The forest was quieter now. Not serenely, but with tension. The type of quiet before lightning would strike, before the scream.
Aria hadn't gone back to the Crimson Hollow Pack since the debacle at the moonrise altar. Days had passed, and Kaine hadn't seen her—not alive. But she haunted him nonetheless.
He felt her in the wind. Savored her on his pillow. Heard the echo of her name in every hallway he walked down. Her scent clung at the edges of his mind like an ailment he couldn't shake.
And the bad news?
He didn't want to.
Kaine was in the training room, half-naked, his skin glistening with sweat. He was not training. He was beating himself. Each punch on the sandbag was a murmur of her voice. Every dodge, a memory of her caress. And when he shut his eyes—
Her face.
Her lips opened in defiance. Her golden eyes sparkling with that magic she refused to lock up.
"Again," he growled to no one, pounding his fist into the bag with such force it ripped open at the seams.
Grains spilled out like blood, slow and soft. Unsatisfying.
Like his hunger for her.
His beta, Rowan, was at a respectful distance, worry furrowing the deep lines in his face.
"She's not your mate anymore, Kaine," Rowan said tactfully. "You rejected her. You let her go."
Kaine's gaze flashed to him, burning with silver fire. "I know that."
"Then why are you acting as though she is yours to lose?"
Because she was.
Because she still is.
Because the bond may have been severed by blood and words, but not by spirit. Not yet.
"I don't owe you an explanation," Kaine snarled, turning away from the destroyed sandbag.
But even as he tried to focus, his mind drifted again.
She hadn't stayed hidden as he'd hoped.
No.
Aria burst out like a star burning through the night.
Stronger. Wilder. Beautiful.
When he last caught sight of her, she was in black leather embroidered with blood-red runes, her hair coiled like a queen, her presence unchallenged. And when she met his eye over the clearing that day, she didn't look away.
She didn't flinch.
She smirked.
As though she knew he watched.
As though she challenged him to.
She was playing with him. Having fun. And Kaine didn't know how much longer he could hold out.
---
---
Elsewhere — Aria
The moonlight danced on her skin as Aria bathed in the holy springs of the Witchgrove forest. Her magic pulsed beneath the surface, hungry and waking. Her palms stroked her thighs, washing away the smell of the day, but not the weight of him.
Kaine.
Even today, she could feel the black pull between them. His presence—a chain welded out of fire and hate and something evil.
And she. relished it.
Not because she still wanted him. But because she had him now in ways he had no idea.
He thought rejecting her would be the end of it.
It was only the beginning.
She shut her eyes, letting the moon kiss her cheeks, letting the visions come.
Kaine. Alonely. Sweating. Furious. Baring his anger at walls, as if the walls would hemorrhage answers.
He was slipping away.
As she'd wanted.
---
Later — Kaine's Manor
The flames in the fireplace writhed insanely as Kaine strode in his room, shirt still damp. He was unable to sleep. Unable to rest. Not when the bond continued to vibrate.
Yet there was no bond, really.
So why?
Why did he feel her still?
Why did he crave her as a starving beast?
Why did her smile haunt him more than her tears ever did?
He poured a glass of bourbon, his hands trembling. The glow of the fire highlighted the white scars on his knuckles, souvenirs from nights spent pounding himself for needing her.
He hadn't simply turned down Aria.
He'd broken something divine.
Something fated.
And now the punishment was in dreams and memory and hallucinations. It was in the wind's soft whisper of her name. In the scent of her fire just over his edge. She was always near. Always out of reach.
And Kaine hated himself for wanting her again.
But that was the madness of it.
He didn't want her.
He just did.
---
Flashback — The Day He Rejected Her
"You're not who I need."
Her lips trembled, but her chin rose. "Then say it."
"I renounce you, Aria Elowen," he ground out, teeth clenched. "As my mate. As my equal. As anything."
The yell she let fly was soundless, guttural, torn from the belly of her soul.
And when she left him, she bore the light with her.
He thought it would set him free.
It blighted him instead.
---
Now
He was losing it. Everyone knew that.
The pack was speaking. The warriors discussed in huddles, wondering if their alpha had lost his mind. If grief had shattered the king's crown.
They weren't wrong.
Every day without her touch was a torture.
And she knew.
He sensed her laughter in his head.
Not cruelly.
Because she was winning.
---
Meanwhile — Aria
In the old ruins beneath the moonroot cliffs, Aria stood before a mirror made of obsidian glass. Her fingers traced the rune carved into the stone—a spell of projection.
A faint shimmer filled the air, and she smiled.
There he was.
Kaine.
Pacing. Agitated. Breaking things again.
Obsessed.
She whispered softly, her voice lost in the wind. "You're unraveling, Kaine."
She touched the mirror like she might stroke his face.
"I wonder what you'll become when there's nothing left of you… but me."