Chapter 6 – A Dangerous Scent

The days following the sparring session rippled with whispers.

Every corner of the pack house buzzed with speculation: the Alpha King had been injured, the rejected Omega had touched him, and—most scandalous of all—he had allowed it.

Aria tried to keep her head down, returning to the infirmary and drowning herself in work. She scrubbed linens, ground herbs, checked poultices twice over, anything to keep her hands busy so her mind wouldn’t drift back to him.

But it was useless.

Every time she closed her eyes, she felt again the rough warmth of his skin beneath her fingers, saw the intensity of his silver gaze. Worse than the memory was the truth: she could still sense him, lingering, as if the spark between them had branded itself into her very soul.

And yet she told herself it meant nothing. It had to mean nothing.

Selene noticed her distraction.

“You’ve been walking around like a ghost,” Selene teased one afternoon as they folded linens together. “Don’t tell me the King’s little scrape left you lovesick.”

Aria’s cheeks burned. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Selene smirked, but her eyes sharpened. “Still. Everyone’s talking. You were the one to touch him. The only one.”

Aria shook her head quickly. “Because I’m a healer. That’s all.”

“Hmm,” Selene hummed, unconvinced.

Kaelen, meanwhile, was equally restless.

The wound on his arm healed quickly, thanks to Aria’s skill, but his thoughts did not.

He had dismissed her at the edge of the forest, yet her presence lingered, stubborn and unyielding. Worse, his wolf stirred uneasily whenever he recalled her scent.

It was faint, almost buried beneath the earthy tang of herbs and the dull note of Omega submissiveness. But beneath it, layered deep, something else pulsed—a quiet, elusive fragrance that tugged at him like a thread through the dark.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t what she should be.

And Kaelen hated puzzles he could not solve.

Three days after training, he found himself striding toward the infirmary under the guise of “checking the bandage.” His guards remained outside as he entered, his presence filling the small space instantly.

Aria, bent over a table mixing salves, stiffened at once.

“My King,” she whispered, bowing her head.

His gaze swept over her—too quickly, too thoroughly. “Your work?”

“Yes, my King.” Her hands shook faintly as she set down the pestle.

He extended his arm. “Examine.”

Her breath caught. She reached for him, her fingers brushing the bandage she had tied days ago. She carefully unwound it, revealing smooth, newly healed skin.

“It’s closed,” she murmured, almost to herself. “You heal quickly.”

“Wolves heal quickly,” he corrected.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing more. She cleaned the area one last time, though it didn’t need it.

All the while, Kaelen’s gaze bore into her. And closer now, unmasked by distance or distraction, that faint note of scent stirred again.

His wolf surged restlessly. Mate? the animal inside him whispered, only to recoil at the impossibility.

Kaelen’s jaw tightened. Impossible. She was a rejected Omega, her fate sealed by another bond already broken. Whatever this was, it wasn’t the mate bond. He would not be fooled.

Still, he found himself leaning slightly closer, his breath stirring a lock of her hair. Her scent teased him—fragile, hidden, like something caged.

Aria froze. Her pulse thundered so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

“You… should avoid strain for another day,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Kaelen’s eyes narrowed. He could feel the tremor in her, the awareness sparking between them. It unsettled him, threatened his control.

Finally, he stepped back, his mask sliding into place. “You’ve done your duty. Continue it.”

He turned and left without another word.

But the moment he was gone, Aria pressed trembling fingers to her lips. Why did she feel like she could hardly breathe around him? Why did her wolf stir faintly—a wolf she thought long buried after her rejection?

She tried to shake the thought away. It was madness. Nothing more.

Selene arrived not long after, cheerful as always. But when she caught sight of Aria’s flushed face and trembling hands, her smile faltered.

“What happened?” she asked sharply.

“Nothing,” Aria said too quickly.

Selene’s eyes narrowed. She crossed the room, gripping Aria’s wrist. “Was he here?”

Aria flinched. “Selene—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Aria hesitated, then whispered, “He only came to check the wound.”

Selene released her slowly, but her gaze was dark. “And?”

“And nothing,” Aria insisted, though her voice lacked conviction. “He is the Alpha King. I am nothing. That’s all.”

But Selene heard the unspoken tremor, saw the way her friend’s eyes refused to meet hers.

Jealousy coiled sharp in her chest.

Selene had always stood by Aria, always defended her when others mocked or spat at her. But deep down, she had her own dreams—dreams of being seen, of being chosen, of rising above her low station. Dreams that now seemed threatened by the very friend she had protected.

The King had noticed Aria. That much was clear. And Selene hated it.

That evening, the pack hosted another feast in Kaelen’s honor.

Aria did her best to keep to the shadows, serving quietly at the tables, avoiding his gaze. But every time she glanced up, she caught him watching her. Not openly, never enough to draw attention, but his silver eyes tracked her movements, deliberate and unyielding.

Selene noticed too.

By the time the feast ended, Selene’s nails had dug crescent moons into her palms.

Later, when they returned to their small quarters, Selene finally broke.

“You need to be careful,” she said sharply, pacing the room.

Aria blinked at her. “Careful of what?”

“Of him,” Selene snapped. “The King. You think I don’t see it? The way he looks at you? The way you… look back?”

Aria’s cheeks flushed hot. “I don’t—”

“Don’t lie,” Selene cut in. Her voice trembled, part anger, part fear. “You’re playing with fire, Aria. He is not for you. He is not for anyone.”

“I know that!” Aria shot back, surprising even herself with the vehemence in her tone. “I know what I am. I know my place. Do you think I asked for his attention?”

Silence fell heavy between them.

Finally, Selene’s shoulders sagged. “No,” she admitted softly. “But it doesn’t matter. The pack won’t forgive you if you draw his eye. And he—he’ll destroy you without meaning to.”

Aria turned away, her throat tight. She wanted to argue, to say she could handle it, but deep down she feared Selene was right.

Yet still, when she closed her eyes, she saw silver eyes burning into hers, felt the sparks on her skin.

And somewhere in the deepest recesses of her heart, a dangerous whisper stirred.

What if he’s not looking at me by mistake?

Meanwhile, in his guest chambers, Kaelen stood by the window, staring out at the moonlit forest. His bandaged arm rested at his side, healed but still thrumming with memory.

Her scent haunted him.

He had traveled across countless packs, met countless wolves, fought and killed Alphas, but never—not once—had a mere Omega’s scent unsettled him this way.

It made no sense.

And Kaelen despised things that made no sense.

His wolf growled low inside him, restless, suspicious. She is not what she seems.

Kaelen’s jaw clenched. “No,” he muttered aloud. “She cannot be.”

But doubt had already taken root.

And the King of Wolves never ignored a threat—or a mystery.