Chapter 5

~ RONAN ~

I don’t usually do this.

Hell, I don’t even like people. Not since my stepmother taught me how cruelty can wear silk, and my step sisters showed me how manipulation can come with sweet voices and fake tears.

But there’s something about her.

Trembling fingers. The scent of antiseptic and medicine clinging to her like a second skin.

So I say yes.

Not because I want to sleep with her.

I don’t sleep with strangers.

But because she looks like she won’t make it through the night unless someone does.

And when I take her to my hotel-room…

She comes apart like glass in my hands.

One finger, then two. She’s all heat and need, lips parted around a sob she refuses to let out. I don’t kiss her. I don’t ask. I just give her the release she’s clawing toward like salvation.

And when she shatters—writhing, gasping, clenching around me like I’m the only anchor she has left, head lolled back, hair stuck to sweat-damp skin—she looks like a goddamn angel ruined by war.

I should pull away.

Let her drift into sleep and leave before I get too close.

But then—I made a mistake.

I bring my fingers to my mouth and sniff.

The moment her sweet scent hits me, something feral inside me snaps. A burn rips through my spine, my vision darkens, and everything about her screams one word:

Mate.

I don’t mean to say it aloud.

But the growl tears from my chest before I can stop it.

“Mate.”

She blinks up at me.

~ ALINA ~

I blink through the daze.

My limbs still tremble, my thighs slick, pulsing, muscles weak from the kind of climax I thought I’d forgotten how to feel.

Years.

It’s been years since he last touched me. Years since I've climaxed like this. My fingers were never enough.

And yet… him.

His hands, his voice, the way he didn’t ask, he just… gave.

But then he says it.

Mate.

That word doesn’t come from him. Not really. Voice low and primal and instead of it coming off like a salvation, it was like a death sentence.

And every nerve in my body shrieks one command against my mind.

Run.

I don’t hesitate.

I roll off the bed, my bare skin slamming into the cold floor with a thud that sends a jolt of pain through my side. I wince and bite it back. I've been through worse.

My coat… where is it?

I snatch it up off the chair, fingers fumbling, yanking it over my half-naked body. He’s calling my name—I think—but I don’t stop to hear it. Can’t. Won’t.

I slam the door open and run.

Out of the room.

Out of the damn bar.

The night air hits my face and I inhale a shuddering breath. I scan the lot and spot the car right where I left it, engine still humming, headlights on.

I didn’t even switch it off.

I don't think as I hurry to it and dive into the driver’s seat, my fingers shaking as I slam the door shut. Lock it. Breathe. No—don’t breathe. His scent is still in my lungs.

Mate.

I can't even feel the bond.

It isn’t until I’m on the road, miles of tarred road blurring beneath my tires that I realize what I’ve done.

What I’ve really done.

Asher's voice echoes in my ear.

Mating with your true mate will heal you.

But this… this doesn’t feel like healing.

This feels like panic. Like drowning in air.

Because instead of leaning in, instead of listening to fate, I ran.

I ran.

My chest tightens, my hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles ache. The cold from the outside seeps into the car, but it can’t chill the wildfire of regret burning behind my ribs.

I should’ve stayed.

I should’ve waited.

But how was I supposed to know? How was I supposed to trust a bond I couldn’t even feel?

Is it broken?

Am I broken?

I want to turn back.

I do.

But I don’t even know what I’d say if I did. “Sorry I fled after you growled ‘mate’. I can't feel the bond.” That’ll go over great.

And then there's the festival. The Luna festival.

I can't miss it seven times.

I have to be there.

It's a must.

So I do the only thing I can.

I drive toward the packhouse, silent tears clinging to the corners of my eyes, whispering a prayer I’m not sure anyone’s listening to.

If he’s truly mine…

If that man is really my mate…

Then please, let him find me again.

But even as I say it, even as I try to believe it, there’s a shiver beneath my skin that won’t let me rest.

Because deep down, under all the fear and confusion…

I’m scared.

Terrified.

Of him.

Of the bond.

Of Asher.

Of what it might mean to finally let someone all the way in. Again.

Because if I let him touch the broken pieces…

He might see too much.

And leave anyway.