Cold and Close

Lyra's POV

The cave smells like wet stone and old smoke.

The air inside is cold enough to bite. It carries the scent of damp earth and ashes left behind by travelers long gone. Water drips somewhere deep in the dark, each drop drumming softly against the stone walls.

Kael shoves me inside first.

I stumble a step before catching myself against the rough wall, wincing as pain shoots through my ankle.

A moment later, Kael ducks in after me. Without wasting time, he grabs a fallen branch from outside and drags it across the entrance, covering it with loose leaves and vines.

It won't fool anyone for long. But it might buy us a few minutes. Right now, minutes are all we have.

Outside, distant howls roll through the forest. Closer than before. His pack, searching in pairs.

The sound sends another chill down my spine.

I slide down the cave wall until I'm sitting on the cold ground and draw in a shaky breath. The adrenaline that kept me moving is wearing off, leaving nothing but exhaustion and a throbbing ankle.

Kael notices right away. He doesn't ask permission. He crouches in front of me, lifts my injured leg onto his lap, and starts examining it with surprising care.

His fingers press lightly around the swelling. Firm enough to check the damage. Gentle enough not to make it worse.

I frown. It doesn't make sense. Ten minutes ago, this man was chasing me through the forest. Now he's treating me like I might break.

"Sprained," he says after a moment. "Not broken."

"How do you know?"

One corner of his mouth lifts. "I've broken enough of my own."

He tears a strip from the bottom of his pants with practiced ease. The sound of ripping fabric fills the small cave. He wraps the cloth around my ankle, tight enough to support the joint. His knuckles brush my skin.

Warm. Steady. I hate that I notice.

The cave is barely eight feet across. One narrow entrance. No second way out. If his pack finds us, there'll be nowhere to run.

When Kael finishes, I gently pull my leg back.

"Thanks," I say quietly.

The word surprises both of us.

He sits back on his heels and studies me, like he's trying to solve a puzzle that doesn't add up.

In the dim light, his eyes aren't glowing gold anymore. They look almost human. Dark and tired.

"You're not from a stray pack," he says. "Your stance is wrong. You were trained."

I keep my face blank. I'm not giving him anything.

"You're also not from any pack I know," he goes on. "Which means you're lying about who you are, or you're from far enough away that the stories haven't reached you yet."

"Which stories?"

"The ones about me. The ones where I don't let people go."

A gust of wind shifts the branch at the entrance. We both freeze. Slow footsteps sound outside. The sound lingers for a long moment before fading into the forest.

Kael lets out a slow breath. "We have maybe an hour before they circle back."

I wrap my arms around my knees. "Then why bring me here? Why not just take me to your house?"

His jaw tightens. "Because the moment I bring you to North Ridge, the pack decides what happens to you." He pauses. "And I haven't decided yet."

"Decided what?"

His gaze settles on mine. "If you're a threat." Another pause. "Or someone I need to protect."

"I don't need your protection."

A faint smile touches his lips before it disappears. "Maybe not."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small metal flask. "Drink."

I hesitate, then take it. Our fingers brush for the briefest moment. Neither of us pulls away right away. The water is cool against my dry throat.

When I hand the flask back, my voice comes out quieter. "Why do you know my name?"

He watches me before answering. "Because I've smelled you before."

I blink.

"In dreams," he says. His gaze drifts toward the entrance. "In moonlight. My wolf knew you before I did."

My fingers tighten around my knees. "That's not possible."

"It is. For mates."

The word lands between us like a stone dropped into still water.

My heart lurches. I open my mouth, ready to deny it, ready to tell him he's wrong.

But he's closer than he was a second ago. I don't remember him moving. The cave feels smaller now, the space between us barely anything at all. His thumb strokes once along my jaw, and my breath stutters.

“Kael...”

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he says slowly, voice low and rough. “Tell me your wolf isn’t answering mine right now.”

My mind tells me to shove him away but my body doesn't.

Instead, my hands find his bare chest, warm, solid under my palms. His skin is fever-hot against the cold air of the cave. I can feel the hard shift of muscle when he leans in closer.

His eyes drop to my mouth, just for a second, like he's fighting something.

I can feel the heat rolling off his body, the faint brush of his breath against my lips. He’s close enough that the smallest movement would close the distance. My pulse hammers so hard. I’m sure he can feel it under his thumb. His own breathing has gone uneven.

A sharp sniff cuts through the silence.

We both snap toward the entrance. A silhouette passes across the branch covering the cave.

Then a voice comes from outside. "Alpha?"

A pause. "You in there?"

Kael's eyes lock with mine. For the first time since I met him, he looks cornered.

He rises without another word and steps in front of me, shielding me from the entrance.

"Don't make a sound," he whispers.