Marked by Desire

Chapter fourteen

ALINA’S POV

I could barely keep my eyes open.

The food in front of me looked fine—normal, even—but I hadn’t touched most of it. My fork moved lazily across the plate, pushing things around more than actually eating.

Every part of me felt heavy.

The kind of tired that didn’t go away with sleep.

Because I hadn’t really slept.

Not after last night.

Not after him.

The bond was quieter now, but not gone. It never really was. It lingered beneath everything, steady and present, like a reminder I couldn’t escape.

“You’re not eating.”

I looked up.

Kai sat across from me, his gaze already fixed on me, sharp and observant in a way that immediately made my chest tighten.

“I am,” I said, glancing back down at my plate.

“You’ve been moving your food around for the last five minutes.”

I paused.

Then forced myself to take a bite.

“Better?” I muttered.

He didn’t answer right away.

That silence again. That watching.

It was starting to get under my skin.

“You didn’t sleep well,” he said eventually.

It wasn’t a question.

“No,” I replied. “I didn’t.”

“Why?”

I shrugged lightly. “Just couldn’t.”

Another lie.

It slipped out easier than it should have.

Kai leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes still on me, studying, measuring.

“You’ve been restless lately,” he said.

I forced a small, unimpressed look. “You’ve been paying too much attention.”

That almost sounded normal. Almost like us.

But it didn’t feel like it.

His gaze didn’t soften. “Someone has to.”

The words were simple—but there was something underneath them that made my stomach twist.

“I can take care of myself,” I said.

“I know,” he replied.

Another pause.

Then—

“You didn’t go out again, did you?”

My grip tightened slightly around my fork.

“No.”

He held my gaze for a second longer than necessary.

Like he was waiting.

For what, I didn’t know.

Then he nodded once, slowly, like he was filing that answer away somewhere.

“Good,” he said.

But it didn’t sound like he believed me.

⸻

Training felt harder than usual.

Not physically—my body could handle that—but mentally.

I was distracted.

Every movement felt just slightly off, like I wasn’t fully present. The lack of sleep didn’t help, but it wasn’t just that.

It was everything.

The meeting with my father.

The list.

Darius.

Rhett.

The bond stirred faintly at the thought of him, like it was reacting without my permission.

I exhaled slowly, trying to focus.

“Your head’s not in this.”

I turned slightly.

Amala stood a few steps away, arms crossed, watching me with a knowing look.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You’re not,” she replied immediately.

I glanced around briefly before walking toward her, lowering my voice. “He’s watching me.”

Her expression shifted slightly. “Kai?”

I nodded.

“Not just watching,” I added. “Paying attention.”

Amala exhaled quietly. “Then stop giving him something to notice.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“Try harder.”

I frowned. “That’s not helpful.”

“It’s the truth,” she said. “You look exhausted, distracted, tense. If I can see it, he definitely can.”

I didn’t argue.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

“You need to act normal,” she continued. “Move normally. Speak normally. Stop looking like you’re hiding something.”

I let out a quiet breath. “I am hiding something.”

“Then hide it better.”

⸻

By midday, the entire pack felt different.

Tighter.

More alert.

It didn’t take long to find out why.

“A patrol picked up a scent,” someone said nearby.

My stomach dropped before I even heard the rest.

“Black Ridge wolf.”

The words spread quickly, quiet but heavy.

Too close.

Again.

I felt it instantly—the shift in the air, the tension rolling through the pack like something alive.

More guards.

More movement.

More attention.

And then—

I felt it.

The bond.

Not calm. Not steady.

Restless.

Like something was pushing against it from the other side.

Rhett.

I inhaled sharply, my focus slipping for just a second as the feeling brushed against me—uneasy, unsettled.

Like he felt it too.

Like he knew something was wrong.

I forced myself to stay still. To breathe normally. To not react.

But it wasn’t easy.

Because the bond didn’t fade.

It lingered.

Waiting.

⸻

That night, I stayed in my room.

I had to.

There were more guards outside than usual—I could hear them faintly, their movements steady and deliberate. The entire house felt watched.

Which meant I was too.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion pulling at me but not enough to drag me under. My mind wouldn’t settle.

The bond flickered again.

Faint.

Then gone.

Then back.

I sat up slowly, running a hand through my hair.

“Stop,” I muttered under my breath.

It didn’t listen.

Of course it didn’t.

I pushed the covers back and stood, moving toward the window, needing air, needing space, even if it didn’t really help.

The night outside was quiet. Too quiet.

I rested my hand lightly against the frame, exhaling slowly.

“You should be sleeping.”

My entire body went still.

I turned.

Kai stood just inside my door.

I hadn’t heard him come in.

My pulse jumped.

“I couldn’t,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even.

His gaze flicked briefly toward the window, then back to me.

“Restless again?”

“Yes.”

He stepped further into the room, slow, controlled. Watching.

Always watching.

“You’ve been like this a lot lately,” he said.

“I told you. I just can’t sleep.”

He stopped a few steps away from me.

Then, subtly—

He inhaled.

I felt it before I even processed it.

That shift.

That moment where something clicked into place for him.

“You still smell like the forest,” he said.

My chest tightened.

“I was training,” I replied.

“That was hours ago.”

“It lingers.”

His eyes held mine.

Not convinced.

Not at all.

Silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable.

Then—

“You’ve changed,” he said quietly.

The words hit harder than anything else.

I frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re not acting like yourself.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Maybe.”

But the way he said it—

It didn’t sound like he believed that either.

Another pause.

Then he stepped back.

“You should get some rest,” he said.

I nodded slowly. “I will.”

He lingered for a second longer.

Then turned and left.

The door closed behind him softly.

I didn’t move for a while.

Didn’t breathe properly either.

Because something had shifted.

Not loudly. Not obviously.

But enough.