Chapter 43

Isla POV

The night air was cool against my skin, cold evening winds slicing at my skin and whispering through the leaves.

But one thing I loved about the outdoors was the scent.

For example, the breeze here carried the scents of damp grass and blossoming lilies.

During the cold days, it smelled of wet earth and the tangy freshness of flowers.

The garden was stretched before me, half-lit by the shining silver moon.

I walked slowly down the stone path, each step a conscious escape from the suffocating weight of my thoughts.

Tristan’s steady breathing had lulled the house into silence, but I couldn’t rest.

Or sleep.

I told myself I just needed the air….that I only wanted a moment alone to think but I knew better.

I was running.

Not from Tristan, not even from the hard knot of fear in my chest.

I was running from the heat in my veins that flared whenever another name surfaced in my thoughts. A name I had no business whispering or thinking… even to myself.

Keiran.

I clenched my jaw, shaking my head from side to side as if that alone could drive him away.

The oak tree at the far end of the garden waited in the distance like an anchor in the night.

I stopped beneath it, tilting my head up to the moonlight spilling through the leaves.

I tried to calm my racing heart, tried to convince myself I could still control this.

Whatever this was.

But that was not to happen.

Midway through my meditation, I stopped, the scent hitting me before the voice did…dark, sharp, and spicy like the scent of something forbidden.

My pulse stuttered.

“I knew I’d find you out here,” Kieran spoke, emerging from the shadows.

I didn't turn my head to acknowledge him.

At least not yet.

I feared that if I did, I might make an impulsive

decision.

The sound of him wrapped around me like a shawl, low and smooth, carrying an unspoken meaning in every syllable.

My body went still.

But slowly, I turned. “Kieran.”

Kieran hung back in the dark, half visible if only you looked deeply.

His black clothes hugged his lean frame, those broad shoulders and hard jawline calling to me.

He was currently reclining on a tree, his posture casual but the look on his face was anything but.

When my eyes met his, he pushed off from the tree, his movements fluid and predatory.

The moonlight favoured him, highlighting his best features…. especially those stormy grey eyes.

Just the sight of him made my stomach twist on itself.

This man doesn't belong to the serenity of the garden….not when he carries the chaos of a battlefield in his presence.

“You've been avoiding me,” he stated, his tone sharp. “Why?”

I stiffened, willing myself not to fidget. “No, I’m not.”

The corner of his mouth curved….not in a smile but something colder. “Liar.”

My breath caught.

“I rarely see you alone anymore and when you do see me, you pretend not to or hang with someone so I can't come close.” He moved towards me, and my instincts screamed at me to move, but I just stared at him, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I know you felt it,” he went on, his voice deepening, softening into something more dangerous. “That night. The bond, the fire between… You think you can hide it from me? Pretend it didn’t happen? It wasn’t just me, Isla.”

Heat shot through my chest, memories rising in my head.

The brush of his hand against mine, the electric shiver that burned its way into my skin. The way my breath had tangled in my throat when his lips hovered over mine before I tore myself away.

I forced my face into a smile, a neutral mask. “Well then, you’re imagining things.”

But my voice cracked on the last word.

Keiran’s eyes darkened, pinning me where I stood. He stepped forward, the grass bending beneath his boots, and I stumbled back instinctively.

“Am I?” he asked, closing the distance with the slow inevitability of a predator circling prey. “Because every time you run, you only prove me right. If you truly felt nothing, you wouldn’t be shaking so bad with need right now.”

“I’m not-” The denial caught in my throat.

Fuck.

My body betrayed me. My hands trembled at my sides, my heart pounding against my ribs so hard I thought he could hear it.

Keiran’s expression shifted, the arrogance fading into something raw. He stopped just shy of touching me, his presence pressing down on me like a needle against a balloon.

“I want you to be honest with me right now, Isla. The bond you have with Tristan….” he murmured, low and certain. “It's weakening, isn't it? I know you feel it too, don’t you?”

My breath stilled in my lungs.

How does he know?

He shouldn’t know.

No one should know.

But he was right.

I had felt it.

It was subtle at first, like a thread fraying in silence.

The invisible tether between Tristan and me that once pulsed hot and strong had flickered in recent days, thinning and shaking, like a flame starved of air.

I’d told myself it was nothing.

Maybe it was stress.

Exhaustion. But the truth haunted me in the dark: bonds weren’t supposed to falter without cause.

It had never happened before.

I lifted my chin, clinging to defiance even as my voice quivered. “Even if it is… even if something is happening, it doesn’t change what Tristan means to me. He’s my mate.”

“And yet…” Keiran leaned closer, his words brushing against me like hot flames.

His hand lifted, stopping an inch from my face. He didn’t touch, but the air itself seemed to hum between us, a magnetic pull that made my body lean forward even as my mind screamed in protest.

“Your soul is reaching for me, your body wishing me close by,” he whispered. “I can feel it every time you look at me, every time you try to look away.”

I swallowed hard, my lips parting in a soundless protest.

The worst part was that he wasn’t wrong.

Every glance, every accidental brush of contact sent my world spinning. And here, beneath the moonlight, with his voice dancing softly against my skin, I felt the cracks widening in the walls I’d built.

“You’re wrong,” I managed, though the words shook. “You’re not my mate. You never will be.”

Keiran’s gaze sharpened, and for a fleeting second, something like paon flickered across his face before his mask slammed back into place.

Nonchalance.

He dropped his hand, taking a step back though his presence lingered like a brand on my skin.

“Continue lying to yourself, Isla.” His tone was softer now, threaded with something that almost sounded like pity. “Whatever you think you owe Tristan, whatever promises you made… it won’t change the truth. You’re mine, and deep down you know it too.”