The night had turned colder, but Lyra's skin was still burning.
She couldn't forget the press of Darius's lips on her neck, the velvet of his voice, the way he walked away like he'd won something. And the worst part?
Part of her had wanted to follow him.
Part of her still did.
But she didn't move. She stayed in the woods for what felt like an hour, letting her heartbeat slow and her body settle.
It was the snap of a branch behind her that warned her she was no longer alone.
But she didn't flinch.
She already knew who it was.
Kael.
She didn't turn.
"You followed me," she said.
He didn't answer. His presence pulsed behind her like lightning, sharp and barely restrained.
"Didn't like what you saw?" she asked, still not facing him.
He growled—low, dangerous.
"I saw you let him touch you," Kael said. His voice wasn't calm. It was shredded silk. "I saw him put his mouth on your throat like he had a right to it."
"He didn't touch anything I didn't allow," she said evenly.
"And that's supposed to make it better?"
Now she turned.
Kael stood just feet away, fists clenched, his eyes glowing. His jaw was tight, breath ragged. His shirt was gone—probably ripped during training—and his body was bare to the waist, muscles taut, like his control was hanging by a single thread.
Lyra's heart kicked hard. "You're angry."
"I'm furious."
She took a step closer. "Why?"
"You know why."
"Say it."
Kael snarled, stepped forward—and suddenly they were inches apart, chest to chest, breath to breath.
"Because you're mine," he said, voice barely more than a snarl. "And you're toying with me."
Lyra raised her chin. "I'm not yours. Not yet."
That did it.
Kael grabbed her—not rough, but not gentle. His hands clamped around her hips, dragging her against him. She gasped, but didn't resist.
She didn't want to.
His body was pure heat. His scent—cedar, smoke, and fire—wrapped around her like a brand.
"Tell me to stop," he growled, nose brushing hers. "And I will. Just say the word, Lyra."
But she didn't.
She lifted her hands slowly, placing them on his bare chest, feeling the tension ripple through him like a live wire.
"I don't want you to stop," she whispered.
The sound he made was primal.
His mouth crashed down onto hers—not gentle, not sweet—a kiss that stole her breath and fed the fire building inside her since the day she'd come back.
Lyra gasped against him, fingers digging into his shoulders. Kael pressed her against a tree, one leg sliding between hers, grinding heat against her core with delicious pressure.
He kissed like a man starved—biting her bottom lip, dragging his teeth down her jaw, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses on her throat.
"This—" he growled against her skin, "—is what you do to me."
His hand slid beneath her thigh, lifting it around his waist. Her dress bunched up, and she let it, too drunk on the feel of him to care.
She moaned as he rocked his hips into hers, slow but hard, the friction perfect.
His mouth found her ear. "Do you feel that, little wolf?"
She whimpered. "Yes."
"That's what happens when you make an Alpha wait."
He slid his hand beneath her dress now, fingers grazing over her inner thigh, moving higher. Almost. But he stopped—hovered.
And smiled darkly.
"You're wet," he whispered. "For me. Not him."
She bit her lip, nearly trembling. "I hate you."
"No," he growled. "You hate that you can't resist me."
His fingers traced her soaked lace—over it, never inside. She writhed, grinding down against his palm, desperate for more.
But Kael didn't give in.
Instead, he backed off, just enough to pull her leg from his hip. He stepped back slowly, panting, eyes wild.
Lyra looked wrecked.
Dress ruined. Lips swollen. Legs shaky. Chest heaving.
And Kael?
He looked just as ruined. But he walked away.
She blinked, stunned. "You're leaving?"
He turned halfway, eyes burning. "Because if I touch you again right now, I won't stop. And you're not ready for what I'll do to you when I do."
Then he was gone, vanishing into the woods like a storm breaking loose.
Lyra collapsed back against the tree, breathless, throbbing, aching.
And very, very not done.
---
Back at the estate, Selene watched Lyra return with ruined lipstick and a torn hem.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
She could guess what happened.
And it made her see red.
It was time to escalate. No more smiles. No more playing nice.
Selene would strike soon. And this time, it would be bloody.