Chapter 13 — The Call Beneath My Skin
652 Words
Aria
The storm doesn’t arrive.
It awakens.
One moment, the air is heavy with midsummer heat. The next, the valley convulses — wind tearing through the forest, branches thrashing, rain falling like shattered glass. The sky rips open above the packhouse, and thunder cracks close enough to shake the bones beneath my feet.
But this isn’t just weather.
It’s a summons.
My wolf feels it first — her awareness pricking like claws against my ribs. The air hums with something ancient, something I recognize before I can name it. It tastes like ozone and salt and longing.
The mark on my palm flares.
I clutch my hand to my chest, breath catching as silver light seeps through my skin. The pain isn’t pain at all — it’s connection. A heartbeat that isn’t mine pounding in time with my own.
“Kael…”
His name slips out like a secret I was never meant to speak.
The world tilts.
The storm falls away.
And suddenly, I see.
Flashes — the jagged edge of cliffs, a black sea clawing at rock, the glint of eyes like molten gold. His hand, bloodied. His voice, low and rough, whispering into the dark.
Hold.
The sound of it cuts through me, too real, too close. My pulse stumbles. My wolf whines, pacing inside me like she knows what I won’t admit: he’s calling me.
I stagger backward, gripping the edge of the balcony door. The rain outside slams against the glass, each drop echoing the thunder of my heart.
“You shouldn’t feel this,” I whisper to the emptiness.
My wolf answers with a growl that thrums with defiance.
Then a knock.
“Aria?”
I jolt, breath sharp in my throat. Lena stands in the doorway, rain dripping from her cloak, worry written across her face. “Rhea’s looking for you,” she says. “The border wards are reacting again. The council’s in a panic.”
I force my voice steady. “It’s just the storm.”
She doesn’t look convinced. Her eyes flick to my hand. The mark’s still glowing faintly beneath my sleeve. I curl my fingers into a fist before she can see.
“Tell her I’ll be there soon.”
Lena nods slowly, hesitating like she wants to say more, but then she leaves, closing the door softly behind her.
When she’s gone, I collapse against the wall and press my palm flat over my heart. The mark burns hotter, pulsing to a rhythm that isn’t human.
The storm howls outside, alive, electric, impossible.
It’s him. I can feel it.
The bond threads through me like lightning — too strong, too sudden. My vision swims. I smell rain, pine, blood, and him.
“Stop,” I whisper, but the word comes out broken.
A gust of wind blows the balcony doors wide open. The air hits me — sharp, wild, charged with something that feels like desire and danger braided together. The scent of him rides the storm.
My knees nearly give out.
I don’t need to see him to know he’s there — somewhere beyond the mountains, answering this same call.
Hold.
The word isn’t spoken. It’s felt. A command, a plea, a promise.
Lightning flashes across the horizon, silver and blinding. For a heartbeat, I think I see him standing at the edge of that light — too far to reach, too close to ignore.
Then it’s gone.
The storm breaks over the packhouse, rain slamming against the stone roof in a rhythm that matches my heartbeat. I shut the doors and press my forehead to the cool glass, breathing hard.
If the bond keeps growing like this, it won’t just tie us together.
It’ll expose everything — the bloodline, the curse, the power the goddess left buried in me.
And when Rhea finds out… she won’t stop at trying to control me.
She’ll destroy him.
Or me.
- Writer
