Chapter 2
The silence between them stretched, thick as the storm-laden air outside, an invisible tether tightening the moment their gazes locked. The tavern around them had not ceased its noise—the murmur of drunken conversations, the clatter of glass, the occasional burst of laughter—but for Rheon Draven, all of it had dulled, faded into an inconsequential hum.
Because his wolf was snarling, clawing at his skin, demanding one thing—
Mine.
The word reverberated through his mind like a thunderclap, shaking the very foundation of his restraint.
But this—this could not be.
His fated mate, the one the universe had deemed his perfect match, was not a strong, well-bred she-wolf from his pack, not the carefully chosen candidate the elders had demanded he take.
It was her.
The woman behind the bar, wiping a glass with slow, deliberate movements, her face deceptively unreadable even as her fingers trembled, just slightly.
Aeris Valkryn.
Half-wolf, half-something-else.
A rogue. An outsider.
Rheon’s hands curled into fists at his sides.
He had spent years training himself to suppress his emotions, to push away any distraction that might interfere with his responsibilities. And yet, here he was, with his wolf clawing at him, begging for him to cross the room and claim what was his.
His mate.
She wasn’t supposed to exist.
And yet, the moment he had walked into this bar, her scent had wrapped around him like a noose, a sharp mix of night-blooming jasmine, old magic, and something uniquely hers—something that made his wolf howl.
He took a step forward before he could stop himself.
And Aeris moved away.
It was subtle, the way she shifted her weight, how her hand reached for a bottle as if she had no care in the world. But Rheon saw it for what it was.
A retreat.
A rejection.
And it made his wolf snarl.
Aeris had felt it too.
He had seen it in her storm-grey eyes, that flicker of recognition, of undeniable truth. But she was running from it. Running from him.
Rheon’s jaw tightened as he approached the bar, his hands bracing against the edge of the counter, his gaze locked on her.
She ignored him.
He exhaled sharply, his voice coming out low, steady. Too steady.
“Look at me.”
She continued polishing the glass, her lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk. “I don’t take orders from strangers.”
His wolf snapped its teeth, the need to dominate, to claim, surging through his veins.
He wasn’t used to being dismissed.
His pack submitted to him without hesitation. His enemies feared him.
And yet, this woman, this slip of a thing with storm-colored eyes, was acting as if he were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.
She was testing him.
And gods help him, it only made him want her more.
Rheon leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice so that only she could hear him.
“You feel it, don’t you?”
For the first time, she hesitated.
It was small, barely noticeable, but Rheon caught it. The way her fingers clenched around the rag she was holding, how her shoulders stiffened just a little.
Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, she set the glass down, meeting his gaze head-on.
And smiled.
It wasn’t a warm smile.
It was sharp. Mocking.
“Feel what?” she murmured, tilting her head as if genuinely curious.
Rheon’s patience thinned.
He had expected denial. But this?
This was defiance.
And it infuriated him.
His wolf was urging him to reach across the bar, to drag her to him, to force her to acknowledge what was already written into their very souls.
Instead, he leaned in just a fraction more, his voice dropping to a near-growl.
“You know exactly what.”
Her smirk widened, her grey eyes dark with something he couldn’t quite name.
“You must be mistaken, Alpha.” She dragged the title out like it was an insult. “Because I don’t feel a damn thing.”
Liar.
The word was instant, curling in his mind with certainty.
She was lying.
She had felt the bond snap into place just as surely as he had.
She was simply choosing to ignore it.
Rheon exhaled slowly through his nose, reining in the raw, untamed urge to demand obedience.
Fine.
If she wanted to play this game, he would let her.
For now.
But there was one thing she needed to understand.
She was his.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not.
And he did not take kindly to being ignored.
His voice was deceptively calm when he spoke again.
“Tell me your name.”
Aeris arched a brow, feigning boredom. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, voice dropping to something dangerous, “if you won’t say it, I’ll have to find out another way.”
Something flickered in her gaze then, just for a moment. Not fear, no—something else.
Curiosity.
Amusement.
And, deep beneath it all—uncertainty.
She knew what he was.
She knew what this was.
And yet, she still pretended.
The tension between them was thick, suffocating, crackling like a live wire.
And then, with a slow exhale, she murmured, “Aeris.”
Rheon let the name settle on his tongue, tasting it.
Aeris.
His mate.
His wolf howled in satisfaction, but he kept his expression impassive.
“Aeris,” he repeated, savoring the way her name felt in his mouth. Then, after a beat, he said, “I will see you again.”
It was not a request.
It was a promise.
Aeris exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t hold your breath, Alpha.”
And with that, she turned away.
Dismissed him.
Rheon’s jaw tightened.
She thought this was over.
She thought she could ignore what had just happened, pretend the pull between them wasn’t there.
She was wrong.
Because now that he had found her—now that fate had revealed its hand—there was no going back.
She belonged to him.
And whether she liked it or not…
He would make her see it.
