Chapter 9: Proximity Burns

Nyra’s POV

I make it three steps before the bond flares so violently I have to stop.

My hand flies to the wall, steadying myself. The corrupted connection burns through my chest, ice and fire warring under my skin. Being this close to Kael after five years of distance is unbearable.

"Nyra."

His voice behind me. Too close.

I don't turn around. "I told you not to use that name."

"What am I supposed to call you?"

"Nothing." I force myself to straighten. "We have nothing to say to each other."

"We're standing in a corridor alone. Clearly we have something to say."

I spin to face him. Mistake. He's closer than I thought, maybe two feet away, and the bond screams at the proximity. His scent hits me like a physical thing—pine and smoke and something uniquely him that I spent five years trying to forget.

My body responds before my mind can stop it. Heat pools low in my stomach. My skin feels too tight.

I hate it. Hate that after everything, my traitorous body still recognizes him as mate.

"You want to talk?" I ask, my voice colder than I feel. "Fine. Let's talk about how you didn't even have the decency to reject the bond properly, so I've spent five years feeling you on the other end of this twisted connection."

His jaw tightens. "I didn't know it would corrupt…."

"You didn't care." The words come out sharp. "You cared about your pack. About your reputation. About what the Council wanted. You didn't care what happened to me."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?" I take a step forward. The bond flares brighter. "Then why didn't you come after me?"

Silence.

The answer is written all over his face. Guilt. Regret. But also the cold calculation of an alpha who chose duty over everything else.

"I did search," he says quietly. "I sent wolves to the forest edge. When they found nothing, when everyone said you were dead…"

"You were relieved."

His head snaps up. "No."

"Liar." I can feel the truth through the bond. Underneath the guilt and regret is a thin thread of something that was almost relief. Because if I was dead, he didn't have to face what he'd done. "You buried it and moved on. Built your perfect pack. Became the perfect alpha."

"There was nothing perfect about it." His voice roughens. "I've lived with what I did every single day."

"Good."

The word is vicious. I want him to hurt.

But we're standing too close now. Close enough that I can see the silver threading through his dark hair. Close enough to notice the shadows under his eyes, the lines that speak of sleepless nights.

He looks like someone who's been suffering.

I tell myself I don't care.

My wolf stirs, restless and conflicted. She recognizes him. Despite everything, despite the corruption, she still knows him as mate.

No, I tell her firmly. He rejected us.

But the bond doesn't care about rejection. It pulses between us, violent and wrong, dragging desire up through the pain.

"Why did you really come here?" Kael asks. His voice has dropped lower. "To expose the Council? Or to make me suffer?"

"Can't it be both?"

"Nyra……"

"Stop!." I hold up a hand. "Stop saying my name like that. Like you have any right to it."

"We're mates."

The word lands like a bomb.

"No." My voice shakes. "We were mates. Until you stood in front of hundreds and declared I wasn't worthy."

He flinches. "I was young. Scared. The Council said…."

"I don't care what they said." I'm close enough now to see the storm-gray of his eyes. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. "You made a choice. You chose them over me."

"I chose my pack's survival."

"By sacrificing me."

Silence falls heavy between us. The bond throbs with everything unsaid. I can feel his emotions bleeding through—guilt, longing, desperate need to fix something that can't be fixed.

His hand rises. Slowly. Like he's reaching for me without conscious thought.

I jerk backward before he can make contact.

"Don't." The word comes out breathless. "You don't get to touch me. You lost that right five years ago."

His hand drops. But he doesn't step back.

Neither do I.

We stand there, barely two feet apart, the corrupted bond screaming between us. The air feels electric. Charged with all the things we're not saying, all the desire we're trying to deny.

"I can feel what you're feeling," he says quietly. "Through the bond. You're not as unaffected as you pretend."

Heat floods my cheeks. Because he's right. I can feel him too. The way his wolf is going feral with proximity. The way his body is responding to mine despite everything between us.

The way he still wants me.

And I hate….. absolutely hate, that some broken part of me still wants him too.

"What I feel," I say carefully, "is biology. The bond recognizes you even though it's twisted and wrong. My body responds because that's what corrupted mate bonds do. It doesn't mean anything."

"Doesn't it?"

His voice has gone rough. Low. The kind of tone that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

I force myself to meet his eyes. "You rejected me. You broke us. Whatever my body remembers doesn't change that."

"I know." He takes a breath. "I know I don't deserve forgiveness. But the woman you've become… strong, powerful, terrifying… I look at you and I see everything I threw away."

The confession catches me off guard.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I ask. "That you regret rejecting me now that I'm powerful?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I wanted you then. I want you now. The power doesn't matter."

"Then why…"

"Because I was a coward." The words come out raw. "I chose the easy path. I listened to the Council's threats and I convinced myself that sacrificing you was noble. I was wrong."

I should feel vindicated.

Instead, I just feel tired.

"Your apology doesn't fix anything," I say quietly.

"I know."

"It doesn't give me back the five years I spent learning to survive alone."

"I know."

"It doesn't make me trust you."

"I know." He's looking at me like I'm something precious he lost. It makes my chest ache. "But I had to say it anyway."

The bond flares. His scent is everywhere, overwhelming my carefully maintained control. We're too close. Have been too close this entire conversation.

I need to leave. Now. Before I do something stupid.

Like close the remaining distance between us just to see if his touch would burn or soothe.

I force myself to step back. Then another step. Creating distance that feels physically painful.

"The session resumes soon," I manage.

"Wait." His voice stops me. "Just... tell me one thing. Is there any part of you that doesn't hate me?"

The question is vulnerable. Honest. Devastating.

I could lie. Should lie.

"I don't know," I admit. "I hate what you did. I hate that I still feel this bond. I hate that my body responds to you even though my mind knows better. But you? I don't know if I hate you or if I just wish I could."

His expression cracks. For just a moment, the controlled alpha facade falls away and I see the man underneath. Broken. Guilty. Still wanting something he can never have.

I turn and walk away before he can say anything else. Before the bond can pull me back.

My hands are shaking. My skin feels too hot. And I'm furious—absolutely furious—that after everything, some part of me still responds to him.

Five years of building walls. Five years of becoming someone stronger.

And one conversation nearly undoes it all.