Chapter 2: The Bond Ignites

The Moonlight Gathering blurred around me. My limbs moved, but my mind was still locked in that moment—Kael’s breath against my skin, the hunger in his voice when he said mine. No one else existed. Not really. Not after that.

The rest of the pack danced, laughed, flirted. I walked like I was underwater, every nerve tuned to one thing: him.

I found myself near the old willow at the edge of the grove, the music fading into soft drumbeats behind me. I needed air. Distance. Space to think.

But the second I turned, I walked straight into a wall of heat and scent and muscle.

Kael.

He was just there. Waiting in the shadows, as if he knew I’d run.

“Lyra.” My name in his mouth was a brand. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

“I’m not afraid,” I said, though my voice was breathless. Lying to both of us.

His golden gaze swept over me, slow and reverent. “I didn’t say you were.”

I should’ve turned around.

Instead, I stayed.

He stepped closer. “The bond hit you hard.”

“You think?” I snapped, but it came out too soft, too shaken.

His mouth quirked. “I felt you shake.”

My cheeks burned. “This isn’t normal.”

“No,” he said. “It’s fated.”

And then he reached out—fingers brushing my wrist, slow, deliberate. My skin flared under his touch, heat rolling up my arm like molten lightning. I gasped.

“You’re burning,” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” I lied again.

His thumb traced the silver rune on my wrist, the ceremonial blessing still faintly glowing. “No, you’re glowing.” He looked up. “Your wolf’s awake. She’s looking at me.”

I swallowed hard. “What does she see?”

His eyes darkened, his voice dropping low. “She sees her mate.”

The words split something open inside me.

I should’ve stepped back.

I stepped forward.

He sucked in a breath, his other hand rising to cup the side of my neck. He didn’t pull me in—he didn’t have to. My body was already leaning toward his, traitorous and aching. My breasts brushed his chest again, and I felt the shudder ripple through him.

His forehead pressed to mine.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

I couldn’t. Gods, I didn’t want to.

Instead, I whispered, “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

He answered with the gentlest kiss.

His lips touched mine like they were testing fire. My heart stuttered. My mouth parted before I realized it, and his lips slid deeper—firm, patient, reverent. His other hand slid to the curve of my waist, pulling me against the hard line of his body.

My hands fisted in his shirt. I gasped into him, and he groaned softly—like holding back was painful.

The kiss deepened. Heat exploded between us. My thighs clenched, the ache unbearable now. His tongue tasted mine, slow and hot, and I swore I could feel it everywhere. The world tilted. My knees buckled.

He caught me easily, lifting me like I weighed nothing and pressing me gently against the willow trunk. His hips settled between my thighs. There was fabric between us—but barely.

And his scent—gods, it was everywhere. I breathed him in, desperate, dizzy.

He kissed down my jaw, to the column of my throat. “You’re mine,” he said again, like he needed me to hear it. To accept it.

“You don’t even know me,” I choked out, but my hips shifted, seeking friction. I hated how easily he made me want.

“I know enough,” he growled. “I know how your heart raced when I walked into that clearing. I know how your body responds when I touch you.” He nipped the base of my throat—sharp, possessive, perfect. “And I know your wolf is screaming for me.”

My legs wrapped around his hips before I could stop myself.

He rocked into me, slow and hard, and we both gasped.

The thin fabric of my ceremonial dress was soaked, my core throbbing where it met his heat. He didn’t tear it—not yet—but his hands gripped my thighs, holding me open, rocking us together in devastating rhythm.

“This is madness,” I moaned.

“It’s fate,” he rasped. “And I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

Then his mouth was on mine again—hot, claiming, merciless.

My body bucked. My head fell back against the tree.

And I felt it.

A surge of something ancient and electric between us—deep in my chest, deep in my core.

The bond. Solidifying.

He felt it too. His breath caught. “The moon… she’s sealing us.”

“Already?” I panted. “We haven’t even—”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet my gaze. “No. Not yet. Not fully. Not until you’re marked.”

“Then what was that?”

He kissed the corner of my mouth, down to my collarbone. “A promise.”

I was trembling. Wrecked. Wanting.

He let me slide down from his hold, gently smoothing my dress, though his hands lingered far too long.

“I won’t take you under moonlight, not until you ask me to,” he said, voice low, raw. “But gods, Lyra… when you do? There won’t be a single part of you I won’t worship.”

Then he stepped back, eyes glowing gold, and vanished into the shadows.

And I stood alone beneath the willow, shaking from the promise of everything yet to come.