Chapter 7: The Pull

Morning broke slow and quiet, spilling soft gold through the trees. Smoke still drifted from the cold remains of the fire they’d made hours before.

Kael sat across the dying embers, legs crossed, blade across his lap. He hadn’t slept.

Not really.

How could he, with Auron pacing behind his eyes like a caged beast?

She’s ours.

Auron’s voice was calm, but unrelenting.

You saw it. You felt it. What are you waiting for?

For her to run, Kael thought bitterly.

Then claim her before she does. Seal the bond. Mark her. Make it final.

And what? Trap her with a life she didn’t choose? Sound familiar?

Auron growled in frustration but backed off—for now.

Across from him, Seraphine shifted beneath the borrowed cloak. Her hair was tangled. Her face was blank. Her flames had quieted overnight, but he could still feel them in the air—flickering beneath her skin like barely-tamed lightning.

She hadn’t spoken since they woke.

That should’ve made things easier.

It didn’t.

Because Nyra was loud.

He’s right there. Right. There. Just bite him already.

No.

You’re literally glowing. You smell like need. I swear if you don’t—

I will drown you in the nearest creek, Nyra.

Seraphine rolled her shoulders and stood, pacing to the stream. She splashed cold water on her face—like that would do anything to smother the heat that had been curling in her gut since the fight.

She could still feel the echo of him.

The tether between them hadn’t faded overnight.

It had gotten worse.

Tighter. Hungrier.

Her wolf howled again.

He smells like frost and power and home. What else do you want?!

I don’t want this, she snapped internally.

I didn’t ask for it.

Neither did he. Doesn’t change what we are.

She turned back toward Kael.

He was watching her.

He hadn’t stopped.

The silence between them was unbearable.

Then, quietly—too quietly—he said, “Auron wants to mark you.”

Seraphine’s breath caught.

“Nyra,” she said hoarsely, “wants to set you on fire and then make out with your ashes.”

A beat of silence.

Kael let out a single huff of dry laughter.

“Well,” he said, “at least they agree on the ‘claiming’ part.”

Seraphine sat down across from him again, not too close, not far enough.

“We’re not doing that,” she said. “Not now. Maybe not ever.”

Kael nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

Their wolves howled in twin protest.

I’m not ready for this,” Seraphine said.

She didn’t shout it. Didn’t spit it like a warning.

She whispered it. Like a confession to herself.

Kael sat across from her, elbows resting on his knees, his silver-and-ice eyes fixed on the ash in the fire pit.

“I know,” he said.

Their wolves paced restlessly behind their eyes—Nyra and Auron both practically vibrating with need, magic, instinct. Every time they looked at each other, it felt like pressure building in the air. Like lightning waiting for a strike.

Seraphine was only eighteen. She’d never even kissed someone without thinking about whether she could burn them. Her virginity wasn’t something she clung to for purity or pride—it was just… untouched. Untested. A door she’d never dared to open.

The mate bond had kicked it wide open and demanded she run through it screaming.

And she hated how badly some part of her wanted to.

“What happens if we don’t seal it?” she asked, her voice thin.

Kael was quiet for a moment. Then:

“In time, it weakens. You can learn to ignore it.”

“But not break it?”

“No,” he said. “It’ll always be there. You’ll always… feel me.”

Seraphine shivered, though the fire hadn’t gone out.

Her hand drifted unconsciously to her side. A shallow graze from one of the attackers last night. She thought she’d burned it clean, but it still ached. The skin around it looked darker this morning—almost… bruised.

Nyra stirred uneasily.

Something’s wrong with that wound.

I’m fine, Seraphine lied to them both.

Kael turned his head slightly. “You’re pale.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Very helpful.”

He reached out, brushing his fingers gently over her temple. She didn’t pull away. Too tired. Too heavy.

The world spun slightly.

“Seraphine?” he said.

She tried to answer.

But the fire inside her… flickered.

And then everything went dark.

She wasn’t in the forest anymore.

She was in a place made of firelight and moonshine—her skin warm, her breath steady. She stood barefoot on scorched stone, surrounded by golden embers dancing through the air like stars.

And Kael was there.

Not distant. Not guarded. Just… there.

He reached for her, and she didn’t pull away.

He touched her face like it mattered. Like she mattered.

There was no pain here. No blood. No past.

Just the pull.

The mate bond surged between them like gravity. Like heat drawn to cold. She felt herself leaning into him—not because of the magic, but because every part of her wanted to.

“I’m yours,” she heard herself whisper.

Kael’s hands slid down her back, pulling her in gently, reverently.

“You always were,” he said.

His mouth found hers—and this kiss wasn’t chaste.

It was starved.

It burned through her core, igniting things she’d never dared imagine. When his lips trailed down her neck, her skin lit beneath his touch. Not with magic.

With need.

His hands moved lower. Her cloak dropped to the floor. Her body didn’t feel like a battlefield anymore.

It felt like home.

He pressed her back onto warm sheets of ash and silk, and as he kissed her again—

Kael jerked upright from beside her body as her flames suddenly roared to life, blazing around her unconscious form.

“Seraphine!”

She didn’t wake.

Not yet.

But her body glowed faintly gold.

And something inside her—something poisoned—was starting to fight its way to the surface.