The air shifted before the man appeared.
Aurora had just managed to pull herself to her feet, every muscle tight from whatever that last surge of whatever it was had done to her. The warmth that had wrapped around her was gone now, but the tingling in her skin hadn't faded. Her skin still buzzed from the memory of being touched.
The space around her had changed. It was not a glowing forest floor anymore. She was now standing in a large space. Black stone walls rose to a domed ceiling, lit by veins of molten bright red light that pulsed dimly. There were no torches. No sun. Just a constant throb of warmth and shadow.
And silence.
Until it wasn't silent anymore.
She felt him before she saw him.
Something lingered at the far end of the chamber. The shadows themselves bent inward. From them stepped a man — tall, bare-chested, and watching her.
Her breath caught.
He didn't speak.
He didn't have to.
He hadn't touched her, but she could feel him. A warmth that hovered, constant and close. His presence had the kind of weight that said he didn't need to raise his voice to command a room. Or a woman.
She took a step back.
He took one forward.
His eyes were wrong but not in a monstrous way — they were beautiful. Too sharp, too bright. Gold, but not like Kade's wolf-gold. These eyes burned.
She tried to look away and couldn't.
His skin was pale, but not lifeless. It shimmered softly beneath the red light, as if there was something old underneath it. His dark hair framed his face in sharp contrast. No crown. No armor. Just loose black pants, boots, a presence that didn't need armor, and power.
Real power.
The kind you didn't challenge.
The kind that didn't ask for permission.
"You," she whispered, throat dry.
His head tilted slightly. "You came through."
She didn't answer.
Her instincts screamed to run. She wanted to, but her feet stayed rooted.
"Do you know where you are?" he asked.
She managed a shake of her head. "No."
"Do you know what I am?"
Still no answer.
He smiled faintly — not cruel, not kind. Just… knowing.
"You crossed into a place where the rules aren't the same. Your wolf won't help you here."
Aurora blinked. "You…how do you know?"
"I felt her," he said simply. "Before I ever saw you."
He was closer now.
She hadn't seen him move.
Her back met the wall behind her. Warm stone. No way out.
He didn't touch her.
He didn't touch her. Just stood close — and she caught a scent: smoke, leather… and something older. Her wolf didn't recoil. She just paced, low and restless.
"I didn't mean to come here," Aurora said. "It pulled me in."
"You bled for it," he said. "That's how the realm opened."
She swallowed hard.
He raised one hand slowly and brushed his fingers near her shoulder. Not quite touching.
But her skin reacted anyway. Goosebumps everywhere.
"Why?" she asked. "Why did you pull me here?"
He didn't look away.
"When he rejected you," the man said, "you broke. Something old heard it. So did I."
She stared at him. "That was you?"
The barest nod. "I made sure you heard."
She wasn't breathing properly. Too fast. Too shallow.
"What do you want from me?"
His eyes burned brighter for a second.
"Everything."
Her pulse skipped. "You can't just claim—"
"I already did."
"You don't even know me."
"I don't have to."
A pause.
"You felt it too," he said.
She hated that he was right.
The ache in her chest, the heat between her thighs, the way her wolf had gone quiet but not afraid, whatever was happening to her body wasn't nothing.
He stepped even closer.
Now there was no space left.
Aurora's hands balled into fists at her sides.
He was close, perhaps too close, and still he hadn't touched her. But his presence was touch enough. His voice, his breath, and the weight of his gaze all pressed in, curling under her skin.
She could still feel the ache. But her mind was too loud to let it take over.
"You don't get to say I'm yours," she said, her voice sharper now. "You don't know anything about me."
His head tilted slightly, and the smallest smile touched his lips.
"I know you were betrayed," he said. "I know you cried out in the woods."
She flinched, but held her ground.
"I didn't cry for you," she said. "I cried because he rejected me. That doesn't make me yours."
"No," he agreed. "But stepping into my realm does."
Her heart kicked against her chest.
"You think that gives you a right to me?" she snapped. "You think claiming me makes it real?"
"I didn't make it real," he said. "It already was."
She tried to back up, forgetting there was nowhere left to go. The wall stayed solid behind her, warm.
He didn't move forward. Didn't press.
"You could've left me there," she said. "Let me run. Let me break."
"I could have."
"But you didn't."
"I didn't. And, I don't take what's not already mine."
Her mouth opened, but no words came. Something about the way he said it was like it wasn't even up for debate. And that unsettled her more than shouting ever could.
"What are you?" she asked.
"I could show you," he said, "but you wouldn't sleep again."
She hated the way her stomach clenched at that.
Not in fear.
In anticipation.
"I'm not scared of you," she said.
"You should be. At least for now"
But there was no threat in his tone.
No edge.
Just certainty.
And still, he hadn't laid a hand on her.
It made her more pissed. That fact tht he could stir her and confuse her without touching, or even raising his voice.
"I'm not some prize," she said. "Some broken thing you get to scoop up and claim."
"I know."
"Then stop saying I'm yours."
"You'll stop fighting it eventually."
The air between them grew thick.
She could feel her wolf pacing.
"You don't get to decide for me," she said, softer now. "I don't care what this place is. What kind of magic it has. I still belong to myself."
For the first time, his expression changed.
A flicker of something — not surprise, but interest. Like he hadn't expected her to push this hard, this soon.
He stepped back.
Just one step.
"I don't want a pet, Aurora."
She startled at her name.
"You've been listening," she said.
"I listen to what matters."
That heat started crawling up her spine again.
This time, she didn't fight it.
"But I don't want to own you," he added. "I want something far more."
Her voice was barely a whisper. "What?"
His gaze dropped just briefly to her collarbone.
He looked up again.
"To be your choice. That's what I want."
The words hit harder than they should have.
She didn't answer.
He didn't wait for one.
"I won't force anything," he said. "You'll come to me on your own."
"I wouldn't count on that."
Another small smile. "Then we'll see."
With that, he turned and walked away.
Aurora stood still long after he disappeared into the shadows, her chest rising and falling. Her body hadn't moved, but something inside her had.
Silence returned. But it felt different now — charged.
She pushed off the wall slowly and took a step forward. Her legs were steady, but her insides were a mess. There were too many questions and not enough answers.
The floor beneath her feet pulsed faintly, though it wasn't enough to really call it movement. Just the suggestion of something deeper.
She turned in a slow circle, scanning the walls again. They looked solid — dark stone with glowing veins — but one section ahead looked different.
The wall just to the left shimmered faintly. Barely noticeable. No cracks. No light source. But it called to her.
She didn't remember deciding to walk toward it.
She just did.
Each step was careful, her breath tight in her chest, like any wrong move might trigger something. But nothing jumped out. No traps. No tricks.
Just the pull.
She reached the section of wall. Up close, it wasn't just shimmering — it was humming. A low vibration in the stone. Her fingers hovered near it but didn't touch. Not yet.
She leaned in slightly, and the wall changed.
Just for a second.
A flicker.
A flash of memory.
Her eyes widened as the shimmer bloomed into a swirl of images. Not clear, not sharp — but enough to make her heart stutter.
There was a woman.
Naked. Kneeling.
Long hair, almost the same color as hers.
Her arms were marked with black and red symbols running from wrist to shoulder. Not tattoos. Not paint. These marks moved.
Behind her stood a figure in shadow. Broad shoulders. Bare torso. Familiar eyes.
Lucien.
The image snapped away before she could take in more. The wall went still. Cold again.
Aurora stepped back, stunned.
What did I just see?
That woman… she looked like her. Not exactly, but enough. The shape. The stance. The bond.
It wasn't just the image that shook her.
It was the way her body had responded. Like she'd known that memory. Felt it in her bones.
She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow her breathing.
That voice in her mind came again. Low. Smooth. Steady.
"You feel it now, don't you?"
She spun, expecting to see him. Nothing. Just stone and shadow.
But the pull didn't fade.
"You were never just passing through."
She backed away from the wall.
"You were always meant to find your way here."
Her breath hitched.
"And now that you have, everything's already falling into place."
The voice faded.
Aurora moved away gently, her feet carrying her to a large, elevated platform in the center of the chamber. She slid herself to the edge, elbows on knees, gaze fixed on the wall.
What had she walked into?
More importantly, what was walking into her?
Once more, the air felt different. It felt very expectant now.