She didn't see him for days again after the torturous situation.
No footsteps in the hallway. No growls. No slamming doors. Nothing.
It was like he'd vanished into the shadows that clung to the manor's walls.
AGAIN.
And the silence?
It was maddening.
Auren paced the halls like a caged animal. Lola tried to distract her with soft chatter, warm bread, and useless jokes, but it didn't work. Nothing did.
Not when the memory of him haunted her every step.
The way his body had trembled.
The way his claws had torn through stone.
The name he'd whispered in the dark.
And now… the way he was avoiding her.
She didn't care if he was cursed or grieving or some ancient goddamn myth come to life. She was done waiting for answers.
She was going to get them.
She found him on the back terrace, standing beneath the storm-heavy sky like it belonged to him. Shirtless, of course. Arms braced against the railing. Shoulders flexed with every breath like he was fighting a war inside his own chest.
She didn't hesitate.
"So we are going to be mates that just FUCK and run?" she said seething...
He didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't even breathe differently.
Her fists clenched. "What's the plan here, Ronan? Pretend I don't exist until your wolf fucks me again?"
Still no answer.
No growl. No mind-link. Just silence.
"Fine," she snapped, storming toward him. "Let's play your game, then."
She stopped only when they were chest to chest.
"I've been patient. I've been respectful. But if you think I'm just going to sit in that goddamn bedroom and wait for you to claim me like some trophy—"
Her voice cracked.
He still didn't speak.
Just stared down at her with those glowing, golden eyes.
Wild. Hungry. Barely human.
She shoved his chest. "Say something."
Nothing.
She hit him again, harder this time. "Fucking say something!"
And that's when everything shattered.
His hand shot out, gripping her wrist like iron.
The other slammed against the wall beside her head as he shoved her back, pinning her between stone and muscle.
His breath came fast and ragged, chest rising and falling like a beast on the brink of carnage.
And when he leaned in?
It wasn't Ronan.
It was the wolf.
Mine.
The word tore through the bond like a brand. Her knees nearly buckled.
"Then act like it," she whispered.
His eyes flared brighter, gold bleeding into black.
Then he snapped.
His mouth crashed against her neck, teeth grazing, breath scorching.
She gasped, her hands flying up to grab his shoulders as he bit down, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to leave no doubt.
A claiming.
A warning.
A promise.
He growled again, the sound primal and low, echoing through her bones.
Her thighs clenched.
"Ronan," she breathed.
"NOT RONAN"filtered into her mind...
It was his wolf, he wanted her so bad he sounded like he was in pain.
Ronan's fingers twitched. Muscles rippled.
And for a moment, just one shattering, electric moment, he let go.
He let the wolf rise.
His claws sank into the stone behind her. His body pressed flush to hers.The mark on her chest pulsed.
Her entire body arched toward him.
And then…
He ripped himself away.
Like he'd been burned.
A savage snarl tore from his throat as he staggered back, eyes wide, hands shaking.
"No!" she shouted. "Don't you fucking run from me again—"
But he was already gone.
He turned and bolted, bare feet slamming against stone, vanishing into the shadows like a ghost trying to outrun his own soul.
Leaving her breathless.
Biting her own lip to keep from chasing him.
And bleeding from a bite mark that would never fade.
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Auren felt the silence press in like a second skin. Her body still buzzed, marked by Ronan's mouth, her chest still heaving from how close—how raw—it had all become. And yet, he'd vanished again.
Coward.
She paced the hallway barefoot, heat still coiled between her thighs and rage thick in her throat. She needed to breathe. To scream. To understand what the hell was happening between them—what was happening to her.
The hall curved, and instinct tugged her down a staircase she hadn't noticed before. The stone was colder here. Older. Dust clung to the air like memory.
And then she saw it.
A massive, arched doorway, carved with runes and nearly choked with ivy, stood slightly ajar. It groaned when she pushed, revealing a forgotten room cloaked in shadow and time. A library.
Not the tidy kind.
This was the feral, untamed heart of a castle. Books piled on tables. Tomes stacked in spires that leaned like drunk soldiers. Faint moonlight spilled through high, broken windows, painting silver rivers across the dark stone floor.
Something about it called to her.
Her fingers brushed along spines and cracked leather as she wandered. Dust coated her fingertips. Ink stained her palm. These weren't casual reading materials. These were blood-bound, spell-etched histories.
And then—
"Auren…"
She froze.
The voice wasn't spoken. It slithered through the air, brushing the back of her neck like a breath. She spun, heart hammering, but no one stood behind her.
"Who's there?" she whispered.
Nothing.
Until the whisper came again, this time inside her skull.
"You bear the mark… the brand… The bond wasn't born, it was awakened."
She staggered back, knocking over a stack of scrolls.
And that's when it happened.
One book. On the far shelf. Fell.
Not tumbled.
Fell.
Deliberate. Precise. As if pulled by invisible hands.
Her pulse roared as she approached. It was black leather, clawed down the middle like something had torn through it. No title. No symbols. But when she picked it up—heat blazed in her palm.
The same heat that bloomed when Ronan's teeth touched her skin.
Auren opened it.
There, scrawled in ink that shimmered like fresh blood, was a single passage:
"When the cursed Alpha bites his fated, the seal begins to crack. But only one marked by both blood and betrayal can break the chain."
Her mark.
Ronan's bite.
Blood. And betrayal.
She dropped the book like it burned her.
Behind her, the shadows shifted.
Not just the candlelight.
Movement.
Something, someone—was watching.
She turned, chest heaving, but found nothing but the echo of her breath and the sound of her own heartbeat.
Still… the library felt changed.
As if now, it remembered her.
As if it had been waiting.
And as she stepped out of that cursed room, clutching the burning book to her chest, she knew something she hadn't before:
This wasn't just about a bond.
The weight of the book pressed against Auren's chest as she crept back through the manor's dim corridors, barefoot and silent. Every echo of her footsteps felt louder than it should. Every shadow felt like it might lean in and whisper again.
But the book stayed quiet now.
It hadn't moved. It hadn't burned her again.
Still, it felt alive.
By the time she reached her room, her heart was still racing. She slipped inside, locking the door behind her more out of instinct than caution.
And that's when she heard it—
A soft gasp.
Lola stood near the window, holding fresh linens to her chest like a shield.
"Oh," Auren blinked. "Sorry, I didn't know—"
"What is that?" Lola's voice was thin. Her eyes were fixed on the book in Auren's hands like it might bite her.
Auren looked down. The leather cover was still torn down the center, like claws had raked it once and no one had dared to repair it.
"It just… fell. In the library," she said. "Something led me to it."
Lola didn't move. "Led you?"
"I didn't mean to go in there," Auren added quickly. "I didn't even know the library existed."
"It shouldn't," Lola whispered.
Auren frowned. "What do you mean?"
Lola's face paled. She set the linens down carefully, like sudden movement might provoke the book.
"Those books," she said, eyes never leaving it. "They were all supposed to be burned. After she died."
Auren's stomach dipped. "She?"
Lola swallowed. "Lira. His… the Alpha's mate."
The name hung between them like a curse.
Auren glanced at the book again. Its pages pulsed faintly under her thumb like a living thing.
"They said her death was unnatural," Lola went on. "That dark magic was involved. Afterward, the Alpha had every trace of the old texts destroyed. Every room sealed. Every record erased."
Auren stepped toward the desk and slowly set the book down.
"But this one survived."
Lola nodded once. "And now it's found you."
Auren turned to look at her, voice low. "Why would he burn knowledge about his own mate?"
Lola hesitated. "Maybe because the truth inside was worse than forgetting."
Silence fell heavy between them. Auren stared at the torn leather, her fingers itching to open it again—but something in her gut warned her not to. Not yet.
"Don't tell him I have it," she said quietly.
Lola looked at her, eyes wide. "I won't."
And then, almost in a whisper, she added:
"But if that book survived… something else might've too."
Auren turned back to the cover.
The claw marks.
The cursed ink.
The heat that matched his bite.
Whatever this book was, it wasn't just a relic.
It was a key.
To what?
She didn't know yet.
But she was going to find out.