DOMINIC
The moment we stepped back into the room, Lena hesitated. Her body was rigid, like she was on the verge of bolting again, even though we both knew how that would end. She had to know by now—there was no place she could run where I wouldn't find her. But I didn't want her like this. I didn't want her cornered, afraid, or second-guessing every step.
I wanted her to want to stay.
"You're still fighting it," I murmured, watching the way her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, gripping it like it was the only thing anchoring her.
She scoffed, but there was no real fire behind it. "Of course, I'm fighting it. You expect me to just accept that my entire life has changed overnight?"
"No," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean it hasn't changed."
She swallowed hard, her throat working as she turned away, hugging her arms around herself. "This bond…" She trailed off, shaking her head as if she couldn't bring herself to finish the thought.
I exhaled slowly, stepping closer. She didn't move away. "You want to know more."
Lena let out a humorless laugh. "Want? No. Need? Probably." She glanced at me, eyes wary. "So tell me."
I ran a hand through my hair, considering where to start. "The mate bond isn't just about attraction, Lena. It's not about being forced into something you don't want. It's… deeper. Stronger. It was given to us by the Moon Goddess herself—a connection meant to be unbreakable, meant to bring balance. When a bond forms, it's not by accident. It's fate."
Her lips parted slightly, her eyes searching mine for some kind of deception. "Fate," she repeated, voice hollow. "So I don't get a say?"
"You always have a say," I said, voice low. "But that won't change what we are."
She looked away, her fingers twitching at her sides. "And if I ignore it? If I pretend it's not there?"
I clenched my jaw. The thought of her rejecting it, rejecting me, settled like a lead weight in my chest. "You can try." My voice was rough, raw. "But it won't go away. And you'll feel it every time you fight it. Every time you pull away."
Her fingers flexed again, like she was testing the theory even now, seeing if she could take a step back. She didn't. "What happens if I don't fight it?"
My chest tightened. "Then you'll feel what I feel. You'll know what it's like to belong to someone completely."
Lena's breath hitched. She shook her head, like she was trying to clear it. "That sounds… dangerous."
I gave her a wry smile. "Only if you let it be."
She let out a slow breath, looking up at me with something unreadable in her eyes. "You said the bond is a gift. From the Moon Goddess?"
I nodded. "It's sacred. It's rare. The Moon Goddess chooses mates carefully—pairs that complement each other, balance each other. It's not just about love or attraction. It's about strength, survival. We are stronger together than we could ever be apart."
Lena's brows furrowed as she absorbed my words. "And you believe that?"
"I know it." My voice was firm, unwavering. "I feel it every time I look at you. Every time you're near. Even when you're running from me."
She swallowed, clearly battling with something inside her. Then, after a long pause, she asked, "What about… the wolf part? How does that work?"
I tilted my head. "You mean shifting?"
She nodded, hesitating before clarifying, "Yeah. What does it feel like?"
A slow smile tugged at my lips. "It's freedom. Strength. Clarity. When I shift, I feel everything—every scent, every sound. My instincts are sharper. I see the world differently."
She seemed fascinated despite herself. "Does it hurt?"
"The first time," I admitted. "But after that, it's natural. Like breathing."
Lena bit her lip again, and I caught the way her fingers flexed, like she wanted to reach out but didn't trust herself to. "And your wolf… it's still you?"
I nodded. "Yes. But also more. My instincts are heightened. My emotions are rawer. The wolf is always there, even when I'm like this. It's a part of me, just like the bond is a part of you now."
She shivered at that, hugging her arms around herself again. But she didn't pull away when I stepped closer, didn't tense when I brushed my fingers over her arm. A small, quiet surrender.
Silence stretched between us, thick and charged. Her pulse thrummed at her throat, the scent of her uncertainty mixing with something else—something hesitant, something fragile. I could feel it, the way the bond tugged at her, whispering to her instincts even as her mind screamed at her to resist. She was reaching for it without realizing it, drawn to the connection, to me.
I didn't push. I let her war with herself. And when she finally sighed, exhaustion winning over resistance, I gestured toward the bed.
"Get some sleep," I said. "You need it."
She hesitated, eyeing the bed like it was a trap. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she padded over, slipping under the covers without another word. I didn't let myself react to the sight of her there, curled on her side, my shirt hanging loosely around her frame. I didn't dwell on the way the bond hummed between us, pulling me toward her.
I moved to the other side of the bed, settling in. The mattress dipped beneath my weight, and I could feel her tense beside me. Every inch of my body was hyper-aware of hers. Her breathing was measured, forced, like she was trying too hard to appear unaffected.
Minutes passed. Maybe an hour.
Then she shifted. Just barely. The smallest movement, like she was testing herself. Testing me. Her back pressed against my arm, tentative, uncertain. A fraction of an inch. Then another.
I held still, barely breathing.
Another inch, and then she was curled against my side, her body drawn to my warmth despite everything she told herself she didn't want. My hand twitched at my side, aching to touch, to pull, to hold. But I let her come to me.
The bond flared between us, pulsing like a heartbeat, alive and undeniable. It called to her, and this time, she wasn't entirely pulling away. I could hear the way her breath hitched, the way she exhaled shakily as if surrendering to something she didn't understand.
Her fingers brushed against my arm. Just barely. But it was there.
Her breath ghosted across my skin, the steady rise and fall of her chest becoming in sync with mine.
I turned my head slightly, murmuring low enough that it was barely a whisper. "Sleep, Lena."
She didn't answer. But she didn't move away either.
That was enough.
For now.