ADAM
I felt her before I ever stepped into the room. Before she herself crossed into the quarters.
The bond—if that was what this was—tightened like a living thing beneath my skin, undeniable. It had been there even when she was gone, faint but persistent, like a distant echo I could never fully silence.
Now, standing here, it was overwhelming.
I faced the wall, my back to the room, my palms braced against stone I barely registered. I had co here with purpose—had told myself I needed answers, needed to confront her privately, needed to look into her eyes and demand the truth.
I wished I hadn’t co. Especially when she entered the space, especially when her voice reached .
Because if I turned around, I wasn’t sure I would stop myself.
Her scent filled the room, saturated the air, crawled into my lungs and settled there like a claim. My wolf surged violently, recognition slamming into instinct, into hunger, into sothing old and irrevocable.
Mine.
The thought wasn’t conscious. It didn’t co from my mind. It ca from my blood.
My mouth watered. My hands flexed uselessly at my sides. Every part of wanted to cross the space between us, to pull her close, to bury my face in her neck and breathe her in until nothing else existed. To claim. To hold. To touch.
What the hell was happening?
What was this bond?
When had it snapped into place—had it always been there, waiting?
My wolf stirred, smug. I told you so.
The words echoed through , thick with certainty. She is Maya.
I shook my head slightly, as if I could dislodge the thought. It was impossible. Maya was gone. Lost to ti and blood and things I refused to rember too closely.
And yet—
I rembered marking her.
The mory rose unbidden, vivid. The press of skin. The sacred pain. The way fate had snapped tight around my ribs the mont my teeth broke her skin.
I rembered, too, seeing sothing once. A glimpse. A shadow of a mark on Dora’s neck, years ago, half-hidden. I had told myself it was a coincidence. Imagination.
Now curiosity and sothing far more reckless seized . I turned. Fast.
For a split second, I caught her surprise flickering across her face before she smoothed it away. My gaze dropped instantly, greedily, to her bare shoulders, her exposed throat.
But there was nothing there on her neck. No mark. No scar. No visible proof.
But her scent...
It hit harder now, close and intoxicating, a maddening mix of familiarity and danger. My control frayed at the edges.
Control yourself, I snarled inwardly as I forced myself to straighten, forced my hands to unclench, forced my voice to steady.
"Adam..." She said finally. "Leave. I need my space."
"I need to talk to you," I said, too quickly. "Co in. Shut the door."
The words left before I could reconsider them, before I could weigh how they sounded. I hoped—absurdly—that I didn’t co off as cornering her. As predatory. As unhinged.
She didn’t answer right away. She studied instead.
I felt her gaze like a physical touch, mapping my face, my posture, my intent. Sothing flashed in her eyes—sothing I understood instantly, because it mirrored what burned in my own chest.
Want.
My breath hitched despite every effort to keep it steady.
Was she feeling this too?
Did she know?
The terrifying thought followed close behind.
Did she already know we were mates?
There was sothing off about her, too. I couldn’t place it at first, but the longer I looked, the more it clawed at . Her eyes, too all knowing. Her hair, her aura, the way magic clung to her like a second skin.
It felt wrong. Altered. As though sothing foreign had been woven into her being.
My wolf growled low, agitated.
I wanted to tear whatever it was out of her. But I said nothing.
She exhaled slowly, as if steadying herself, then reached back and shut the door.
Without a word to , she crossed the space between us and sat on the bed. The movent was unhurried, almost languid, as though she were in complete control of the shift in power.
Then she patted the space beside her.
I stared.
The sudden change in pace threw completely off balance. Why did she want close?
What ga was she playing?
But my body had already decided.
I moved before my mind could object and sat beside her, leaving a careful inch of space between us. I didn’t look at her. I focused on the wall opposite us, on the sound of my own breathing, which had betrayed by quickening anyway.
"Look at ," she said.
My breath hitched again. I turned despite myself.
She lifted a hand and placed it against my jaw.
The contact was electric.
Her fingers were warm and undoing all at once as she tilted my face toward hers. The world narrowed violently to the space between us.
She took my breath away. There was no other way to describe it.
My eyes dropped to her lips, full and parted, and I felt my control slipping fast. "What are you doing?" I asked, my voice rough. "Why... why now?"
She didn’t answer the question.
"There’s no ti," she said instead.
And then she kissed .
The contact was soft only for a heartbeat—long enough to shock , to register warmth—before sothing roared to life inside my chest. I groaned quietly, instinct taking over as I kissed her back, hunger eclipsing doubt.
Her hand slid into my hair as mine found her waist.
Everything narrowed to sensation, to need, to the terrible, exquisite certainty that this was right even as it felt forbidden. My wolf surged, howling approval, recognition blazing so bright it hurt.
Mate.
I pulled back just enough to breathe monts later, forehead resting against hers, my hands trembling where they held her. "If we do this," I said hoarsely, "it changes everything."
Her eyes were dark, unafraid. "It already has."
And then there was no more room for words.
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