Chapter 5

I couldn’t stop the shiver that rippled through me when his words turned into scorching breath against my skin. The realization of his dangerous proximity blared in my mind like a feral warning howl. Instinct surged through me. I pressed both palms against his chest, solid as carved stone, and shoved him away with all the force I could gather.

Varyon’s eyes flickered with a provocative glint, as if my attempt to push him amused him more than it bothered him. A slow smirk tugged at his lips, revealing sharp, perfectly aligned teeth, teeth far too reminiscent of a predator barely restraining himself. His nearness had wrapped me in an electric haze, short-circuiting my thoughts and drowning out every rational instinct. His scent, wild, smoky, laced with alpha authority, intertwined with the adrenaline coursing through my veins, forming an intoxicating blend that made my senses spin.

I struggled to reclaim a fragment of clarity, to wrench myself free from the magnetic pull of his presence. My hands pushed harder against his unyielding torso, but he absorbed every attempt without effort. His quiet, controlled strength sparked frustration inside me, the way he didn’t even need to resist, the way he simply existed like an immovable force.

At last, he stepped back, rising to his full height with that effortless dominance only an alpha of the Crimson Fang Pack could wield. I remained on the ground, surrounded by my scattered arrows and quiver. He gazed down at me with mocking amusement, silently challenging me to rise to his level. To him, I wasn’t a threat. I wasn’t even close. I was an intriguing distraction, nothing more.

I pushed myself up, breath catching in my throat, my heart pounding like a drum echoing through the Shadowmoon forest. Anger mixed with something far more unsettling, a sensation that tangled too easily with the bond I refused to acknowledge.

How could I have let myself lose control so quickly?

Gathering my arrows gave me something to focus on, something to anchor me. I slid them into the quiver, refusing to meet his eyes. I needed distance. Logic. Anything to drown out the wild tug inside me.

When I finally turned toward camp, Varyon strode ahead, overtaking me without a word.

“Never turn your back on an opponent,” he called out, his voice cutting through the air like a command woven from dominance.

“And should I truly consider you my opponent, dear husband?” I asked, letting a thin layer of irony coat my voice.

He pivoted toward me, amusement sparking in his gaze, only to vanish a second later. His expression hardened, eyes darkening.

“You should think of me as more than that,” he said sharply, his tone stripped of humor.

My mouth parted, but no sound came out. Before I could form a single question, he shifted. His body contorted, shifting seamlessly into his wolf form, a massive shadow of silver and smoke. Without hesitation, he vanished into the forest, leaving only the whisper of his paws brushing the earth.

I stood frozen, breath tangled in my chest. Confusion gnawed at my thoughts as I forced myself to walk back toward camp. The forest swallowed the remnants of his presence, leaving me alone with questions I dared not voice.

By the time I reached the hut, my lungs burned from my frantic run. Branches swayed above me, rustling in the wind like distant warnings whispered by unseen spirits. The camp was deserted; the members of the Shadowmoon Pack had long returned to their dens.

But as I neared the door, a strange sensation washed over me, an instinctual prickling beneath my skin, the unmistakable feeling of unseen eyes fixed on my back. I stopped, scanning the trees, the shadows, the faint glow of the night lantern. Nothing moved… yet everything felt wrong.

A chill crept up my spine.

Still, I turned the rusty doorknob and stepped inside. A wave of warmth embraced me, the hearth still burning, chasing away the lingering frost of fear coiled inside me.

I placed my bow and quiver onto the wooden table, tracing the rough grain with my fingertips. My gaze drifted to the cupboard. I found a simple glass, filled it with cool water, and watched the liquid swirl as though it carried its own quiet magic. I lifted it to my lips, letting the freshness seep through me.

What I needed most was a shower, no, a moment of silence. A moment where the world wasn’t pressing in on me.

The corridor at the back of the hut felt oddly foreign, each step echoing with a strange heaviness. At the end, a cracked door waited, slightly ajar. I pushed it open.

A wave of eucalyptus and rose washed over me.

A breathtaking bathroom stood before me, marble floors gleaming, mirrors polished to perfection, candles flickering like fire spirits guarding the room. A deep sunken bathtub dominated the center, surrounded by warm, golden light. Fluffy towels lay neatly stacked at the side.

This belonged to Varyon?

I locked the door behind me and exhaled, letting the tension drain out. My clothes, filthy and clinging to my skin, fell to the floor piece by piece. The mirror reflected a version of me I hardly recognized, arms too thin, ribs too prominent, eyes tired in a way that couldn’t be hidden.

I brushed back my hair with trembling hands.

The bath filled with steaming water. When I finally lowered myself inside, the warmth wrapped around me like a protective cocoon. Bubbles drifted across my skin, and the candlelight danced over the marble walls.

It felt unreal. This heat. This comfort. This stillness.

I thought of the cold dens of my past. The freezing water. The constant shivering. My father. My sister. Were they happier now? Relieved? Had I always been… a stain? A defect?

Why had my father insisted on this alliance? What would happen when they discovered the truth about me, that I could not shift?

Would they kill me for it?

Tears blended with the bathwater. The heat embraced me, as though trying to mend the fractures in my spirit.

I sank beneath the surface. The world blurred into silence. My hair floated around me, weightless. My worries drifted outside the boundary of the water, dissolving like bubbles breaking on the surface.

A voice, faint, distant, echoed in my ears.

Then, abruptly, hands. Strong, unyielding hands seized my shoulders and pulled me upward. I gasped, lungs burning, eyes flying open.

Varyon stood over me.

Light streamed through the window behind him, sunlight. Warm. Golden. Impossible.

It had been night when I’d entered the bath.

Confusion crashed into me like a wave. How long had I been here? Why couldn’t I remember falling asleep? The edges of my thoughts felt blurred, fragmented.

Varyon’s expression, usually carved from stone, was twisted with something I had never seen on him, 

Worry— real, raw concern.

The water had gone cold. My body trembled. Vulnerability clung to me like a second skin.

Without speaking, he extended a towel, a small gesture, yet filled with surprising tenderness.

He turned away as I stood, trying to salvage a shred of dignity. When I stepped out of the tub, he faced me again, eyes locked on mine, searching, questioning, trying to understand the darkness swirling inside me.

Without a word, he guided me to what must have been his room. He pulled back the bedding, motioning silently for me to lie down.

Too exhausted to resist, I slipped beneath the blankets. My eyelids grew heavy. Darkness tugged at me.

And I surrendered to it.