Chapter 37 Thirty seven
For a brief, suspended moment after Kai’s lips touched hers, Harper felt as though the world had narrowed into a single point of warmth.
The soft press of his mouth against hers was not forceful, not demanding. It was certain. Confident. The kind of kiss given by someone who expected to be accepted.
Her eyes remained wide open at first, shock flooding her system. She could see the faint shadow of his lashes, feel the warmth of his breath, the subtle firmness of his hand braced against the floor beside her. Somewhere behind them, the television screen flickered and flashed with the end-of-game animation, but the sound felt distant, irrelevant.
Then reality crashed back in.
She pushed him away abruptly.
Kai rocked back on his heels, catching himself with ease. He didn’t look offended. If anything, he looked mildly amused—and intensely observant.
Harper stared at him as if he had just done something incomprehensible. Her fingers trembled slightly as she drew them back from where they had pressed against his chest.
“What was that?” she demanded, her voice low but unsteady.
Kai tilted his head slightly, studying her reaction with an expression that was far too calm for someone who had just crossed such a boundary.
“A reward,” he replied lightly.
Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. The tingling sensation on her lips only made it worse. She could still feel him there, as if the contact had branded her skin.
“That wasn’t funny,” she said, forcing steadiness into her tone.
“I wasn’t joking this time.”
That made her breath catch.
The playful air that had filled the room earlier was gone now. What lingered instead was something heavier, charged with a tension that neither of them seemed entirely prepared to confront.
Harper pushed herself to her feet and took several steps away from him, needing distance. The large room suddenly felt too small. Too warm.
“You don’t get to just do that,” she said quietly.
Kai rose as well, slower this time. His expression had changed. The teasing grin was gone, replaced by something far more thoughtful.
“I wanted to,” he said simply.
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
He watched her closely, as though trying to decipher something in her face. “You didn’t hate it.”
The statement unsettled her more than the kiss itself.
She opened her mouth to argue but found no immediate words. She hadn’t hated it. That was the problem.
She had been shocked.
Unprepared.
But beneath that initial shock had been something else—something warmer, more confusing.
“That’s not the point,” she said finally.
“Then what is?”
She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “The point is that everything is already complicated. Tomorrow is the Bloom Moon ceremony. Everyone is expecting fate to reveal something. And you—” she gestured toward him sharply, “—decide to do this?”
Kai leaned back slightly against the edge of his desk, folding his arms. His gaze softened, though the intensity remained.
“You think I kissed you because of tomorrow?”
“I don’t know why you did it.”
“I did it because I wanted to,” he repeated, more quietly this time. “Not because of the ceremony. Not because of fate.”
His voice had lost its playful edge entirely.
Harper swallowed.
The room seemed to hum with unspoken questions. Outside the large windows, the night was still and dark. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear faint movement in the house as final preparations continued for the ceremony.
And beneath it all, a heavier thought lingered.
Koda.
The image of him chained underground rose unbidden in her mind. His voice asking her if she ever felt it too. If she ever wondered whether they were bound by something deeper than coincidence.
The Bloom Moon would reveal mates.
That was its purpose.
And if Koda had been right—
Her chest tightened painfully.
“You’re thinking about him,” Kai said quietly.
The observation was not accusatory. It was perceptive.
Harper stiffened. “That’s none of your business.”
“It is if it affects you.”
She turned away from him, walking toward the window. The moonlight spilled faintly across the floor, silver against dark wood.
“You don’t understand,” she murmured.
“Then explain.”
She didn’t answer.
How could she explain the knot of guilt twisting inside her? The fact that Koda was imprisoned beneath this very house while they stood here arguing about a kiss? The fact that tomorrow might confirm something he had desperately wanted to know?
Kai approached her slowly, stopping a few feet away.
“You don’t owe fate anything,” he said. “And you don’t owe anyone certainty before you’re ready.”
She glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.
“You make it sound simple.”
“It can be,” he replied. “If you stop letting everyone else decide what your feelings should be.”
Her gaze dropped briefly.
Feelings.
That word alone felt dangerous.
Kai sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking you for anything tonight.”
“Then why did you kiss me?”
He hesitated, just slightly. “Because when you smiled earlier… when you won that game… I wanted to.”
The honesty in that answer unsettled her more than teasing would have.
Silence stretched between them again, thick and fragile.
Finally, Harper stepped back toward the door.
“I should go,” she said quietly.
Kai did not try to stop her.
As she reached the door and placed her hand on the handle, his voice came again—calm but firm.
“Whatever happens tomorrow,” he said, “don’t let fear choose for you.”
She paused.
For a moment, she almost turned back.
But she didn’t.
She slipped into the hallway and closed the door behind her.
The corridor was dim and quiet, lit only by soft wall lamps casting faint golden pools of light. Her footsteps echoed softly as she made her way back to her own room.
Her mind was anything but quiet.
She locked her door once more and leaned against it, staring into the darkness of her room.
Slowly, almost unconsciously, her fingers rose to brush against her lips.
They still felt warm.
The kiss had ignited something—something subtle but undeniable. Not overpowering. Not consuming.
But present.
And beneath that warmth lingered something colder.
Iron bars.
A cage.
The memory of Koda’s gaze.
Tomorrow night, beneath the Bloom Moon, fate would reveal its answer.
Harper closed her eyes.
For the first time, she wasn’t sure which possibility frightened her more.
Far beneath the brightly lit halls of the Alpha house—beneath the laughter, the flowers, the anticipation of the Bloom Moon—there was only darkness.
The dungeon walls were carved from ancient stone, damp with years of silence and secrets. Torches flickered weakly along the corridor, casting long, restless shadows that trembled against the iron bars.
At the center of the underground chamber stood a raised platform.
And chained to it—
Koda.
His head hung forward, dark hair shadowing his face. Heavy iron restraints wrapped around his wrists and ankles, fastened to the stone with thick links forged generations ago. The chains were not ordinary. They had been crafted to restrain something monstrous. Something other than wolf.
For days, he had barely moved.
But tonight—
Tonight something inside him shifted.
A low groan escaped his throat, raw and strained. His fingers curled slowly around the cold metal binding his wrists.
“Get me out of here!” he roared, his voice echoing violently off the stone walls.
The chains rattled.
Dust shook loose from the ceiling.
His breathing grew heavier, uneven, as something beneath his skin began to stir. His muscles tightened, veins darkening faintly under the surface. A surge of power pulsed outward from him, sudden and volatile.
The chains strained.
Cracked.
With a deafening snap, one of the iron links shattered.
Koda inhaled sharply.
The restraints had been made to cage a demon.
But he was not a demon.
He was a wolf.
And wolves were not meant to kneel.
With another furious pull, the remaining chains splintered apart. Metal clanged violently against the stone floor as the last restraint broke free.
He stepped down from the platform slowly, shoulders rolling as if reacquainting himself with movement. The air felt different without iron pressing into his skin.
He flexed his hands once.
Freedom.
A low, chilling laugh suddenly echoed through the chamber.
It did not belong to him.
The sound curled around his ears, distant yet intimate.
Koda stiffened, his jaw tightening.
“Still watching?” he muttered darkly.
The laugh faded, leaving behind a lingering whisper in the air that made the torches flicker violently.
Footsteps thundered down the dungeon corridor.
Guards.
Several of them burst into the chamber, weapons drawn, their eyes widening at the sight of shattered chains scattered across the floor.
“He broke free!”
“Don’t let him escape!”
They advanced cautiously, forming a half-circle around him.
Koda did not move.
His head remained slightly lowered, his breathing now eerily calm.
More footsteps echoed behind the guards.
Slower.
Measured.
The Alpha entered the chamber.
The air shifted immediately.
Authority radiated from him like a tangible force. His expression was stern, unreadable, but there was something else beneath it—something guarded.
The guards tightened their grips on their weapons.
“Stand down,” one of them muttered nervously.
“Don’t let him escape!” another repeated, taking a step forward.
“Wait.”
The Alpha’s voice cut cleanly through the chaos.
The single word carried command.
Every guard froze instantly.
Silence fell heavy across the dungeon.
The Alpha walked forward slowly, his boots echoing against the stone. His gaze remained fixed on the figure standing amidst broken chains.
“Koda,” he called.
The name lingered in the air.
For a long moment, there was no response.
Then—
Koda lifted his head.
The shadows fell away from his face.
His eyes were no longer wild.
No longer darkened.
They were clear.
Golden.
Controlled.
The guards shifted uneasily.
The Alpha stopped only a few feet away from him.
“Koda,” he repeated, quieter now.
A faint smirk curved at the corner of Koda’s mouth.
His voice, when he spoke, was steady.
“I’m back, Dad.”