She woke to the scent of cedar and the ache of her own body. Her head throbbed, a sharp pulse at her temple where a gash stung beneath a crude bandage. Bruises bloomed across her ribs, each breath a reminder of Jason's grip. The room swam into focus: rough-hewn walls, a flickering fire, and a man sitting across from her, his silver eyes catching the light like twin moons. She froze, her heart slamming against her chest.
"Who are you?" Her voice cracked, raw and trembling, the question spilling out before she could stop it.
The man stilled, his gaze softening as if her words had struck something deep. "I'm Kael," he said, voice low, steady, like he was coaxing a wounded animal. "You're safe here, in my cabin. I found you in the woods, hurt. Do you remember?"
Her breath hitched. Memories clawed at her—Jason's snarl, his hands gripping her arms, his lies that turned to pain. She recoiled, pressing herself into the worn couch, her fingers digging into the coarse blanket. Her body screamed in protest, but fear drowned out the pain. "Stay back," she whispered, her eyes darting to the door, then back to him.
Kael raised his hands, palms open, and leaned back in his chair. "I won't come closer," he said, his tone even, deliberate. "You're in control here."
Her gaze flicked over him, searching for a threat. He was broad-shouldered, his dark hair falling in loose waves, but it was his eyes that unnerved her—silver and piercing, yet warm, like they saw too much. She shivered, not entirely from the cold.
"You're hurt," he said, nodding toward her temple. "I cleaned the gash, but it needs checking. Can I?" He gestured to a small wooden box beside him, filled with bandages and a jar of salve.
Her instinct was to refuse, but the pain in her head was a relentless drumbeat. She gave a tight nod, her body tense as he moved. His steps were slow, measured, as if he knew one wrong move would send her bolting. He knelt a careful distance away, setting the box between them like a barrier. His fingers, calloused but gentle, unwrapped the old bandage. She flinched at the contact, her breath catching, but his touch was firm yet soft, sparking an unwanted heat that coiled low in her belly. She hated it—hated her body for reacting, hated the way his scent, cedar and musk, clung to the air.
"Im not sure but I think I Heard something" she said "about a bond" forcing her voice steady, needing to distract herself from his nearness. "What does that mean?"
Kael's hands paused, his eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to his work. "The Moon's Gift," he said. "A connection between true mates. Rare. Sacred. It's why I found you—why I couldn't leave you out there."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Jason had spun tales of destiny, too, before his words turned to chains. "I don't believe that" she said, her voice shaken "I don't even know you."
"I know," Kael said simply, no trace of offense in his tone. He finished applying the salve, his fingers lingering a moment too long before he pulled back. "You don't have to believe me. Not now. Maybe not ever. But I'm not him."
Her chest tightened. How did he know about Jason? Had she spoken in her delirium? She studied him, searching for a lie, but found only that unsettling warmth in his gaze. He stood, retreating to the far side of the room, and picked up a woolen jacket from a chair. "You're shivering," he said, holding it out without stepping closer.
She hesitated, then took it, her fingers brushing the soft fabric. His scent enveloped her as she draped it over her shoulders, stirring something deep and primal. She pushed the feeling down, focusing on the fire's crackle instead. Outside, the wind carried a distant howl, sharp and hungry. Her pulse spiked, her eyes darting to the window.
Kael moved to the door, checking the intricate runes carved into the frame. The air hummed faintly, a ward's energy pulsing, but one symbol flickered, its glow unsteady.
Lira's stomach churned. "They're coming for me."
"Not tonight," Kael said, his focus intense as he traced the flickering rune with a finger, muttering low words that made the air shimmer. The ward steadied, but the tension in his shoulders didn't. She watched him, torn between fear and a strange fascination at his precision, his control.
He turned, catching her stare. "You're safe here," he said again, softer this time. "The wards will hold. I've been reinforcing them for years."
"Why?" she asked, the question slipping out. "Why do this for me?"
Kael's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. "My mother used to tell me stories," he said, his voice quieter now. "About true mates, about the Moon's Gift. My father left us when I was a kid, but she never stopped believing. I waited all my life, hoping she was right. Then I found you."
Her heart raced, his words stirring something she didn't want to name. She wanted to scoff, to call it another pretty lie, but the rawness in his voice stopped her. She clutched the blanket tighter, her fingers brushing the jacket's warmth. "I don't even know who I am," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "Just… Lira. It's the only thing I remember before Jason took me."
Kael's eyes softened, but he didn't press her. "Lira," he repeated, like he was tasting the name. "It's enough for now."
Exhaustion pulled at her, her eyelids heavy. She sank deeper into the couch, still clutching his jacket, its warmth grounding her even as her dreams flickered with moonlight and an unfamiliar voice calling her name. Outside, a shadow moved beyond the window, too quick to be sure. Her pulse raced, but Kael's steady presence kept her anchored—for now.