The glowing crimson chain linking their wrists didn’t give a damn about personal space.
Soren stood near the fireplace with his silver needle held tightly between his knuckles as he glared across the chamber towards Kaelen in pure arrogance and annoyance
He pulled against the bond, test-tugging until the blood-red link snapped stronger and the moment the length stretched past three feet, causing a searing, white-hot spark to shoot straight through his veins, starting at his wrist and slamming into the cold, silver curse mark on his collarbone.
Soren winced, his knees buckling half an inch before he forced his small frame straight.
He swallowed down a hiss of agony, refusing to let the Alpha see him break.
“I told you,” Kaelen murmured softly, tossing his heavy fur-lined cloak onto a high-backed leather chair.
He stood by the massive oak bed, unbuckling his broad leather sword belt with maddeningly calm, measured movements.
“The chain pulls both ways, little spell-cutter.
And right now, it wants us close.”
“I am sleeping on the couch,” Soren said, pointing a sharp, slender finger toward the velvet sofa resting against the far wall and It was easily eight feet away from the bed.
“Mathematically impossible,” Kaelen replied smoothly.
He set his sword against the nightstand with a heavy metallic clink, then turned his golden wolf eyes directly onto Soren.
” And unless you plan on spending the entire night screaming in pain while that curse freezes your heart.
The moment you stretch past three feet, the spell feedback will trigger.”
Soren glared at the sofa, then at the massive bed that dominated the center of the room.
The mattress was enormous, draped in rich black furs and thick velvet quilts, looking far too warm and inviting for a prisoner’s cell.
“Fine,” Soren spat out, his voice sharp enough to slice glass.
“You take the couch.”
Kaelen actually laughed—a low, dark sound vibrating straight through the room, sending a subtle, traitorous shiver down Soren’s spine.
“I am six-foot-four, Soren.
I don’t fit on the couch,” Kaelen said, stepping toward the bed.
The red chain slackened, floating softly between them like a thread of burning light.
“Take the left side of the bed.
I’ll take the right.
Put a bolster between us if your fragile virtue demands it.”
“My virtue is just fine,” Soren snapped, his pale cheeks flushing a faint, betraying pink.
“It’s my safety I’m concerned about.
I don’t trust feral beasts who look at me like I’m a midnight snack.”
Subtly, while keeping his bright blue eyes locked onto Kaelen, Soren slipped his hand beneath his linen shirt and adjusted the iron dagger tucked securely into his belt in case he needed it at the Alpha’s throat.
He was on standby.
Kaelen noticed the movement instantly.
His golden eyes flickered down to Soren’s slightly exposed waist from lifting up his linen shirt to adjust the knife, a faint, dangerous smirk curling the corner of his lips.
“Keep the knife under your pillow if it helps you sleep, sweetheart.
But if I wanted to claim you, a piece of steel wouldn’t stop me.”
“Try it and find out,” Soren whispered coldly.
Without another word, Soren walked to the far left side of the bed.
He climbed in, keeping his boots on, and pulled a heavy fur blanket up to his chest.
He backed himself as far onto the edge as far as possible without falling off, hugging the wooden bedpost.
Kaelen unbuttoned his top linen tunic, exposing the broad, muscular expanse of his chest and the silver wolf mark burning over his heart.
Soren caught himself staring for a fraction of a second—taking in the sharp cut of the Alpha’s shoulders and the faint battle scars tracing his golden skin—before aggressively jerking his gaze back toward the ceiling.
Curse this bond, Soren thought frantically, his heart hammering like a trapped bird against his ribs.
It’s distorting my head.
It’s just magic.
Just stupid, cursed blood-magic.
When Kaelen sank onto the right side of the bed, the heavy mattress dipped.
Even with two feet of empty space between them, the physical proximity of the Alpha hit Soren like a physical wall of heat.
The freezing, liquid-ice agony radiating from the curse mark near Soren’s collarbone suddenly softened.
The dark, black lines under his skin stopped throbbing, replaced by a deep, intoxicating warmth that flooded his core.
Soren let out a tiny, soft breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
His body instinctively wanted to lean closer to that furnace-like heat, to melt into Kaelen’s side and let the Alpha’s raw aura protect him from the dark venom of the curse in his veins.
Soren bit his lower lip hard until he tasted copper, forcing his mind back into control.
He then gripped the hilt of his hidden dagger under the pillow, closed his eyes, and lay stiff as a board, listening to the heavy, steady rhythm of Kaelen’s breathing in the dark.
(•—•) Chapter 4 is here, and things are officially getting heated in the Northern Reach!
Soren might think his silver needles and dagger can protect him, but he’s quickly realizing that Alpha Kaelen is a completely different kind of threat.
Let me know your favorite lines in the comments!
See you in Chapter 5!