Chapter Six
1486 Words
Lyra POV
I woke up to the kind of silence that feels intentional. Like the house was holding its breath just to see what I’d do.
For a second, I didn’t move. I stared at the ceiling, half expecting the events of the last twenty-four hours to unravel like a bad dream. But no. I was still wrapped in a borrowed flannel. My shoulder was still throbbing in that deep, wrong way. And I was still in Kael’s house.
Which meant everything was real.
I groaned into the pillow. “Great. Fantastic. Love my life.”
The bed was warm. Too warm. Too comfortable. Standing up felt like a betrayal. But the smell drifting in from somewhere down the hall—something warm, smoky, maybe coffee—dragged me upright whether I wanted it to or not.
I shuffled to the door, cracked it open, and froze.
I could hear him.
Downstairs. Moving around the kitchen. Quiet, steady, predictably controlled. None of that shocked me. What shocked me was the strange, low hum curling under my skin, pointing me like a compass needle straight toward him.
Absolutely not.
Nope.
I ignored the weird tug and stomped down the hallway like I wasn’t being spiritually magnetized by an overgrown wolf-man.
The stairs creaked. The kitchen came into view.
And there he was.
Kael stood with his back to me, sleeves pushed up, hair still damp from what was definitely a cold shower of emotional suppression. He was stirring something on the stove, muscles in his arms flexing in a way that seemed aggressively unnecessary for morning domesticity.
My brain short-circuited like someone had thrown water onto exposed wiring.
He turned.
His eyes snapped to me instantly—sharp, bright, too intense. His whole body reacted like my existence was a jump scare he’d known was coming but still wasn’t prepared for.
“You’re awake,” he said.
I almost laughed. “Unfortunately.”
He stared a second too long. Like he was doing diagnostics. Like he needed to confirm I was actually alive and not a hallucination created by stress and fate.
Then, in classic Kael fashion, he shifted his gaze away so fast you’d think looking at me directly was illegal.
“You should be resting.”
“And you should be less… intense,” I muttered. “But here we are.”
His jaw tightened. Which was, honestly, unfairly attractive.
I slid onto a stool at the counter. My shoulder pulled as I moved, sending a spark of pain up my arm. Kael froze mid-stir, the change so subtle I almost missed it.
“You’re hurting,” he said.
“It’s almost like I got mauled,” I deadpanned.
He didn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to. He set a plate in front of me—eggs, toast, something warm and simple and deeply comforting.
I blinked. “You… cooked?”
“You need food.”
“No, I mean, you… cooked. With your hands.”
“Yes.”
“Like a person.”
He closed his eyes for a second, and I swear he counted to three. “Eat.”
I picked up a fork, partly because he sounded like he’d personally wrestle me into eating if I didn’t. But also because my stomach was definitely staging a rebellion.
The moment I took a bite, his shoulders relaxed. Just barely. Like feeding me manually lowered his stress levels.
Weird.
He hovered a few feet away, leaning against the counter like his body had been programmed to maintain a safe—or dangerous—distance.
I tried not to look at him.
I failed immediately.
He was leaning on one arm, head slightly tilted down, the morning light catching the sharp line of his jaw. His shirt clung to him in a way that should be illegal before noon. His hair was a mess, damp strands falling over his forehead.
My brain went places it absolutely should not go.
Places involving him stepping closer. Bracing one arm beside my head. Caging me against the counter. That low voice of his saying things it had no business saying—
“Lyra.”
My entire fantasy shattered like cheap glass.
I choked on air. “What?”
“You spaced out.”
“Nope.” I shoved more food into my mouth. “Just thinking about how weird this all is.”
His eyes held mine, uncomfortably perceptive. My face felt hot.
I looked away, pretending the toast was the most interesting thing I’d ever seen.
The silence stretched. Heavy. Charged. Like the air between us was thick with static.
Then a knock cut through it.
Sharp. Loud. Not friendly.
Kael straightened instantly, his entire body changing—posture, breath, eyes. Alpha-mode activated in 0.2 seconds.
“Stay here,” he said.
I opened my mouth to argue, but something in his tone shut me up. Completely. He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t snarl. But the command echoed under my skin in a way I didn’t understand.
He moved to the door with deliberate steps, every line of him coiled and ready.
The door opened.
A man stood outside. Tall. Broad. Not as intimidating as Kael but close.
Pack.
His eyes narrowed when he saw me inside. “You brought a human here?”
Kael didn’t flinch. “She’s under my protection.”
The man’s brows shot up. “Kael—”
“That’s all you need to know.”
Something rippled through the air—pressure, dominance, warning. The man stepped back. Not much, but enough to prove he felt it.
“I just came to report sightings near the border,” the man muttered. “Rogues.”
Kael’s entire body tensed. “How many?”
“Two. Maybe three.”
“And?”
“They’re moving closer.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
Kael didn’t look at me, but I felt the shift in him. Like something ancient inside him rose to attention.
“Go,” Kael said. “I’ll handle it.”
The man hesitated a second before nodding and heading off into the snow.
Kael closed the door slowly. Carefully. Then turned.
His eyes found mine immediately.
“Why did he look at me like that?” I whispered.
“Because you’re here,” Kael said. “With me.”
“That doesn’t explain anything.”
He inhaled. Exhaled. Like he was choosing every word with surgical precision.
“You’re not just a human girl in my house,” he said softly. “You’re my mate.”
My heart tripped over itself.
“But we’re not— I’m not— I don’t feel things the way you do.”
“You feel them,” he said. “Just not as strongly yet.”
“Yet?”
His eyes flickered. “The bond grows.”
A warm pulse curled low in my chest. Annoying. Distracting. Unfairly pleasant.
I folded my arms to hide the way my fingers shook. “Well, I don’t want it to.”
His jaw tightened with something like pain. “I know.”
“And you need to stop… looking like that. Around me.”
“Like what?”
I gestured at him helplessly. “Like you’re trying not to pounce.”
He froze so completely it was almost comical.
“I am not—”
“You literally just squared up to the door like someone insulted me on the internet.”
“That is not—”
“And you keep— you keep doing that… thing with your eyes.”
“What thing.”
“That thing where you look away fast like if you don’t, something bad will happen. Or something… intense.”
Silence.
Thick. Full. Heavy with everything neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
Finally, he spoke.
“I’m trying,” he said quietly. “To give you space. To control this. To not overwhelm you.”
I swallowed. Hard.
“Well,” I whispered, “you’re failing.”
His breath hitched.
I didn’t mean it to sound like that—like something pulled tight between us, humming like a live wire.
But it was too late.
The bond thrummed.
Warm. Electric. Dangerous.
Kael stepped back quickly, as if distance alone could break the tension strangling the room.
“You should finish eating,” he said, voice strained. “I’ll… be outside.”
He disappeared before I could say anything else.
The kitchen felt colder without him. Bigger. Too quiet.
I stared at the door long after he vanished into the snow.
I hated how safe I felt here.
I hated how much warmer the bond made me feel.
I hated that my heart was starting to race for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
And most of all…
I hated that a part of me wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t walked away.
- Writer
