Kalen

I can’t avoid her for long.

I spend a few hours at the lodge, finding food in the kitchen and purging myself in the sweat room, moody and snappy at the younger members of my pack. I feel Liam’s eyes on me, but it’s Cassie who approaches me. She settles herself down on the opposite side of my bench and studies me.

“I’m not in the mood, Cass,” I growl.

“I can see that,” she says. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

I glance over at the younger she-wolf, her calm hazel eyes focused on me. I sigh, my shoulders relaxing. Cassie has a way of seeing past my moods, which makes it difficult to hide anything from her.

She’s the only one who knows the real reason I ended things with Elara.

“Is it the rogue wolf?” she says, her voice quiet. “I heard there was another killing.”

The wolf is a real concern, a threat to my wolves, and it’s where my thoughts should be.

But they’re not.

I straddle the bench so I’m facing Cassie, and I open my mouth, on the brink of telling her, when reality hits me upside the head. I snap my jaw shut.

How can I bring her in on this? If she keeps this secret, she’ll be subject to whatever punishment I am the moment Lyla is discovered.

And Lyla will be discovered. It’s only a matter of time. 

Keep the collateral damage to a minimum.

“It’s nothing,” I growl, standing and pushing away from her. “Stay out of my business.”

Cassie’s eyes follow me as I march out of the lodge, and I know I haven’t fooled her.

I stop by Orion’s hut before going back to mine. I’m almost out of yarrow. I knock at the door but it falls open at my touch. There’s no sign of Orion inside, which suits me fine. I wander to the jars of herbs and help myself to his supply of yarrow.

“Back so soon, young wolf?”

I snap around, a snarl at my lips, and roll my eyes. Only Orion, with his fascination with the mystical arts, can manage to hide himself from me. “You take great pleasure in sneaking up on me, don’t you.”

A smile crinkles his wrinkly face. “Even you only see what you expect to see. I sat out front in wolf form and watched you enter.”

“Keep spending all your time in wolf form, and the day will come when you aren’t able to shift back.”

He bows his head slightly. “I look forward to that day.”

But what will we do without Orion? Who will take his place? I push back the nagging doubt. “I’m out of yarrow.” I brandish the feathery fern-like branches. “I knew you’d have some.”

“You cleaned out my supply just days ago. Are you injured?”

“I—” by the moon’s wrath, he has me. I can’t think of a quick enough lie. “I spilled my supply in the fire. I don’t like not having any stockpiled.”

He gestures at my hand. “Take it. I’ll send the pups out to collect more.”

No further questions.

Not verbally.

But I feel them in his mind. Just like I felt them in Cassie’s and Liam’s. I’m trying to ignore them, to block them out, but my pack is beginning to wonder about me. And as their alpha, their thoughts are pressing harder and harder against mine.

Keeping a secret this big from them might just break me.

“Thank you.” I salute with the yarrow and slip out of his hut without further comment.

Lyla’s not in my cabin when I return, and I feel a moment of panic, a moment of fury at myself for leaving her alone, when I realize she’s in the bushes behind the trees. Of course. Now that she’s awake, her body will be making its own demands.

We’ll have to discuss the best times for her to sneak out.

I shake my head and put a bowl on the table. What am I thinking? Neither of us can live this way.

I’m not thinking.

I hunch over the table, letting my mind empty of its pressing concerns as I grind the herbs into a fine powder. The rhythmic motion of the pestle is a soothing distraction, a way to keep my mind from wandering to dangerous thoughts of Lyla. Of the wolf who attacked her. Of the dangers to both of us that come from harboring her here. Of her warmth pressed against me, the scent of her skin, the way she looked at me with those eyes that seemed to see right through to my soul.

The cabin door opens, flooding the small space with light. I hear the soft pad of her footsteps as she approaches, her movements hesitant. I don't look up, don't acknowledge her. It's easier if I don't. If I keep my focus on the task at hand.

But then her hand is there, reaching for a bowl of herbs, and her fingers brush against mine. I inhale sharply, my eyes snapping up to meet hers.

There's a moment, a charged second where our gazes lock, and I can see it in her eyes. The attraction. The desire. It's mutual, this pull between us, and it's as dangerous as it is exhilarating.

"I'm just trying to help," she says, her voice soft, and I can hear the vulnerability in it. The uncertainty.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "I don't need your help."

Her eyes flash with something, and she pulls back, her lips pressing together. She moves to sit by the fire, her back straight, her shoulders tense. I watch her for a moment, feeling a pang of regret. I don't want to hurt her, but I can't afford to let her get too close.  

But I can't help myself. I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame, even knowing the moment I reach my destination, I’ll die. 

I still want to feel that fleeting heat.

I abandon the bowl and move to join her, sitting beside her on the floor. The fire crackles, the warmth from it seeping into my bones, and I feel the tension in her body. She's angry at me, and I don't blame her.

I don't touch her, but I let my body lean into hers, just enough to feel the heat of her skin. To know she's there, beside me. 

"Lyla—" I start, but she cuts me off, her head turning to look at me.

"I don't need your help either," she says, her voice sharp. But her eyes are soft, and I see the way they flicker to my lips. The way she leans closer, her breath warm against my face. "But I wouldn't mind it."

My heart pounds in my chest, and I want to kiss her. I clench my jaw, my body tensing, and I pull back, away from her. 

"Don't you feel it?" I ask, my voice low, rough. "Don't you feel the draw between us? The need to be close?"

She frowns, her brows knitting together. "I do," she says. "But I thought it was just me."

"It's not just you," I say. "I feel it too. And that's why I have to keep my distance."

“Because you’re the alpha?” Her voice is quiet, but her words are sharp. “Because our kind forbids it? I’m a Blackwood and you’re a Nightshade.” She leans closer, her eyes bright. “But what if this is what we’re meant for? What if we were meant to find each other? What if we’re—fated?”

The word lingers between us, tempting, tantalizing, and oh so wrong.

Luna would not do that to enemies.

“You know that’s not possible,” I say. “Luna wouldn’t do that.”

“And why not?” she says, her challenge in her voice. “Did Luna make us enemies? Does she condone the separation of our packs?”

What she’s hinting at is blasphemy, and even though I toe the line, my skin grates against her insinuations. 

“It’s more than that,” I say, my voice harsh. "Lyla, my bloodline is cursed. It changes the wolf. I can't take that chance. I can't risk giving in to that pull."

She doesn't understand, and I don't expect her to. But I can see the curiosity in her eyes, the way she's studying me, trying to figure me out.

She leans closer. “It makes me want you more,” she says, the huskiness in her tone igniting something in my core.

I reach out, my hand brushing a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. I see the way her eyes darken, the way her lips part, and I want to kiss her. I want to feel her lips on mine, to taste her, to lose myself in her.

“You are trouble, aren’t you?” I growl.

A hint of a smile presses against her mouth. “So I’ve been told.”

Fates be damned, I want this woman. Almost enough to risk it.

And that’s why I can’t.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice raw. "I wish things were different."

I can't protect her from the curse. I can't keep her safe if I let myself love her.

But I can't stop myself from wanting to try.

***