KAIA'S POV
I'm alone in Ronan's room again, staring at his desk covered with papers. This is exactly what I need - a chance to search through his things, to find some evidence about what happened five years ago.
I move toward the desk quietly, my heart racing. Maybe there are old letters, documents, something about Marcus or what he did before he disappeared.
Just as I reach for the first drawer, I hear footsteps in the hallway.
Damn it.
I jump back just as the door opens and Ronan walks in. He fills the doorway like a storm cloud—tall, broad, and undeniably dominant. His presence is impossible to ignore, all power and raw masculinity wrapped in a deceptively calm expression.
He glances at me, eyes briefly flicking to where I stand near his desk, but he doesn’t comment.
Instead, he walks over, towering above me, and leans down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead.
The contrast rattles me.
A man that huge, that fearsome, showing me tenderness? It knocks the breath out of me. I don’t know how to react—so I don’t say anything at all.
"Good morning," he says softly.
"Good morning," I reply, stepping back from him.
"Sleep well?" he asks.
"Fine," I lie. I barely slept at all, my mind racing with everything that happened between us yesterday.
"I remember what my father said at breakfast this morning," I say suddenly. "About the mating ceremony."
Ronan stiffens immediately. "What about it?"
"He wants to have it soon," I continue. "This weekend, actually."
"I know," Ronan says carefully. "He mentioned it to me too."
"Well, I'm not ready," I say firmly. "I'd love if you could leave that for now."
He turns to face me fully, studying my expression. "You're not ready?"
"No," I confirm. "I need more time. Time to process everything, time to figure out what I want."
"Of course," he says, and to my surprise, he's smiling. "That's not a problem at all."
"Really?" I ask, suspicious of how easy this is.
"Really," he confirms. "I'll wait until you're ready. No pressure."
The relief I feel is overwhelming. I was prepared for an argument, for him to insist on following his father's timeline.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
"You don't need to thank me for respecting your wishes," he says. "That should be the bare minimum."
Before I can respond, he suddenly brightens with an idea.
"Come with me on a run," he says.
I raise an eyebrow. "A run?"
"Yes," he says, grinning now. "When's the last time you shifted? When's the last time you let your wolf run free?"
"I don't know," I admit. "It's been a while."
"Then you're overdue," he says, grabbing my hand. "Come on."
"Ronan, I don't think—"
But he's already pulling me toward the door, his enthusiasm infectious.
"Trust me," he says. "You'll love it."
Before I know it, we're racing through the pack house corridors, his hand warm in mine. I find myself laughing despite everything, caught up in his excitement.
"Where are we going?" I ask, breathless.
"The forest," he says, not slowing down. "The best running trails in the territory."
We burst through the back doors of the pack house and into the morning sunlight. The forest stretches out in front of us, green and inviting.
"Ready?" Ronan asks, not letting go of my hand.
"I guess," I say, and then I feel it starting.
The shift always begins with a tingling sensation, like electricity running through my veins. My bones start to stretch and change, my muscles reshaping themselves.
Ronan's grip on my hand tightens as his own transformation begins. I can feel his strength, his power, even as our forms change.
And then we're wolves.
My wolf form feels incredible after so long. Stronger, faster, more alive than my human body. I can smell everything - the earth, the trees, small animals in the underbrush, and most strongly, Ronan's intoxicating scent.
He's a massive black wolf, bigger than I expected, with intelligent dark eyes that are unmistakably his.
Run, his wolf seems to say, though not in words.
And we do.
We race through the forest like we're flying, our paws barely touching the ground. The wind whips through my fur as trees blur past us.
I haven't felt this free in years.
Ronan stays beside me at first, matching my pace, but then he starts to pull ahead.
Is that a challenge? I think, and push myself harder.
It turns into a competition quickly. We're racing now, really racing, each trying to outrun the other. Every time I think I'm gaining on him, he finds another burst of speed.
He beats me every single time.
But I don't care. I'm laughing in my wolf form, a sound that comes out as something between a bark and a howl.
We run for what feels like hours, through streams and over fallen logs, around trees and across clearings. My wolf feels alive in a way she hasn't in years.
Finally, we collapse in a sunny meadow, both panting hard. We shift back to human form, lying on our backs in the grass.
"That was amazing," I gasp, staring up at the blue sky.
"You're fast," Ronan says, turning to look at me. "Faster than I expected."
"Not fast enough to beat you," I point out.
"Give it time," he says with a grin. "You'll get there."
I turn my head to look at him, and something shifts between us. He's beautiful in the sunlight, his dark hair tousled from running, his eyes bright with joy.
"You look happy," I observe.
"I am happy," he says simply. "Happier than I've been in a long time."
"Why?"
"Because you're here," he says. "Because you're laughing and running and letting yourself enjoy something for once."
The honesty in his voice makes my chest tight with emotion.
"I can't remember the last time I felt this free," I admit.
"Your wolf needed this," he says. "She's been caged up too long."
He's right. My wolf has been suppressed for years, locked away while I focused on grief and revenge.
"Thank you," I say softly. "For bringing me here."
"Thank you for coming with me," he replies, voice lower now. His eyes linger on me, intense. "You don’t know what it means—for my wolf. Having a mate who’s untouched, unclaimed by anyone else... it makes the bond stronger. The instinct sharper. It’s more than just desire—it’s power."
We lie there in comfortable silence for a moment, both catching our breath. But then I become aware of how close we are, how his scent is surrounding me, how the bond between us is humming with contentment.
I turn to look at him again, and find him already watching me.
"Kaia," he says softly.
The way he says my name makes something flutter in my chest. His eyes are dark with emotion, with want.
He starts to lean closer, and I find myself doing the same. The pull between us is magnetic, impossible to resist.
Our faces move toward each other slowly, inevitably. I can feel his breath on my lips, can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes.
My wolf is purring with satisfaction, ready to submit to her mate, ready to finally give in when he suddenly pulls away this time and mutters:
“I'll wait.”