voice even. “For now.”

Kael nodded once. “Good.”

Ronan’s eyes shifted to Lena. Softer. Searching. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, but the word felt more complicated now.

Because she was okay.

And that — for reasons she didn’t yet understand — seemed to make things harder, not easier.

Ronan gave a short nod, but his attention lingered a second too long before he turned away.

The room felt smaller after that.

Warmer near Kael.

Colder where Ronan stood.

And Lena sat right in the middle, her heart beginning to understand something her mind wasn’t ready to admit:

Loving one of them might be destiny.

Hurting the other might be inevitable.