Nalia's POV
The storm came out of nowhere.
One moment the sky was a dull gray, the next it cracked open and poured like the gods themselves were angry. I ran from the field with my hoe still in hand, mud sucking at my bare feet, shirt plastered to my skin. Lightning flashed so bright it turned the world white for a heartbeat. Thunder followed right after, shaking the ground. I didn't think; I just ran toward the old barn on the edge of the woods, the only shelter for miles.
The door hung crooked on its hinges. I slipped inside, panting, dripping, heart hammering louder than the rain on the tin roof. Hay smelled damp and sweet. Water dripped from my hair into my eyes. I wiped it away and leaned against a post, trying to calm down.
Then I felt it.
Not heard. Felt.
The air changed. Became heavier, charged, like right before lightning strikes again.
A shadow moved in the far corner.
I froze.
He stepped into the weak light that leaked through the cracks in the wall. Tall. Broader than Aiden. Blond hair darkened by rain, clinging to his forehead. Gray eyes the color of storm clouds. A scar cut through his left eyebrow, white against tanned skin. He wore a soaked traveling cloak, but even through the wet fabric I could see the power in the way he held himself. Not arrogant like some nobles. Quiet. Dangerous.
I knew who he was before he spoke.
Everyone in the kingdom knew the third prince by sight, even peasants who had never left their village.
Prince Caleb Valerian. The silent blade. The one who led the border legions. The Alpha who never smiled in any portrait.
He looked at me for a long time. Not leering. Not smirking. Just… looking. As if he was trying to solve a puzzle written on my skin.
"You're Nalia," he said at last. His voice was low, rough from disuse, like gravel under boots.
I swallowed. My throat felt full of sand. "Yes, my lord."
Another flash of lightning lit the barn. For a second his face was all sharp angles and shadows, and I saw something raw flicker across it. Hunger, yes… but also pain. Confusion. Like he looked almost lost.
"I rode three days without stopping," he said. "Didn't know why. Just… followed a feeling. A pull." He took one step closer. Rain dripped from his cloak onto the hay. "Turns out the feeling has a name."
My back pressed against the wooden post. I had nowhere to go. The storm roared outside, wind howling through every crack, but inside the barn it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of us.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he added quietly, as if he could hear my heart trying to punch its way out of my chest. "I just… needed to see if you were real."
Real.
The word hung between us.
I found my voice somehow. "Why me?"
He shook his head slowly. Water flew from the ends of his hair. "I don't know yet." A bitter half-laugh escaped him. "I've marched into burning cities to the ground and never felt my hands shake. One breath of your scent on the wind and I forgot how to sleep."
He took another step. Close enough now that I could smell him, rain, steel, horse, and something darker, like pine needles crushed under armor. My knees wanted to buckle. Not from fear. From the same pull he was talking about. It lived under my skin now, humming, answering his nearness.
"I heard Aiden was here last night," he said. There was no accusation in it. Just fact. Tired fact.
I nodded once.
Caleb's jaw tightened. "He marked you?"
Not a full bond mark, but the bite on my shoulder still throbbed. I didn't answer. Didn't have to. He saw the truth in my eyes.
Something dark and lonely passed over his face. He looked away, toward the open doorway where rain fell in silver sheets. "Of course he comes first," he muttered, almost to himself. "He always comes first."
Thunder rolled again, long and low.
When he looked back at me, his gray eyes were steady, but his voice cracked just a little. "I won't force you. I'm not Blake. I'm not… good with words or pretty promises. But I need you to know, whatever this is inside me, it's louder than duty. Louder than the crown. Louder than my own name right now."
He reached out, slow, giving me every chance to move away, and brushed a wet strand of hair from my forehead with the way someone might touch a sacred thing they're afraid will vanish.
The touch burned gentle.
"I'll go if you tell me to," he said. "Just say the word."
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Because I didn't want him to go.
I didn't understand it. Aiden's scent still lingered on my skin like a brand, and yet this man, this scarred, quiet warrior, was pulling at something even deeper. It terrified me. It thrilled me.
Lightning flashed again. In that white heartbeat I saw his face clearly, raw, unguarded, asking without begging.
I took one small step toward him instead of away.
His breath hitched. The mightiest Alpha on the border legions, and his breath hitched because a muddy peasant Omega stepped closer.
Outside, the storm raged harder. Inside, something just as wild began.
He didn't kiss me. Not yet. He simply rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed, both of us shaking, rain drumming on the roof like war drums.
"I don't know what you are," he whispered against my skin, "but you're going to destroy us all… and I think I'll let you."
And then, from the darkness beyond the barn door, a new set of footsteps, slow, deliberate, splashing through the mud.
A third shadow appeared in the lightning's glare.
Someone else had followed the scent through the storm.