Outside, the snowstorm had died down to a sharp, howling wind that blew thin sheets of ice across the mountain pass.
And inside, the fire had burned out hours ago, leaving behind cold white ash and a silence so heavy it felt physically difficult to breathe.
Soren was already awake.
But truthfully, he hadn’t even slept for a single second.
He had just lay curled on his side on the cold stone floor, his back turned strictly toward the center of the cave.
His knees were tucked up to his chest, his cloak wrapped tightly around his thin shoulders.
His body was stiff from the freezing cold, but his skin still felt as if it were burning wherever Kaelen’s hands had touched him the night before.
Behind him, he heard the soft rustle of leather and heavy wool.
Kaelen was moving.
Soren’s pulse spiked instantly, hammering against his ribs.
He stayed frozen, keeping his eyes shut, trying to regulate his breathing so he would appear fast asleep.
But the magic chain linking their wrists twitched, transmitting the slight tremor in Soren’s hand straight across the air to the Alpha.
A low, quiet sigh came from Kaelen.
“I know you’re awake, Soren,” Kaelen’s voice was rough and raspy from sleep, completely lacking its usual confident edge and still it awakened something deep inside Soren’s core although he quickly waved it off.
Soren didn’t open his eyes.
“Leave me alone.”
“The fire is dead, and the wind has turned,” Kaelen said softly, his tone carefully neutral, hyper-respectful, and stripped of all dominant authority.
He was stepping on eggshells, giving Soren as much space as the chain would physically allow.
“If we stay here, the cold will freeze our limbs before noon.
We need to move toward the upper ridge.”
Slowly, Soren sat up.
He refused to look at Kaelen’s face and kept his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, pulling his leather boots on and tying the laces with trembling, stiff fingers .
Meanwhile in his peripheral vision, Soren could see him sitting a few feet away, strapping his heavy iron breastplate back over his tunic.
The faint, reddish shadow of a palm print was still visible along Kaelen’s sharp right cheekbone.
A sharp pang of guilt sliced through Soren’s chest.
His fingers paused on his bootlaces.
I slapped him, Soren thought, his jaw clenching as a wave of bitter regret washed over him.
He apologized, he backed away, and I struck an Alpha of the High Citadel like he was a dog.
Oh God!
And at that moment a part of Soren wanted to turn around, reach out, and touch Kaelen’s jaw to ask if it still hurt, to tell him he was sorry for hurting him.
But the moment his eyes drifted toward Kaelen’s broad chest, the memory of Kaelen’s hand slipping under his shirt onto his bare waist flooded his mind.
He remembered the heat, the overwhelming taste of Kaelen’s mouth, and the terrifying realization of how easily he had melted into the Alpha’s arms.
No, Soren reminded himself, forcing his heart to turn to ice.
If you give him an inch, you lose yourself completely.
Keep the wall up.
“I am ready,” Soren said, standing up abruptly.
His voice was cold, flat, and completely devoid of warmth.
Kaelen looked up.
He opened his mouth as if to say something—to explain, to apologize again, or perhaps to ask why Soren was looking at him like a stranger—but he stopped himself.
Kaelen simply stood up, strapped his broadsword to his belt, and inclined his head in a quiet, solemn nod.
“Then we walk,” Kaelen replied quietly.
The trail leading up to Frost-Pike Pass was nothing more than a narrow, treacherous ledge carved into the face of a sheer mountain cliff.
To their left stood a wall of dark, jagged granite covered in slick blue ice.
To their right was a drop of three thousand feet into a foggy, white abyss.
The wind howled through the narrow canyon, biting through their cloaks and kicking up swirls of blinding snow.
Because the path was so narrow, they couldn’t walk side by side.
They had to walk in single file, with Kaelen leading the way to break the wind and test the footing, and Soren following right behind his heels.
The three-foot rose-colored chain hung between them, swinging lightly in the freezing gale.
Every step was a silent agony.
Because of the bond, Soren didn’t just see Kaelen—he felt him.
Through the chain, Soren could feel the steady, radiating warmth of Kaelen’s body fighting against the mountain chill.
He could feel the low, tense hum of Kaelen’s wolf, coiled tight and anxious, constantly checking backward to ensure Soren hadn’t slipped on the ice.
Whenever the path narrowed to a dangerous point, Kaelen would reach back without turning around, extending his gloved hand.
“Step where I step,” Kaelen called back over the roar of the wind.
“The ice is thin on the outer edge.”
Soren ignored the offered hand whenever he could, placing his boots in Kaelen’s heavy footprints in the snow.
But when a sudden gust of wind nearly blew Soren off his feet, Kaelen’s hand shot back and grabbed Soren’s wrist with absolute, iron-tight precision.
The touch sent a sudden, electric jolt straight through Soren’s arm, searing straight into his chest.
Soren gasped softly, his head snapping up to look at the back of Kaelen’s dark hair.
Kaelen didn’t drag him forward nor did he tighten his grip unnecessarily.
He just simply held Soren steady until Soren regained his balance, and then he let go instantly—as if he were afraid that holding on for a second too long would cause Soren to retreat again.
The careful, painful respect was almost harder to bear for Soren than Kaelen’s dominance had been.
*Why aren’t you fighting back?
*Soren thought bitterly, staring at Kaelen’s broad back as they walked through the deep snow.
*Why are you acting like the monster here when I’m the one who hit you?
Just yell at me.
Command me.
Stop looking at me like you broke something precious.*
They walked for two hours in heavy, suffocating silence, the physical distance between them artificial and strained despite being chained together.
“Kaelen,” Soren finally rasped out, his voice barely cutting through the howling wind.
Kaelen stopped immediately, turning his head slightly.
“Are you tired?
We can rest behind the next rock jut.” Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“No,” Soren said, clutching his cloak tighter around himself.
“I don’t need a rest.
I need you to stop doing that.”
Kaelen turned fully, his golden eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.
“Doing what?”
“Treating me like I’m made of glass!” Soren snapped, his built-up frustration finally boiling over in the freezing air.
“You haven’t looked at me directly since we left the cave.
You touch the chain like it’s poison.
If you hate me for what happened last night, just say it!”
Kaelen froze.
A dark, dangerous shadow crossed his face, his jaw tightening so hard the muscles jumped.
“Hate you?” Kaelen’s voice dropped into a low, terrifying growl that resonated through the snow.
He took a single step closer to Soren, closing the gap between them until their chests were inches apart.
“You think I hate you?”
Soren held his ground, though his heart hammered wildly against his ribs at the sudden proximity.
“You’re acting like it.”
“I am trying to keep my distance because I terrified you last night!” Kaelen snarled, his golden eyes burning with a sudden, fierce intensity that made Soren’s breath catch in his throat.
“I lost control of my wolf.
I put my hands on you when you told me to stop, and I forced you to strike me just to get me off you!
I am trying to give you space, Soren, because the thought of you looking at me with fear in your eyes makes my soul feel like it’s being ripped in half!”
The raw, desperate honesty in Kaelen’s voice hit Soren like a physical blow.
Soren opened his mouth, but no words came out.
The icy wind blew between them, but the heat radiating off Kaelen was suffocating.
“I don’t hate you,” Kaelen whispered, stepping even closer, his deep voice cracking slightly.
“I am terrified of losing the tiny bit of trust you gave me.”
Soren stared at him, his blue eyes wide, his internal walls crumbling at an alarming rate.
He felt a sudden, overpowering urge to reach out, to wrap his arms around Kaelen’s neck, to tell him that he hadn’t been afraid of Kaelen—he had been afraid of himself.
Before Soren could utter a single word, the magic chain between their wrists flared into a blinding, violent shade of crimson.
A sharp, primal sense of danger slammed through the bond.
DANGER.
!
(^~^)
Kaelen literally admitting that the thought of Soren fearing him makes his soul feel like it’s being ripped in half?!
And just when Soren was about to tear down his internal walls, chain flashes crimson!
What kind of danger is waiting for them on that narrow path —Lucian’s trackers or the Northern Pack?!
Drop your predictions in the comments, add the book to your library, and drop a vote if you loved this chapter!
See you in Chapter 18!