Chapter 3: The Alpha’s Claim
The forest was quieter after he left, and Louve hated it. She hated the silence because it let his voice linger. She hated the cold because it felt like the absence of his warmth. And she hated herself most of all because her body still hummed where his fingers had brushed her cheek—light as a whisper, heavy as fate.
She stood there too long, staring at the darkness where Kael had vanished, until the night bled deeper and the moon dipped lower. Her dagger was still in her hand, though her grip was limp, like the fight had been stripped from her. Maybe it had. Maybe that was what he wanted.
You belong to me.
The words crawled under her skin, sank into her marrow, and coiled tight around her lungs. They burned worse than any wound, worse than any exile scar.
“No,” she whispered into the void, her breath trembling like frost on glass. “No, I don’t.”
But the bond disagreed. She could feel it now—an invisible tether pulling at her, tugging from the direction Kael had gone. It was faint, but it pulsed in rhythm with her heart, a cruel echo she couldn’t silence. She pressed a hand to her chest as if she could tear it out. Her claws scraped skin instead.
Not real claws—she’d never Shifted, never felt the wolf take her bones—but sometimes the edge of her nails bit deep when anger clawed through her veins. She welcomed the sting now. It kept her anchored. It reminded her she was still Louve, the exile, the survivor—not some bond-struck fool destined for a life on her knees.
She sheathed her dagger and started walking. Away from him. Away from the pull. Each step was an act of defiance, even as her body fought her mind, urging her to turn back. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. If she surrendered to that voice inside—the one whispering his name like a prayer—it would be the end of everything.
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The forest thinned by dawn, breaking into a clearing where a black river curled like a serpent through frost-slick stones. Louve collapsed near the water’s edge, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. Her cloak hung damp and heavy, but she couldn’t care. Hunger gnawed like a beast in her belly, hollowing her out, and thirst scraped her throat raw.
She scooped water in shaking hands and drank until her stomach cramped. The icy bite of it grounded her for a moment, though it did nothing to fill the aching hollow inside.
That was when she felt it again.
The bond.
Stronger now.
Closer.
Her pulse spiked as the wind shifted, bringing with it a scent she couldn’t mistake—smoke and earth and something savage threaded with steel. Her heart slammed hard against her ribs. No. No, not here. Not again.
Louve surged to her feet, scanning the tree line, but the forest stared back in silence. Still, every instinct screamed he was near. Watching. Waiting.
“Running already?”
The voice came from behind this time, and gods—how did a sound feel like silk and chains at once? She spun, heart clawing up her throat.
Kael stood less than ten paces away, shadows clinging to him like an oath. His silver eyes burned even brighter in the weak dawn light, and his expression—calm, unreadable—was somehow worse than fury. He didn’t look like a man who’d tracked her through the night. He looked like a man who owned the ground she stood on.
She hated that her breath hitched when their gazes locked. Hated that the tether inside her sang like struck steel.
“Leave me alone,” she snarled, though the sound cracked halfway through.
Kael didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just looked at her with that infuriating stillness, like a predator savoring the space between heartbeats. Then, slowly, he stepped forward.
Louve stumbled back, boots skidding on damp stone. “Don’t,” she rasped. “I swear I’ll—”
“What?” His voice was soft now, coaxing and cruel. “You’ll fight me?” He closed the distance in two strides, and suddenly he was there—towering, unyielding, the heat of his body swallowing the cold. She tilted her chin up because she refused to bow, even as her knees screamed to.
“Try it,” he murmured, so close she could feel his breath ghost her lips. “Cut me. Spill my blood. Do you think it’ll change what you are to me?”
Her throat locked. Words tangled in her chest like thorns, sharp and useless. She hated that he could do this—break her without breaking her.
“I don’t belong to you,” she managed, but her voice… gods, it wasn’t steel. It was splintered wood.
Kael’s smile was slow, dark, and so utterly sure. “Keep telling yourself that, little wolf.”
And then his hand moved—lightning-fast, fingers curling around her wrist. She tried to wrench free, but his grip was iron, pinning her without effort. Heat flared where his skin touched hers, searing through her veins like molten silver. The bond roared, wild and hungry, and Louve bit back a gasp as her knees buckled.
“Feel that?” His voice was a velvet snarl against her ear. “That’s not weakness. That’s fate.”
She wanted to scream. To claw his eyes out. To do anything but what her body did instead—shudder against him like a moth drawn to the flame that would kill it.
Kael’s hand eased, sliding from her wrist to her jaw with slow, devastating precision. His thumb brushed her cheek, and gods help her, her breath broke on the touch. “You can fight me all you want,” he murmured, silver eyes burning through her soul. “But you’ll never fight this.”
He didn’t kiss her. That would’ve been mercy. Instead, he let go—stepping back so suddenly the cold rushed in like a blade. Louve swayed, clawing for breath as the world tilted.
Kael watched her with a darkness that wasn’t anger but something far more dangerous—patience sharpened to a weapon. “Go on,” he said softly. “Run. I like the chase.”
And then he was gone again—melting into shadow as if the forest had swallowed him whole.
Louve stood trembling, the phantom of his touch branding her skin, the bond screaming like wildfire in her blood. She sank to her knees, fists pounding the frozen earth, and for the first time since exile carved her bones, she broke.
Not in tears. Not in sobs. But in a soundless scream that shattered only inside, where no one could see—except maybe the gods who hated her enough to do this.