Chapter 3
The moon was high over Arrow Brooke, its silver light spilling across the rooftops like liquid frost. The night was still, save for the occasional whisper of wind through the barren trees, and yet Rheon Draven felt anything but calm. His entire body was thrumming with restless energy, his muscles wound tight, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and desire. He sat at the edge of his bed, his elbows braced against his thighs, his fingers laced together as he struggled to rein in the emotions clawing at his control. His mind kept circling back to her, the woman who had turned her back on him as if the bond between them was nothing more than a fleeting shadow. It was infuriating, maddening even, that she could ignore something so primal, so undeniable. His wolf had been on edge since the moment he had laid eyes on her, and now, the beast inside him growled with barely contained impatience, demanding that he do something—anything—to claim what was his.
Rheon had never met a woman like Aeris Valkryn before. She was nothing like the she-wolves of his pack, who either sought his favor or feared his authority. No, Aeris had looked him in the eye without a hint of submission, her sharp tongue lashing out at him as if he were nothing more than an ordinary man. That should have angered him—it should have made him walk away. And yet, it only fueled his obsession. He could still see the way her storm-grey eyes had glinted under the dim tavern lights, challenging him, daring him to pursue her. She had smiled at him like he was insignificant, like she hadn’t felt the raw, undeniable force of their mate bond snapping into place. But she had felt it. He knew she had.
And now, she was running from it.
The thought sent a fresh wave of irritation through him, and he shot to his feet, pacing the length of his room in agitated strides. His instincts were at war with his rationality, his need to hunt her down battling against the logic that told him to wait, to strategize. But Rheon had never been a man of patience, and the idea of giving Aeris space, of letting her slip through his fingers, was enough to make his wolf snarl in protest. He wasn’t going to let her run. He wasn’t going to let her pretend that this connection between them didn’t exist.
Because no matter how much she denied it, she was his.
Aeris had always known that her past would catch up to her eventually. She had spent years keeping her head down, avoiding trouble, staying just out of reach of the wolves who would tear her apart if they knew what she really was. But this—this was different. This wasn’t the fear of being hunted for her bloodline, nor was it the worry of old enemies resurfacing. No, what she felt now was something far worse. It was the fear of being claimed.
She sat on the floor of her small apartment, her back pressed against the cold, peeling wallpaper, her knees drawn to her chest as she tried to steady her breathing. The scent of night and earth still lingered in her mind, a haunting reminder of the man she had foolishly crossed paths with. Rheon Draven. Just thinking his name sent an unsettling shiver down her spine, her pulse quickening despite her attempts to stay calm. She could still feel the way his gaze had burned into her, as if he could see through every wall she had ever built, as if he could unravel her with nothing but a look. She hated that. She hated how easily he had slipped under her skin, how effortlessly he had made her feel exposed.
And worst of all, she hated that some part of her had wanted to lean into it.
Aeris squeezed her eyes shut, cursing herself for her own weakness. She had spent her entire life surviving on her own, learning the hard way that no one could be trusted, that love was nothing more than a beautiful lie used to chain people in place. Her mother had taught her that lesson well—had drilled it into her bones with every harsh word, every cold glare, every reminder that she was unwanted. So why, then, was her heart betraying her now? Why did she still feel the ghost of Rheon’s touch even though he had never truly laid his hands on her? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
But it was happening anyway.
And that was the most terrifying part of all.
Rheon was done waiting.
By the time he reached the worn-down apartment complex at the edge of town, his decision had already been made. The moment he had caught her scent on the wind—a tantalizing mix of jasmine and something darker, something uniquely her—he had known exactly where to find her. His strides were purposeful as he approached the door, his pulse steady, his mind clear. He wasn’t here to ask permission. He wasn’t here to give her a choice.
Because she had already been chosen.
Without hesitation, he pushed the door open, the old wood groaning under his strength. The moment he stepped inside, she was already moving. A flash of silver caught his eye, the glint of a blade slicing through the dim light, but Rheon was faster. He caught her wrist before the weapon could reach him, his grip firm but controlled, his golden eyes locking onto hers. For a long, breathless moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was electric, charged with something raw and volatile. Aeris’s breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling in quick succession, but her eyes—**gods, her eyes—**held nothing but defiance.
“You’re faster than I expected,” Rheon murmured, his voice a low rumble in the stillness. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as if he were amused rather than concerned that she had just tried to stab him. “I suppose I should be flattered.”
Aeris narrowed her gaze, her body tense beneath his touch. “Let. Me. Go.” Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, a silent warning that she would not be so easily cornered. But Rheon only tilted his head, studying her with quiet fascination.
“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he said, his tone softer now, almost dangerous in its quiet intensity. “But we both know you felt it. The bond. The pull.” His thumb brushed against the inside of her wrist, barely a whisper of contact, yet enough to send a sharp jolt through her body. “Deny it all you want, Aeris, but you can’t outrun what you are to me.”
Aeris’s jaw clenched, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She wanted to scream, to shove him away, to tell him that he was wrong. But she couldn’t. Because he wasn’t.
And that was the problem.
For the first time in her life, she wasn’t running from a threat. She wasn’t running from an enemy.
She was running from something far more dangerous.
She was running from him.
And deep down, in the part of her that she refused to acknowledge—
She knew she wouldn’t be able to run forever.
