Chapter 4: The Heat Between

Lyra

The lie settled into her bones like poison.

They had been walking all night since the run in with the Tribunal Moon Council.

By the time they made it to the outer edge of Ronan’s territory, an old, stone-bound keep tucked deep into the mountains, the pulse of the bond had grown stronger, bolder. A living thing, no longer content to simmer quietly under her skin.

It throbbed now. Especially when she looked at him, which she refused to do.

The guards let them pass with barely a glance. That should’ve comforted her. Instead, it made her stomach twist. The lie seemed to be setting in.

“Alpha” said a man who came running toward us. “We received this. It appeared out of thin air”. A piece of paper he was now handing to Ronan. 

It was from the Council.

“They want us to be seen,” Ronan said, voice tight as they stepped through the heavy wooden doors reading the paper aloud. “Together.”

“In public?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“And in private.”

She spun to face him, fury sparking in her chest. “You’re joking.”

His jaw tensed. “They've sent a notice. If we don’t make a display of this bond, they’ll start peeling us apart.”

“Let them try.”

He moved closer. Too close. His scent curled around her like smoke and cedar. “You’re brave. I’ll give you that. But recklessness will get you killed.”

Her throat went dry.

“You’re staying here tonight,” he added. “Under my roof. In my room.”

“No.”

“Lyra.”

She hated the way her name sounded in his mouth, like a threat and a promise wrapped in velvet.

“I’ll sleep in the woods if I have to,” she said.

Ronan’s smile was slow. Dangerous. “That won’t help the illusion. I can only have everyone here believe it. The fake claim. The bond. The ownership. BUT the Tribunal Moon Council wants proof.”

Ronan

He didn’t want her here. Okay, that was a lie.

He wanted her everywhere. Wanted her scent soaked into the mattress of his bed, his skin marked by her nails. But that was the bond talking. The heat. The pull of something neither of them were ready for. And neither of them wanted? Or so it seemed.

She glared at him like she could see all the way down to the mess of thoughts clawing behind his calm.

But she followed him.

Inside the keep, everything echoed. Cold stone walls. Flickering torchlight. Silence broken only by their footsteps and the steady, simmering hum of the bond.

He opened the heavy wooden door to his chamber. She stopped in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Tell me you have more than one bed.”

“I do.”

Relief flickered in her eyes.

“I just don’t plan to use it.”

She scowled. “You’re an ass.”

“Still true.”

He moved to the window, staring out into the darkness. “The Council will check in tomorrow. They want to see the bond. Smell it. Feel it.”

She stepped closer. “What does that mean, exactly?”

He turned slowly.

“It means,” he said, “if you won’t let me claim you in truth, you’ll need to act like you’ve already been marked.”

Her cheeks flushed. But she didn’t back away.

“They’ll expect us to be… intimate, close, feral..” he grinned.

Her breath caught. “Is this some sick game to you?”

“No,” he said. “This is survival. And this is our way out of this.”

Lyra

She didn’t sleep.

Or rather, she tried.

But the second her head hit the pillow, the bond surged, dragging her under.

It was a dream. But not.

Her feet were bare. The forest was silent. The air, thick with heat. She turned around and there he was.

Ronan.

Shirtless. Breathless. Eyes glowing like the moon had crawled into his skull.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

“I’m not.” His voice sounded strange; low and too close. “You pulled me in.”

She took a step back. “Liar.”

But even her magic buzzed with agreement. They were inside the bond now. Shared space. No lies. No walls. No way to run.

He stalked forward. She held her ground.

“Why are you scared of this?” he asked.

“I’m not.”

He stopped inches away. His hand lifted; hesitated; then brushed a curl from her cheek. Her skin burned beneath it.

“You want me,” he said softly. “Even if you hate me.”

She opened her mouth to deny it.

He kissed her.

Hard. Deep. Desperate. Passionate.

And by the gods, she kissed him back.

It was heat and hot and wreaked ruin, her fingers in his hair, his hands at her waist, the bond roaring around them.

When she woke, she was gasping, sweating, fists tangled in the sheets. Looking up. Ronan was standing in the doorway.

Watching her. Breathing just as hard.

“I felt it too,” he said.

Ronan

He didn’t dream anymore.

Hadn’t, not since he was a boy. But that night, the bond yanked him into the dark and threw him at her feet.

He tasted her.

He touched her.

And when he woke, it was like his skin didn’t fit right. Like he was still inside the dream. Inside her.

He didn’t mean to go to her room.

He just… couldn’t help himself. His wolf roared with desire. Leading him to her room.

And when he saw her, tossing and twisting in the sheets, lips parted like she was still kissing him, it broke something in him.

The second her eyes flew open, he knew she remembered.

“I felt it too,” he said.

She sat up, wrapped in blankets and confusion and heat.

Her voice was hoarse. “We need to control this.”

“You can’t control fate,” he said. “Only delay it.”

“I don’t want this.” But her voice cracked.

He moved to her bed. Sat on the edge.

Her heart pounded so loud he could hear it.

“Your magic’s unraveling,” he said. “I can feel it. You’re slipping.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

She tried to stand. He caught her wrist.

Power surged between them.

Her eyes widened. “Gods, what is that?”

“The bond,” he said. “You’re fighting it. Your magic’s lashing out.”

“Then let go of me!”

“If I do, it’ll get worse.”

She stared at him.

He cupped her jaw again.

Magic pulsed beneath her skin, it was frantic, unstable. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Let me ground it,” he whispered.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just trembled.

Then, slowly,slowly, she leaned in. Putting her head to his.

Lyra

The moment their skin touched, everything stopped burning.

Her magic quieted. The bond softened. The storm settled.

She hated how good it felt.

Hated how badly she wanted to curl into him, to breathe him in, to let the bond wrap around her like a blanket and a chain.

His fingers slid into her hair. Her hands fisted in his shirt.

They stayed like that—forehead to forehead, heart to heart—until the world stopped spinning.

When she finally pulled back, his eyes were heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide.

“You felt it calm,” he said. “Didn’t you?”

She nodded. Barely.

“Then stop fighting me.”

She swallowed. “I can’t.”

“You will,” he said softly. “Or this bond will burn us both alive.”

“So let it burn us”...so she thought.