Chapter 4

Nyx

The power hadn’t come from the forest.

It came from me.

Even hours later, as I trailed behind Caspian through the early morning fog, I could still feel it under my skin—warm, buzzing, like lightning waiting for a storm.

I didn’t understand it. Didn’t know what it meant. But one thing was crystal clear:

I was not just an omega.

Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

And Caspian had seen it.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask questions. Just stood there like a solid wall of heat and calm while the ground shifted beneath my feet.

Like he knew.

The silence stretched between us now, broken only by the crunch of leaves under our boots and the occasional distant cry of a crow. He hadn’t spoken since we left the glade, and I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or furious.

Because I had a million questions. And not one of them I was ready to say out loud.

“Where are we going?” I asked finally, just to break the noise in my head.

“There’s a cabin a few miles out. It’s not much, but it’s safe.”

Safe.

The word shouldn’t have meant anything. I hadn’t felt truly safe in years.

But something about the way he said it—like it was a promise he meant to keep—settled some of the tension in my chest.

Still, I wasn’t letting my guard down.

Not completely.

He’s just another alpha, I reminded myself.

And alphas always want something.

Except… he hadn’t asked for anything.

No questions. No demands. No lectures about pack or destiny or the Moon’s will.

He’d stayed. That’s it.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because every time he looked at me with those molten gold eyes—like I was something he didn’t understand but couldn’t walk away from—I felt something pull tighter between us.

Not just the bond.

Something else.

Something… dangerous.

We reached a narrow creek, and Caspian paused. He reached out a hand to help me across the slick rocks, but I didn’t take it. I stepped on my own—and promptly slipped, nearly falling sideways.

His hand shot out, steadying me by the waist, fingers splayed across my hip.

My breath caught.

His touch wasn’t rough. It wasn’t possessive.

It was solid. Anchoring.

I looked up, ready to snap something sharp—but the words died when I met his gaze.

Caspian looked as startled as I felt.

His hand dropped like I’d burned him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

My voice came out hoarse. Too soft.

We stood there, five seconds too long, locked in the kind of tension that made my blood hum.

Then I moved. Fast. Across the rest of the rocks without help, without looking back.

Don’t do this, I told myself.

Don’t start needing him.

Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it?

The slow, creeping ache of wanting something I didn’t trust.

Didn’t understand.

And the worst part?

It didn’t feel like it was just mine.

My wolf—who had been silent and wounded since Kade’s rejection—was pacing again. Her ears perked every time Caspian spoke, her tail twitching like she wanted to get closer.

He feels like home, she whispered.

I shut her out.

We reached the cabin just after midday. It was small, tucked into the trees with moss crawling up one side. Weathered, but sturdy. Caspian pushed open the door, scanning the interior like a soldier.

“Clear,” he said, then turned back to me. “You hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

He walked inside without another word, leaving the door open behind him.

I hesitated.

I could still run.

But where would I go?

Back to Kade? Back to a pack that had never seen me?

No. This wasn’t surrender.

It was something else.

I stepped inside.

________________

Caspian

I’ve survived near-death fights. Rogue ambushes. Betrayals from the wolves I trusted with my life.

But nothing—nothing—was as hard as keeping my damn hands off Nyx.

She sat on the edge of the old couch, damp from the rain, her legs tucked under her, wrapped in one of my flannel shirts like she belonged in it.

Like she belonged here.

And the worst part? She didn’t even know what she was doing to me.

The bond was burning slow but hot, coiled between us like smoke you couldn’t see until it was already filling your lungs.

My wolf clawed just under the surface.

Touch her.

Smell her. Pull her into your lap and feel what’s already yours.

I clenched my fists and turned away, pretending to check the firewood pile. Anything to not look at her again.

Because if I did…

I wouldn’t stop at looking.

“I can feel you pacing,” she said quietly behind me.

Damn.

“Not pacing,” I muttered. “Just… thinking.”

She didn’t reply, but I could hear her heartbeat. Steady. Calm. Not afraid of me.

Which made it worse.

She trusted me.

And I didn’t deserve it.

“I can sleep on the floor,” I offered, still not looking at her.

There was only one couch. One bed. One room. Too small for two wolves with this kind of pull between them.

She snorted. “If you try to be noble right now, I will throw something at you.”

My lips twitched. “Noted.”

I finally glanced back.

Her dark eyes met mine across the room. Curious. Tired. And guarded—but not cold.

She didn’t want to run anymore. I could see it in the way she sat still, even when everything inside her was buzzing.

She was trying to trust me.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

Because trust led to connection. Connection to mating.

And mating?

Mating led to death.

Not hers.

Mine.

I tore my gaze away again, jaw tight. “You should get some rest.”

“Stop trying to change the subject.”

“I’m not.”

She stood.

The sound of her moving—soft feet on old wood, the brush of fabric—made my whole body go still.

She came up behind me, stopping just close enough that I could feel her heat.

Not touching.

But close.

Too close.

“You’re fighting it,” she said softly. “The bond.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t ask why.

Didn’t push.

But she didn’t leave, either.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to see her in my peripheral vision.

“I’ve lost before, Nyx. I know what it costs.”

“I’m not her.”

“No,” I said. “You’re worse.”

Her brows furrowed.

“Because you make me want again,” I said, voice low, ragged. “And wanting… that’s the first step to breaking.”

A long silence stretched between us. Her breath hitched just once before she said:

“Then maybe it’s time you break, Caspian.”

I spun.

Not because I meant to.

Because her words hit something raw and buried, and suddenly I needed to see her face, needed to see if she meant it.

And she did.

Her eyes were on fire.

Not literally, not yet—but I could see it building.

Power, yes. But something else too.

Desire.

My restraint snapped, just a little.

I reached out—then stopped myself, hand inches from her cheek.

“Don’t tempt me, Nyx.”

“I’m not,” she whispered. “I’m choosing you.”

Gods.

I couldn’t take another second.

I stepped back.

Forced myself to breathe.

“You need sleep,” I said hoarsely. “And I need distance.”

Then I turned and walked straight out the damn door.

Into the cold night. Into the rain.

Because if I stayed, I wouldn’t just want her.

I’d take her.

And I didn’t want her first real choice after rejection to be a mistake she couldn’t undo.