Chapter 8: Threads Between Them
636 Words
Kael
He shouldn’t have come this close.
From the shelter of the trees, Kael watched Hollowbrook stir awake with the dawn. Smoke rose from chimneys, hens scattered in the yards, and voices floated on the crisp air. The villagers looked small from where he stood, fragile in their routines. Prey.
And yet his eyes searched for only one.
Aria.
When she stepped out of her cottage, basket hooked over one arm, Kael’s chest constricted. The wolf inside him pressed forward, ears pricked, tail high, desperate to close the distance. Her scent drifted to him on the breeze—wildflowers and parchment, ink and something older, something untamed that the human nose would never notice.
He dug his claws into the bark of a tree until splinters bit his skin.
Stay away. Stay away.
But his gaze refused to move. She walked the narrow path toward the well, skirt brushing against the grass, sunlight catching in her dark hair. She smiled faintly when the baker greeted her, though Kael noticed the shadows beneath her eyes, the fatigue etched in her face.
He had done that. His howl had reached her dreams.
The wolf preened at the thought. The man burned with shame.
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Aria
The morning felt different, heavier. Aria forced her lips into polite smiles as she greeted neighbors, but her mind wandered, drawn back to the restless night.
The dreams clung to her. Silver fur flashing between trees. A heartbeat echoing in her chest that wasn’t her own. A voice that hadn’t spoken, yet whispered all the same.
At the well, she nearly dropped her bucket when a hunter passed her.
Not just any hunter—Gregor, one of the men who ranged farthest into the woods. His sharp eyes lingered on her longer than she liked, suspicion curling in their depths.
“You look pale, girl,” he said. “Best keep inside when the moon’s high. Things move in the forest these nights. Not all of them welcome.”
She forced a laugh, though it rang hollow. “I’ve no wish to wander the woods, Gregor.”
But his stare told her he wasn’t convinced.
When he left, her hands trembled as she hoisted the water. Something inside her told her the hunters were closer to whatever haunted her dreams than she dared believe.
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Kael
The pack had followed him.
He sensed them before he saw them: the faint crunch of boots, the brush of fur against bark. Darius stepped into the clearing, arms folded, his expression coiled tight. Two younger wolves lingered at his side, hungry-eyed.
“You stalk her like prey,” Darius said. His voice carried just enough for Kael alone to hear. “The pack whispers, Kael. They smell her on you.”
Kael’s lips pulled back in a silent snarl. “She is nothing to them. She is nothing to you.”
“Then prove it,” Darius snapped. “Turn your back. Walk away.”
The wolf inside Kael bristled. Ours, it growled, the word echoing through bone and marrow.
He forced his human voice steady. “Mind your tongue, Darius. Challenge me, and you’ll regret it.”
For a moment, tension coiled so thick it could snap. Then Darius inclined his head, slow, mocking.
“Careful, Alpha,” he said softly. “Your instincts betray you. And when they do, they’ll betray us all.”
They melted into the woods again, leaving Kael seething.
He turned his gaze back to Aria, who was walking home now, unaware of the storm gathering around her.
Kael’s claws dug deeper into the bark.
He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t claim her.
But the threads between them tightened with every breath, every step, every heartbeat.
And Kael knew, with bone-deep certainty, that sooner or later—something would break.
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