Catacomb's

Kayden - POV

The catacombs loomed ahead, cold and foreboding, with shadows stretching endlessly into the night. Midnight was long past, and the sharp sound of footsteps from the security guards echoed faintly. Their presence was a problem, but Stella’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Leave it to me,” she said, flashing a confident smile.

Damon’s face lit up, pride flickering in his eyes. He loved watching Stella take charge. I understood why; even I felt a pang of admiration seeing her in action. But tonight, it was sharper—almost overwhelming—and before I could process it, my attention was drawn to Heather. Her gaze flicked toward me, laced with something raw—jealousy, maybe? Insecurity? She quickly masked it, her expression slipping into the composed indifference she wore so well.

Stella stepped forward, her magic sparking to life in her hands. Within moments, the guards slumped to the ground, unconscious, while the cameras buzzed and distorted under her spell. Damon moved next, deftly unlocking the gate to the catacombs. With a soft click, the door swung open, and we slipped into the damp, suffocating silence of the underground.

The air was heavy, almost oppressive, as we began searching for the symbol—a sign described in the ancient book. The instructions had been vague, but we knew it was here, hidden among the carvings and relics of the past. Splitting up, we fanned out into the darkness.

Minutes stretched into eternity before Heather’s voice broke through the stillness. “I found it!”

We rushed to her side, and there it was—a symbol carved into the wall, glowing faintly with magic. It depicted an engulfing wolf, its jaws open wide as it devoured its own tail. The magic pulsing from it was tangible, like a heartbeat in the air.

“Wait… I can’t see it,” Stella said, frowning as she leaned closer.

Heather’s response was calm but tinged with an edge I couldn’t quite place. “It’s because you’re half-human, half-wolf. The magic wards it from human eyes.”

“Oh,” Stella murmured, her shoulders stiffening slightly.

“Well, I can’t make it out clearly either,” Damon said, his brow furrowed. “I can sense the magic, sure, but that’s it.”

“Strange,” Heather muttered, her fingers hovering near the glowing symbol.

I pulled out my phone, scanning the faint writing beside the carving. The text was small, almost invisible, but with a few adjustments, I managed to read it: This symbol is visible only to the power of Xael and the Alpha Raven’s child.

My gaze shifted to Heather. My chest tightened. Could she really be connected to the Raven bloodline? Did she even know?

“Heather,” I said carefully, “what do you see?”

Her eyes lingered on the carving before she answered. “The engulfing wolf. It’s exactly like the tattoo on your arm.”

Her answer hit me hard. Too precise. Too perfectly aligned with the truth I was beginning to suspect.

“Well? What’s next?” Damon asked impatiently, his irritation breaking the moment.

I turned my attention back to the text. “It says there’s a letter nearby. It’s the next clue.”

“A treasure hunt now?” Damon growled, running a hand through his hair.

“Relax,” Stella said lightly. “Whoever left this probably wanted to make sure it was well-hidden. Can’t blame them for being cautious.”

“Fine,” Damon muttered. “Let’s head back to the hotel and figure out what this letter says. In the morning.”

I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere. What if Heather really was a Raven? What if she didn’t know? The questions swirled in my head like a storm. Back in the room, I sent a message to Harris, instructing him to run tests on Heather’s energy to confirm her connection to Raven magic. I made it clear he had to keep it quiet—no one could know, not yet.

“You want to open the letter now?” Heather’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I should confront her. I couldn’t for some reason.

I looked up, meeting her gaze. Her green eyes searched mine, steady yet curious.

“Morning,” I said calmly, forcing the storm inside me to quiet.

She nodded, her movements so subtle yet deliberate that my breath hitched. Her walk, the sway of her hips, was effortlessly seductive, her ass perfectly hugged by the tight fabric of her pants. What the hell was wrong with me? Every time she was near, my control slipped, my thoughts strayed to places they shouldn’t. It was maddening, the pull of her, the way she consumed my senses.

This was the mate haze. It had to be. That raw, unrelenting ache that clawed at my resolve. I could feel it getting stronger, tugging at the edges of my control like a rising tide. And yet, it didn’t make sense—it wasn’t supposed to be possible. My jaw clenched as I forced myself to turn away and retreat into the bathroom.

The sound of footsteps made me pause, and when I turned, Heather stood in the doorway.

“What is wrong?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a hint of worry as she stepped closer.

I exhaled, trying to clear my head. “Why did you ask me if we’d met before?”

Heather’s expression tightened, her brows knitting in uncertainty. “Do you recall anything?” she asked, her voice quieter now, her eyes searching mine.

“No,” I admitted, though the word felt hollow. My gaze betrayed me, slipping downward against my will. The edge of her shirt had ridden up, revealing smooth skin and the delicate lace of her red bra. My breath hitched, and my eyes drifted lower, tracing the curve of her heavy breasts. Damn it, why was I so powerless when it came to her?

I forced my gaze back to her face, but it didn’t help. Her green eyes held me captive, flecks of reddish hue swirling within them like embers of forbidden magic. My stomach tightened. A sign of the dark realm, my instincts warned me. I should’ve stepped back, should’ve remembered the danger she represented.

But I didn’t care.

The tension between us was suffocating, a silence so heavy it became almost breathable. My chest rose and fell, every breath tightening the leash I had on my restraint until it snapped entirely.

Before I could think, I reached for her, pulling her toward me. Her gasp was soft, her lips parting in surprise, and the suddenness of her movement melted into the fluid warmth of her body against mine.

Her lips were softer than I imagined, sweeter than anything I’d ever tasted. I devoured her, the kiss desperate, filled with the hunger

I’d been holding back for far too long. The world faded away—the only thing that mattered was the taste of her, the feel of her trembling in my arms.

“Kayden…” she moaned, her voice breathless and filled with something that shattered every ounce of logic in my mind.

My hands moved on their own, gripping her waist, sliding beneath her shirt, desperate to feel the heat of her skin. Her scent, her taste, the soft gasps escaping her lips—it was intoxicating, a drug I never wanted to quit.

Her fingers slipped under my shirt, trailing fire against my stomach as she whispered, “Aren’t we supposed… to talk?”

“Fuck talking,” I growled, my voice rough and edged with need.

“Then take me,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, but the consent in her words was enough to break the last barrier of my restraint.

I swept her into my arms, carrying her into the shower as my lips claimed hers again. The cold water cascaded over us, the shock of it mixing with the heat of her body against mine, steam rising around us as our barriers—both physical and emotional—fell away.

My hands slid down her curves, gripping her thighs as I pressed her against the cold tile. Her breath hitched, her soft cries filling the small space as my mouth trailed down her neck, tasting the salt of her skin.

When my hand slipped between her thighs, her gasp turned into a moan, her body arching toward me as though it craved my touch.

My lips found hers again, devouring her as my fingers teased the wet heat between her legs.

“Why does it feel so good?” she whimpered, her voice trembling as if she were under some kind of spell.

My voice was tight with the jealousy surging through me. “Did your first mate ever make you feel this alive?”

Her answer came quickly, her voice cracking with raw honesty. “No…”

The single word sent a possessive growl rumbling through me. My lips found her breast, teasing the hardened peak as my fingers worked her slick folds. Her moans grew louder, her hands tangling in my hair as she trembled against me, her legs barely able to hold her weight.

“Do you need me?” I asked, my voice low, rough, as I pressed my mouth to her inner thigh, waiting for her to answer.

“I need you,” she whispered, her emerald eyes locking onto mine with a hunger that mirrored my own.

That was all it took to send me over the edge. My mouth found her center, tasting her, devouring her, as her cries echoed around us. Her hands gripped my hair, her body trembling as she unraveled under my touch, and when she came, the sound of her pleasure broke something inside me.I needed more of her.

I carried her out of the shower, dripping wet, and laid her on the bed. Her flushed skin glistened in the soft light, and her eyes were hazy with desire as she looked up at me.

“I’m not done with you,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss the scars along her shoulder. She flinched slightly, her insecurities surfacing, but I caught her gaze and held it.

“You’re beautiful,” I said softly, my voice full of conviction. “And brave. My luna.”

Her lips parted, surprise flickering in her expression before she relaxed, the tension leaving her body as my hands roamed her curves. I leaned down, kissing her again as I slid my cock in her pussy, her moans spilling into my mouth as I moved inside her.

Her body responded to mine like we were made for each other, her warmth pulling me deeper, her cries of pleasure pushing me further. This wasn’t just lust—it was something far more powerful. I felt it in the way her body tightened around me, in the way her head fell back as she came again, her body shuddering beneath mine.

When I followed her over the edge, marking her as my own, the bond solidified in a way I couldn’t explain. As we lay tangled together, our breaths uneven, her voice broke the silence.

“Kayden…” she said softly, her green eyes locking onto mine. “Are we mates?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, the weight of her question pressing down on me.

“Then why is the mate haze affecting us?” she whispered, worry lacing her voice. I rolled out of bed, my mind spinning with too many questions. Heather followed, slipping out of bed to make us drinks. She handed me a glass of whiskey, her gaze lingering on me as I drank.

A sharp headache suddenly pierced through my skull, and I winced, pressing a hand to my temple. Heather’s worried face swam into view as she called my name.