"The Hunters' table needs to be at least twenty feet from the Silvermoon Pack," I explained, pointing to the seating chart spread across the table. "They had that territory dispute last spring that nearly erupted into violence."

I was acutely aware of Kane standing directly behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. Though the event hall was spacious, he seemed determined to minimize the distance between us at every opportunity.

"And what about the Crescent Valley Alpha?" Kane asked, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned over my shoulder. "He's notorious for flirting with mated females."

I tensed at his proximity but kept my voice steady. "South corner, near the exit. If he becomes problematic, security can escort him out discreetly."

Kane chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. "Clever. You've thought of everything."

His hand brushed mine as he reached to adjust one of the table markers, a touch that lingered just long enough to be deliberate. Three days of working together on the Gala preparations, and each day Kane had found new ways to test my composure.

"The current arrangement balances power dynamics while keeping historically hostile packs separated," I said, stepping sideways to create distance. "It's diplomatic without being obvious."

Kane followed, positioning himself beside me again. "The perfect reflection of its planner," he remarked. His eyes held mine a beat too long. "Diplomatic on the surface, with carefully managed undercurrents."

I broke eye contact first, turning my attention to the wine selection the caterer had brought. "We should finalize the beverage choices today."

Ms. Winters, the caterer, approached with a tray of sample glasses. "I've brought four options for tasting, Luna. Two reds, two whites—all from werewolf-owned vineyards, as requested."

"Thank you," I said, reaching for the first glass.

Kane's fingers brushed mine as he handed me the sample, his eyes never leaving my face as we both sipped. The gesture was oddly intimate, as though we were sharing more than just a wine tasting.

"The notes of blackberry are quite prominent," he observed, voice lower than necessary. "Strong but not overwhelming. Lingers pleasantly."

Ms. Winters glanced between us, clearly sensing the tension. "I'll just... check on the kitchen staff's progress with the menu samples. Back in twenty minutes."

She hurried away before I could object, leaving Kane and me alone in the vast hall.

"You're doing it again," I said quietly.

"Doing what?" he asked, the picture of innocence.

"You know exactly what. The unnecessary touching. The standing too close." I set down my wine glass with a controlled motion. "Our arrangement isn't meant to be conducted in public."

Kane smiled, twirling his glass between his fingers. "Is it the public nature that bothers you, or how much you enjoy it?"

Before I could formulate a suitably cutting response, a sudden, searing pain radiated from the mark on my neck. I gasped, the intensity stealing my breath as the wine glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor.

Kane's expression immediately shifted from teasing to concern. "Aurora?"

Another wave of agony washed through me, and I doubled over, knocking against the table and sending a crystal vase crashing to the ground with a spectacular noise. Footsteps sounded in the hallway—pack members coming to investigate the commotion.

"Clumsy me," Kane called out loudly, moving to block their view of me. "Knocked right into the table. Everything's fine—just some broken glass."

Through the haze of pain, I heard him smoothly dismissing the curious onlookers, his voice carrying the easy authority that came with his status. As soon as they departed, he was at my side, one arm around my waist as he guided me toward a side door.

"Can you walk?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, teeth clenched against another wave of pain. "Private... need somewhere private."

Kane led me swiftly through the service corridors to an empty administrative office, locking the door behind us. The pain intensified, and I clutched at the mark, a strangled sound escaping me.

"It's the mate bond," Kane said, his voice tight. "Raymond and Giana are together right now."

The confirmation only intensified my humiliation. I sank into a chair, trembling as the mark continued to burn. For a moment, Kane just watched me, his expression unreadable.

Then, instead of reaching for me as I expected, he knelt before my chair, taking my hands in his.

"Breathe through it," he instructed, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "Focus on my voice. The pain will crest, then subside."

I stared at him in confusion, the tenderness in his tone at odds with everything I knew about Kane, the notorious playboy who treated relationships as disposable entertainment.

"Why aren't you..." I couldn't finish the question, another wave of pain stealing my words.

"Taking advantage?" Kane finished, his thumbs tracing soothing circles on my palms. "Is that what you think of me?"

"Isn't that our arrangement?" I managed, the words bitter even to my own ears.

Something flickered across his face—hurt, perhaps, or disappointment. "Even I have lines I don't cross, Aurora. I won't use your pain as an opportunity."

He continued holding my hands, talking me through the worst of it, his voice a steady anchor as the mate bond tormented me. When the pain finally became unbearable, I was the one who reached for him, pulling him closer with desperate hands.

"Now," I gasped. "Please, Kane."

This time when he took me in his arms, it felt different—not just the satisfaction of physical need, but something more complex. His touch was careful, almost reverential, each caress designed to replace pain with pleasure.

For the first time, I noticed the small details—how he watched my face to gauge my reactions, the way he whispered my name against my skin, the gentleness underlying his passion. This wasn't the Kane I thought I knew, the careless playboy who collected women like trophies.

When it was over, we straightened our clothes in silence, the air between us charged with unspoken questions.

"Thank you," I said finally, the words inadequate for what had transpired.

Kane adjusted his tie, his expression carefully neutral. "No need for thanks. That's what friends are for, isn't it?"

The casual phrasing struck me. Friends. I wondered if that’s something that we could ever actually be.

He unlocked the door, checking the hallway before turning back to me. "I'll handle the seating chart revisions. You should rest before the budget meeting this afternoon."

I nodded, unexpectedly touched by his consideration. "Kane..." I hesitated, unsure what I wanted to say.

He waited, something vulnerable passing briefly across his features.

"Nothing," I said finally. "Just... thank you. For helping with the Gala."

A shadow of disappointment crossed his face before his usual mask of casual charm slipped back into place. "My pleasure, Luna. In every sense of the word."

As he walked away, I remained in the empty office, trying to make sense of what had happened. Our arrangement was supposed to be simple—physical relief from the pain of the mate bond, nothing more. Yet Kane's unexpected tenderness had awakened something I hadn't anticipated, something that complicated our carefully negotiated boundaries.

I touched my lips, still feeling the echo of his kiss. This was dangerous territory—developing feelings for a man who had made it clear that commitment wasn't in his vocabulary. A man who, by his own admission, was helping me with the Gala partly to scout potential mates for himself.

I couldn't afford another heartbreak. Raymond had taught me that lesson thoroughly.

Yet as I gathered my composure and prepared to return to my duties, I couldn't shake the memory of Kane's gentleness, or the unsettling realization that I was beginning to see him differently—not as Raymond's womanizing friend, but as someone with depths I had never suspected.

And that frightened me more than the pain of the mate bond ever could.