Chapter 5 - Heat in the Blood

Eli

Everything around me smells like him.

Even hours later, his scent clings to the air and the mark on my neck throbs in time with my heartbeat. I press my palm to it, willing it to stop.

It doesn’t.

I don’t sleep. I sit on the cot and stare at the door, knees pulled up, waiting for it to open again.

It doesn’t.

But outside, the pack is moving.

I hear the distant low howl of wolves under the moon, the thud of boots, the crackle of fire.

Once in a while, a scent drifts through the barred window. Hot musk, sharp and wild, and it stirs something I don’t want touched, a knot pulling tighter inside.

My wolf stirs restlessly. My body is not my own.

By midday, Jace shows up again, leaning in the doorway with his arms folded.

“Get up,” he says.

I don’t move. “Where are we going?”

“Alpha wants you to see how we live.”

He smirks, eyes flicking to my neck. “Better than rotting in here, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer and he shrugs and steps aside.

I hesitate, considering the possibility of bolting for freedom.

It would be stupid to attempt that with half the pack outside. And with the bond tugging me toward him like a leash.

Instead I step out into the sunlight.

The camp looks different in daylight. Even more dangerous.

Wolves lounge on cabin steps sharpening knives or cleaning weapons.

Some are half‑shifted. Claws at the ends of their fingers, eyes glowing faintly gold. Others are fully shifted, padding through the snow‑muddied paths with ears twitching.

I feel eyes on me from every direction.

Jace leads me to the central clearing, where a firepit smokes.

Beyond it, a raised platform stands, carved with old runes that make my stomach knot.

An older wolf, white‑haired but still powerful, chants over a bowl of herbs, the smoke sharp in my nose.

“What’s he doing?” I ask quietly.

“Rite of Binding,” Jace says flatly. “Alphas do it before a rut to keep control.”

I stop walking. “Rut?” My voice comes out hushed.

He glances at me like I’m stupid. “How can you live among wolves without knowing that? When the moon’s full and the blood runs hot, Alphas go feral with need. You’d better pray he binds himself properly before it hits, or he’ll take whatever’s his.”

My skin prickles. “You mean-”

“I mean you’re marked,” Jace cuts in, low and matter‑of‑fact.

“You’re his. When the rut takes him, he won’t ask. He won’t stop. The bond’ll drag you down with him, and your wolf will beg for it.”

A shudder cuts through me, frost at first—then fire, deep and wrong, gripping my body before my mind catches up. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“He wouldn’t-” I start, but Jace snorts.

“You don’t know Ronan Vale. You’re lucky he hasn’t taken you already.”

He steers me forward again, toward the edge of the clearing. “Pray you never see him in full rut. That’s my best advice.”

I think about that all afternoon as I’m shoved into doing chores.

Carrying water, stacking wood under watchful eyes. The pack members don’t speak to me except in clipped orders. Their stares follow me like knives.

And underneath it all, I feel him. A constant hum in my chest, in my skin, like I’m tethered to something massive and predatory that’s pacing just out of sight.

When I’m finally shoved back into the cabin, the sun is bleeding out behind the trees.

I collapse onto the cot, muscles aching. The air feels charged and my wolf shifts uneasily, ears pricking.

Then I hear it.

A howl, low and raw, carrying through the trees.

Not like the others.

This one makes the hair on my arms stand up. My chest tightens. The mark on my neck burns.

Footsteps approach. Heavy and deliberate. The door opens without a knock.

Ronan fills the doorway again.

His eyes glow brighter in the dusk, feral gold.

His shirt is open, tattoos stark against sweat‑damp skin, and I can smell him everywhere.

The scent is thick and dark, sharp with something that makes my head swim.

He steps inside and shuts the door. Slowly. Deliberately.

I stand, backing toward the far wall. “Stay away from me.”

A slow smile curves his mouth. There’s nothing kind in it.

“You feel it, don’t you?” His voice is deeper than before, rough edges catching on each word.

“The moon pulling. The bond singing.”

“Stop,” I rasp, pressing my back to the wall.

My heart hammers. The ache in my neck spreads lower, hotter.

He stalks closer, unhurried, like a predator toying with prey.

“I told myself I’d wait. Let you settle. But you walk through my camp lacing the air with the scent of your desire…”

His nostrils flare. His jaw tightens. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

“Don’t-” My voice breaks. “Don’t touch me.”

Ronan’s hand slams into the wall beside my head, making me flinch.

He leans in, eyes dark and hungry, his breath hot against my face.

“I don’t ask, pup,” he murmurs, lips curving in that cruel smile. “I take.”

His thumb brushes my lower lip, slow and possessive.

Once more, my own body defies me. Breath stuttering, a flush curling through me, my stance faltering while every thought screams to resist. To tun

He catches it and his smile turns feral.

“Hate me all you want,” he whispers, voice like gravel and smoke. “It won’t make any difference to me.”

He steps back just enough to let me breathe, but his presence still crushes me.

He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a specimen pinned here for his perusal.

And the worst part is, the bond hums in agreement.