Marked by Desire

Chapter thirteen

ALINA’S POV

I didn’t make it far.

I had barely crossed the edge of the training grounds when the feeling hit—sharp, sudden, and impossible to ignore.

The bond.

It flared violently in my chest, hotter than before, tighter, like something was pulling at me with actual force. My steps slowed, then stopped completely as I sucked in a breath.

He was close.

Too close.

“Rhett…” I muttered under my breath, already turning toward the forest without thinking.

The pull intensified immediately, like a thread being yanked tighter.

I followed it.

Of course I did.

Branches brushed against my arms as I moved deeper into the trees, faster now, my pulse rising with every step. I didn’t know if it was urgency or anger or something else entirely driving me—but I didn’t stop until I reached a small clearing.

And he was there.

Waiting.

Not calm this time.

Not controlled.

Rhett stood in the center of the clearing, shoulders tense, jaw tight, his eyes already locked onto mine the second I stepped into view.

“You’re getting bold,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the way the bond surged between us.

“You’re getting careless,” he shot back immediately.

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I felt it,” he said, taking a step toward me. “All of it.”

My chest tightened. “You don’t get to—”

“With him?” he cut in, his voice sharper now. “Walking around like nothing’s wrong?”

“It was nothing,” I snapped.

His expression darkened. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You expect me to believe that?” he challenged, closing the distance between us. “Because it didn’t feel like nothing.”

The bond pulsed again, echoing his anger, his frustration, wrapping around my chest until it was hard to breathe properly.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I said, my voice lower now.

“You always have a choice.”

“Not in this,” I shot back. “This is my father. My pack. My responsibility—”

“And what am I?”

The question hit harder than anything else.

I opened my mouth—but nothing came out.

He stepped closer again, and this time, there was no space left between us.

“You think I can just stand by while you entertain this?” he said, his voice quieter now, but far more dangerous.

“I wasn’t entertaining anything,” I insisted.

“You were there.”

“I was forced to be there!”

“Then leave.”

“It’s not that simple!”

“It is,” he said. “You’re just making it complicated.”

I shook my head, frustration building. “You don’t understand—”

“No,” he cut in sharply. “You don’t understand.”

The bond surged again, stronger, like it was reacting to every word, every step, every inch of space between us.

“You felt what I felt,” he continued, his voice dropping. “You felt how wrong it was.”

I hesitated.

That was enough.

His gaze sharpened instantly. “Exactly.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” I said quickly.

“It changes everything.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.

“I’m trying to protect you,” I said, softer now.

His expression didn’t shift. “By pushing me away?”

“Yes.”

“Stop.”

The word was quiet—but firm.

I frowned. “What?”

“Stop deciding what’s best for me,” he said. “You don’t get to do that.”

“I’m not deciding—”

“You are,” he interrupted. “You’re shutting me out and calling it protection.”

I didn’t respond.

Because part of me knew he wasn’t wrong.

That only made it worse.

He stepped closer again, slower this time, his gaze holding mine. The anger hadn’t disappeared—but it had changed. Settled into something deeper.

More controlled.

More dangerous.

“I felt you with him,” he said quietly.

My breath caught.

“And you expect me to be fine with that?”

“I don’t expect anything,” I replied. “I just need you to understand—”

“I understand enough.”

The bond pulsed again, strong and steady, but underneath it, something else lingered now.

Possession.

Frustration.

Something that made it harder to look away from him.

“You’re mine,” he said again, softer this time—but no less certain.

The words sent a sharp wave through me, my breath hitching despite myself.

“I told you before,” I said, though my voice lacked strength. “I’m not something you can just claim.”

His gaze dropped briefly—again—to my lips, slower this time. Deliberate.

Then back to my eyes.

“I’m not claiming you,” he murmured. “I’m reminding you.”

The air shifted.

Everything felt closer. Tighter.

Too much.

I took a small step back, needing space, needing to think. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“And yet I am.”

“They’re already tracking you.”

“Let them.”

“That’s not something to joke about,” I snapped.

“I’m not joking.”

The seriousness in his tone made my chest tighten again.

“If they find you—”

“They won’t,” he said.

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know that they will,” he countered.

I stared at him, frustration and worry twisting together. “Why are you like this?”

That earned the faintest hint of something—almost amusement, but not quite.

“Because you keep trying to send me away,” he said.

“I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“I don’t need that from you.”

“Too bad,” I shot back. “You’re getting it anyway.”

That made him pause.

Just for a second.

Then something in his expression shifted—subtle, but real.

The tension didn’t break.

It shifted.

Neither of us moved, but something between us settled just enough to breathe through it. The anger was still there—his, sharp and restless—but it wasn’t exploding anymore. It was… waiting.

Watching.

I exhaled slowly, folding my arms like I needed something to hold onto. “This isn’t working,” I said.

His gaze didn’t leave mine. “Then fix it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It can be,” he replied. “You just don’t want it to be.”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand what it’s like there. I’m being watched, Rhett. More than before.”

His expression tightened slightly. “By who?”

“My father. The pack. Kai.” I paused. “Everyone.”

That got his attention. I saw it in the way his posture shifted, the way the bond flickered in response.

“So what?” he said after a moment. “That means you just stay away from me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

I hesitated. The answer sat right there, heavy and risky and unavoidable.

“That we have to be careful.”

His jaw tightened. “Careful sounds a lot like distant.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It feels the same.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “You want me to come see you every time you feel like it?”

“Yes.”

The answer was immediate.

I stared at him. “That’s not realistic.”

“It is if you stop letting them control you.”

“And how exactly do you suggest I do that?” I shot back. “Walk out in the middle of the night every day and hope no one notices?”

“If that’s what it takes—”

“It’s not,” I cut in firmly. “That’s how we get caught.”

Silence followed.

The bond pulsed, quieter now, but still present, still listening.

“I can’t do this every day,” I said, softer this time, but no less firm. “I won’t risk it like that.”

His gaze hardened slightly. “So you’d rather not see me at all?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Then say what you mean.”

I held his gaze, forcing the words out. “We space it out.”

He didn’t respond immediately.

“How?” he asked finally.

I took a breath. “Every two days.”

His expression didn’t change—but the bond did. It flickered, uncertain, like he wasn’t satisfied with that.

“That’s not enough,” he said.

“It has to be.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does,” I insisted. “If I disappear every night, someone will notice. Kai already suspects something. If I push it too far, I won’t be able to come at all.”

That made him pause.

Just for a second—but it was enough.

“You’re serious,” he said.

“I am.”

He looked away briefly, jaw tightening as he considered it. I could feel the frustration still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“You’re asking me to wait,” he said.

“I’m asking you not to ruin this before it even starts,” I replied.

His gaze snapped back to mine.

“This already started,” he said.

I didn’t argue that. I couldn’t.

The bond pulsed again, stronger this time, like it was agreeing with him.

“Then don’t make it impossible,” I said quietly.

Silence settled between us again, but this time it wasn’t sharp. It was heavy with decision.

Finally, he exhaled slowly.

“Every two days,” he said, like he didn’t like the words even as he agreed to them.

Relief flickered through me, quick and subtle.

“At the river,” I added.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Same place.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t miss it.”

I hesitated for half a second.

“I won’t,” I said.

The bond steadied.

Not calm. Not soft. But… aligned.

A quiet agreement settling into place between us.

Dangerous.

Necessary.

Rhett stepped back slightly then, just enough to create space again, though his gaze didn’t leave mine.

“Two days,” he repeated.

I nodded.

And just like that, we had created something we weren’t supposed to have.

A pattern.

A secret.

Something that, if anyone found out—

Would destroy everything.

But as I stood there, feeling the bond settle into that quiet, steady rhythm again, one thing became clear.

I wasn’t going to stop.

And neither was he.