The moon was blood red.
Kaine stood behind the manor, leaning on the edge of the woods, naked and panting, his chest covered in dirt and blood—his, theirs whose lives he destroyed during his recent rampage. His wolf had almost broken free. Again.
But even with his skin still hot from the half-shift, his claws would not retreat. His eyes burned gold and feral, set on one thought plaguing him, night after night.
Her.
Aria.
Laughing at another man. Tasting him. Kissing him.
His Aria.
It hadn't mattered that he'd pushed her away. That he'd placed distance between them because he was certain it would preserve them both. That he was certain she'd be protected from the destruction of his taint blood.
All of this didn't matter now.
Because witnessing her with Darian had awakened something old. Primeval. Abused.
She wasn't safe from him anymore.
And no one who reached out to her was, either.
---
Within Aria's Cottage – Near Midnight
Aria lay in bed, sheets knotted around her legs, her body slick with sweat. The dreams were getting worse.
Or maybe they weren't dreams anymore.
Maybe it was him.
She could feel him—Kaine's presence—trailing down her skin like phantom fingers. Heat flared in her belly, low and aching. It wasn't magic.
It was the bond.
The blasted bond that refused to break.
She'd tried everything to sever it. Hexes. Blood sacrifices. Even forbidden shadow rituals from the Old Grimoire.
It still lingered.
Now?
It was burning.
Her nipples puckered beneath her silk nightgown as the spirit pressure grew stronger. She shivered, her body arching involuntarily, her thighs clenching together as an invisible hand stroked up her leg, teasing, daring.
Her eyes shot open.
And he was there.
Standing at her bedside.
Real. Solid. Silent.
"Kaine—"
"You summoned me in," he said to her, his tone battered and gruff, as rough as whiskey-scarred gravel and starvation.
Her breathing hitched. "I did not—"
"You dreamed of me," he interrupted, rising up the bed slowly, each movement tracked and feral. "And I came.".
Aria's own heart pounding as he towered above her, the shadows of the moonlight illuminating his honed body in silver and black. His scent hit her—cedar, smoke, and something else. Something darker. More possessive.
"I told you to stay away from him," she shuddered.
"You kissed him," he growled, fingers on either side of her head. "You let him have his hands on you."
"You rejected me."
"I was protecting you!"
She shoved him, hard. He moved barely at all. "You don't get to play martyr, Kaine. You made your choice. So did I."
Something flashed in his eyes—hurt. Anger. Lust.
All at once.
And then he kissed her.
No warning. No tenderness. Fire.
His mouth crashed against hers like a storm, and she met it with the same—the same biting, clawing, desperation. The kiss was war, and neither was going to back down.
She moaned against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like a man who'd gone without water for years.
But as abruptly as it began, she tore away, gasping. "Stop," she breathed. "You're not here because of love. You're here because you can't stand the idea of someone else being with me."
He glared at her, his jaw clenched so hard it quivered.
"You're right," he said. "I can't."
He clutched her throat—not to kill her, but to hold her motionless, to force her to gaze at him.
"I tried to be noble," he sneered. "I tried to leave you alone, to allow you to live free of the stain of my curse. But now? Now I want to take you so deep your soul screams out my name for all eternity."
Her breath hitched. "That's not love."
No," he breathed, voice dropping low, intimate. "It's something worse."
She did not blink. "Then don't touch me unless you're prepared to burn with me."
The air snapped between them, charged and crackling with power. Kaine's pupils grew wide. The wolf in him howled.
"You already lit the match, Aria."
And with that, he disappeared—fading into the night like smoke.
But not before she could feel the aftershock of him, burning and throbbing between her legs.
---
The Next Morning – Crimson Hollow Council Hall
Darian leaned against one of the council columns, arms folded, eyeing Kaine across the room.
"You look like shit," he said dryly.
Kaine didn't respond.
"I'm guessing that has something to do with last night," Darian added. "And the fact that Aria had claw marks on her door this morning."
Kaine's fists clenched. "She's mine."
"She's not a thing," Darian told him, shoving off the pillar. "You had your chance. You gave her up."
"I marked her," Kaine snarled, voice low enough that wolves around them winced.
"You rejected her," Darian snapped. "You can't have it both ways."
Kaine's eyes flared gold.
"I don't care what the rules are. I'll kill any man who touches her."
Darian stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head.
"You're falling apart, Kaine. And the further down you go, the more you'll drag her with you."
Kaine pushed in, nose to nose. "Then keep away from her."
Darian stood firm. "What if she doesn't want me to?"
Kaine's snarl was animal-like. Bones cracked as his wolf fought to surge beneath his skin.
And for the first time, Darian looked almost… frightened.
---
Elsewhere – Aria's Cottage
Aria sat in front of her mirror, brushing her hair slowly. Her fingers were shaking. Her lips were swollen.
And her heart was at war.
She could feel the mark of Kaine coming back to life. The burn on the nape of her neck—the mark of their soul-bond—glowed softly, pulsing in rhythm with her heart.
She should've pushed him away.
She should've screamed.
But she wanted it.
And that scared her more than anything.
Because what if he didn't stop next time?
What if she didn't want him to?
She glared at her reflection in the mirror, and it was like staring into the void.
He was unraveling.
And so was she.