Chapter 3

Kael POV 

I knew she was my mate before the elders did.

Before the bond snapped into place.

Before the Moon Goddess marked it in silver fire beneath our skin.

I knew the night her wolf looked at me like she recognized something I hadn’t said out loud yet.

We were thirteen.

Too young for certainty, they would say.

Too young to claim destiny.

But destiny doesn’t ask your age.

It just waits for the right moment to tighten.

The training grounds were empty that evening. The sun had dipped low, staining the sky orange and violet. I stayed after the others left, practicing forms Beta Roran had drilled into us all week. My muscles burned. Sweat slid down my back.

Pain made things quiet in my head.

And lately, my head had been loud.

Every time Lyra walked into a room, something in me shifted. Every laugh she gave someone else scraped at my ribs. Every boy who stood too close made my hands curl into fists before I could think.

It was ridiculous.

I told myself that constantly.

She wasn’t mine.

Not officially.

Not yet.

But the thought of her being anyone else’s made something ugly rise in my throat.

I finished the last strike and exhaled slowly.

“Your stance is off.”

I turned.

Lyra stood at the edge of the field with her arms folded, chin lifted in challenge. Her braid hung over one shoulder, catching the last light of day.

“It’s not,” I said.

“It is. Your back foot slides when you pivot.”

I almost smiled.

Almost.

“Since when are you an expert?”

“Since I’ve been watching you practice the same move wrong for ten minutes.”

Heat crept up my neck, though I refused to let it show. “Come here then. Fix it.”

She hesitated only a second before stepping onto the field.

The air changed immediately.

It always did when she was close.

She circled me slowly, studying my stance with exaggerated seriousness. “You lean too far forward.”

“So?”

“So if someone stronger counters, you’ll lose balance.”

“I won’t lose.”

Her eyes flicked up to mine. “You’re not invincible.”

The words echoed strangely.

Not yet.

I stepped closer without thinking.

“Show me,” I said quietly.

She swallowed but moved into position anyway, mirroring my stance. Her movements were lighter, quicker. She pivoted, demonstrating how I should shift my weight.

“Like this,” she said.

I watched her feet.

I watched her hips turn.

I watched the way her hair brushed against her collarbone.

And something inside me went still.

“Kael,” she said, frowning slightly. “Are you even paying attention?”

“Yes.”

I reached out and adjusted her back foot gently.

Her breath hitched.

Not fear.

Something else.

The world narrowed to the space between us.

For a heartbeat, everything sharpened — the scent of rain in the air, the sound of distant birds settling in the trees, the rhythm of her pulse.

Then it happened.

It wasn’t dramatic.

There was no flash of light.

Just a pull.

Deep.

Instinctual.

My wolf surged forward beneath my skin with a force that nearly knocked the air from my lungs.

Lyra gasped at the same time.

Her eyes changed first — dark pupils swallowing gold.

My chest tightened.

She felt it too.

We stepped back simultaneously, as if burned.

“What was that?” she whispered.

I knew.

I just wasn’t ready to say it.

Our wolves pressed against the surface, restless, aware.

Claiming.

The air between us hummed.

She shook her head slightly, trying to steady herself. “That’s never happened before.”

No.

It hadn’t.

And it wouldn’t happen with anyone else.

I knew that as surely as I knew how to breathe.

“It’s nothing,” I lied.

Her brows pulled together. “It didn’t feel like nothing.”

I didn’t answer.

Because if I opened my mouth, I might say something reckless.

Mine.

The word hovered at the back of my throat like a confession.

The wind picked up suddenly, carrying her scent toward me stronger than before. My wolf reacted instantly — possessive, alert, aware of every direction.

I stepped sideways subtly, positioning myself between her and the treeline.

She noticed.

“You do that a lot,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Move like I need shielding.”

“You might.”

Her lips parted in protest, but she didn’t argue further.

Instead, she glanced down at her hands.

“They’re shaking,” she murmured.

Mine weren’t.

But inside, everything was.

I had trained for years to control my temper. To control my strength. To be Alpha one day.

No one had trained me for this.

For the sudden, overwhelming certainty that if anyone tried to touch her right now, I would not stop at restraint.

I would destroy them.

The realization didn’t frighten me.

It should have.

Footsteps approached from the path leading to the village. I smelled them before I saw them — two boys from the lower houses.

They slowed when they noticed us standing close together.

Their eyes lingered on her.

My vision sharpened instantly.

Lyra shifted slightly as if to step forward and greet them.

I moved first.

Just enough to block their line of sight.

“Training’s over,” I said evenly.

They exchanged a look.

“We weren’t interrupting.”

“You are now.”

Something in my tone made them hesitate.

Lyra touched my arm lightly. “Kael.”

I didn’t take my eyes off them.

After a tense second, they turned and walked back down the path.

Only when their scent faded did I exhale.

“You can’t glare at everyone who looks at me,” she said quietly.

“I can.”

“That’s not how this works.”

I turned to her then, fully.

“I know how this works.”

“Do you?” Her voice was softer now, not challenging — searching.

The pull between us flared again, stronger this time.

Her wolf surfaced in her eyes once more, watching me like she recognized something ancient.

I took one step closer.

“If it’s what I think it is,” I said carefully, “it doesn’t change anything yet.”

“Yet?” she echoed.

My jaw tightened.

“We’re too young.”

“That didn’t feel young.”

No.

It didn’t.

It felt inevitable.

A distant howl cut through the dusk — long and low.

Our heads turned automatically toward the sound.

The elders.

Calling the pack together.

Lyra’s fingers curled slightly into the fabric of my sleeve before she seemed to realize what she was doing.

She let go immediately.

“We should go,” she said.

“Yes.”

But neither of us moved.

Because we both knew.

Something had shifted tonight.

Something that would not shift back.

When we finally started toward the village, I walked half a step ahead of her.

Not by accident.

Not by habit.

But because my wolf demanded it.

And for the first time in my life, I didn’t fight the demand.

I embraced it.

Mine.

The word settled into my bones.

Not ownership.

Not possession.

Something deeper.

Something binding.

And I knew, with a certainty that both thrilled and unsettled me—

If fate tried to take her from me one day, I would not accept it quietly.

I would fight it.

Even if it meant fighting death itself.