91 – Shadows and Steam

91 – Shadows and Steam
Kael POV

Kael sat at his desk in his bedroom, papers scattered in a mess that would have driven Elias to madness if he were here. Letters, maps with circles, notes scribbled—none of it brought clarity. He rubbed a hand over his face. His skin healed thanks to Fenric’s relentless pushing, but beneath the surface, the damage lingered.

His wolf paced endlessly, demanding he rise, fight, heal faster. You should not be sitting here like some old scholar, Fenric snarled. We need to be moving. Training. Hunting.

“We can’t hunt ghosts,” Kael muttered aloud, pushing a letter aside.

Fenric growled, restless, but Kael forced his focus back to the papers. The rogues hadn’t ambushed them by accident. Someone had tipped them off. That much was clear.

Dorian had taken it upon himself to lead the investigation. The strategist had a sharp mind for uncovering hidden movements, and if anyone could untangle the threads, Kael knew it would be him. But still, doubt gnawed at him.

Elias, Finn, Theron, and Ryker had been working together more often than Kael had thought possible. It was… strange still, to see Nightclaw and Moonfang soldiers sitting at the same table.

Reports were passed back and forth, suspicions weighed, strategies drawn. Ryker had leaned on Finn’s keen eye for patrols and Elias’s talent for reading men, while Theron—ever the hard-edged Alpha—kept pushing for answers that would satisfy his pride as much as his people’s security.

“Dorian’s confident,” Elias had told him two nights ago. “He says the pattern doesn’t lie. Someone fed them the timing of your patrol, Kael. Someone close enough to know your movements.”

Kael’s jaw clenched at the memory. That was the truth of it—this betrayal hadn’t been born of chance. It was someone near. Someone trusted.

And Kael hated nothing more than shadows he couldn’t strike.

He pushed back from the desk, wincing as the half-mended flesh pulled. He hated this weakness, hated the way it reminded him that he hadn’t been fast enough, sharp enough. Fenric snarled again, a steady reminder that his wolf refused to be bound by wounds.

You should already be whole. Let me finish it.

“You’re already pushing harder than my body can manage,” Kael muttered under his breath.

Kael shut his eyes and leaned back, exhaling slowly. The candles on the desk burned low, their wax pooling. Maps blurred before him, names written in Elias’s handwriting. Every circle around a potential traitor bled into the next.

A knock sounded at the door. Kael didn’t answer. He wasn’t in the mood for another report, another update that told him nothing he didn’t already know.

But the door opened anyway.

Her scent reached him first... soft warmth threaded with something uniquely hers that curled deep in his lungs and steadied the restless beat of his heart. Aria stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind her.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” she said, her voice carrying both gentleness and steel.

“I am resting,” Kael lied, gesturing vaguely at the desk piled with evidence of his unrest.

Her lips curved faintly, though the shadow in her eyes betrayed her worry. She crossed the room without hesitation, her hand brushing over the back of his chair as she leaned in to look at the maps. “Still chasing shadows?”

He tilted his head to glance up at her. The way her fire-red hair caught the candlelight made his chest tighten in ways that no wound ever could. “That’s all we have right now. Shadows and whispers.”

“And you’re bleeding yourself dry chasing them.”

He almost smirked. “That’s dramatic, even for you.”

Her gaze sharpened, and before he could say more, she bent and pressed her lips to his. Soft and careful.

Fenric stilled instantly, the restless pacing in Kael’s mind ceasing as though her kiss had commanded even his wolf to silence.

Kael caught her wrist before she could pull away. “That’s not nearly enough.”

This time when her mouth met his, he kissed her back fully—slow but firm, tasting the lingering sweetness of her. His free hand slid along her jaw, anchoring her closer. Her lips parted under his, and the flicker of heat between them sparked into something deeper.

She pulled back only when his breath grew ragged. “Careful,” she whispered. “You’re still healing.”

Kael’s smile was wicked despite the ache in his side. “Then kiss me until I forget.”

Her laugh was soft. She brushed her thumb over his cheek, studying him like she was memorizing every line. Then, with a small shake of her head, she said, “You’re impossible.”

“Persistent,” he corrected, leaning forward until his lips grazed her neck. “And you like it.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she straightened, slipping her hand into his. “Come on.”

He arched a brow. “Where are we going?”

“To keep you from burying yourself in these maps until you collapse again,” she said. “Let’s draw a bath. Hot water, steam, space to breathe.”

Kael let her tug him to his feet. Fenric rumbled his approval deep inside.

She knows what we need. Listen to her.

Kael snorted under his breath. “Even you’re siding with her now?”

Always

Aria glanced back at him with a questioning look, but he only shook his head and allowed her to lead him toward the ensuite where a deep tub sat ready. Steam curled into the air.

“You planned this,” Kael accused lightly.

Her grin was sly. “Maybe I begged a maid to have it ready in case you actually listened to me for once.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “Clever woman.”

As she turned to adjust the water, Kael stepped closer, his hands settling on her waist. She stilled, her breath catching as he bent to murmur against her ear. “You draw me a bath, kiss me like that, and expect me to think of rest?”

Her flush deepened, but her voice was steady. “I expect you to heal. Anything else is a bonus.”

Kael laughed softly, then tugged her against him despite the ache. “Then let me collect my bonus first.”

Her answer came not in words but in the way she tilted her head back, giving him her mouth again. The kiss deepened quickly, heat unfurling as her hands fisted in his tunic.

When they finally broke apart, her lips were flushed, her breathing uneven. She pushed lightly at his chest. “Bath first. Then… whatever you’re plotting.”

Kael’s grin was all teeth. “Deal.”

Kael’s hands warmed despite the cold ache in his ribs, one flat against her back, the other cupping the nape of her neck as if to replay the pulse beneath her skin. He kissed the corner of her mouth, then the line of her jaw, tasting the salt of her skin.

“You play a dangerous game, Aria,” he murmured, voice rough with the memory of hunger.

Her fingers traced a lazy path along his chest, tracing the stubborn knot of tension there, then slid lower to press against the hollow of his ribs where his bruises slept. He shifted, testing the limits of his healing, and found her lips again, hungry, not hurried, a heat he could trust.