KAIA'S POV
I can't go to the river. I won't go to the river.
That's what I keep telling myself as I pace around my small bedroom, watching the sun set through my window. Ronan asked me to meet him there, and every fiber of my being wants to say yes.
But I can't trust myself around him. Not after what happened in that bathroom. Not after the way his kiss made me forget everything I stand for.
"I need a drink," I mutter to myself. "Something to calm these stupid urges."
The Moonlight Tavern sits on the border between territories, a neutral ground where werewolves from different packs can drink without starting wars. It's exactly the kind of place a girl like me shouldn't go alone at night.
Perfect.
I change into my simplest dress and slip out of the cottage while Papa is asleep. The walk takes twenty minutes, and with each step, I try to convince myself this is better than meeting Ronan.
The tavern is crowded and loud, filled with smoke and the smell of cheap alcohol. Exactly what I need to drown out the memory of dark eyes and gentle touches.
"What can I get you, honey?" the bartender asks when I finally push through to the bar.
"Whiskey," I say. "The strongest you have."
He looks me up and down with concern. "You sure about that? You look like more of a wine girl."
"I'm sure," I snap.
The whiskey burns going down, but it's a good burn. A cleansing burn that might actually wash away the taste of Ronan's kiss.
"Another," I say, sliding the empty glass back.
"Slow down there, sweetheart," a voice says behind me. "The night's still young."
I turn to see three men standing way too close to my barstool. They're big, rough-looking, with the kind of smiles that make my skin crawl.
"I'm fine, thank you," I say politely, turning back to my drink.
"Come on, don't be like that," the tallest one says, moving even closer. "We're just being friendly."
"I said I'm fine," I repeat, my voice harder this time.
"What's a pretty little thing like you doing drinking alone anyway?" another one asks. "That's dangerous."
The irony isn't lost on me. I came here to avoid danger, and instead I've walked straight into it.
"I can take care of myself," I say, standing up from the barstool.
But the tall one blocks my path. "Where you going? We were just getting to know each other."
"Excuse me," I say firmly. "I need to leave."
"The night's barely started," he says, reaching out to touch my arm.
I jerk away. "Don't touch me."
"Feisty," the third one laughs. "I like that."
My heart starts racing, but not in the good way. Not like when Ronan touches me. This is pure terror.
"Please," I say, looking around for help. But the other patrons are either too drunk to notice or deliberately ignoring what's happening. "Just let me pass."
"Not so fast, pretty girl," the tall one says, grabbing my wrist. "We haven't finished talking yet."
"Let go of me," I demand, trying to pull away.
But his grip tightens. "You're not going anywhere."
The other two close in, boxing me against the bar. My breathing becomes shallow, panic rising in my throat.
"Please," I whisper. "Please don't do this."
"Do what?" the tall one grins. "We're just having a conversation."
His hand moves from my wrist to my waist, fingers digging in possessively. The touch makes my skin crawl.
"Stop," I breathe.
"Come on, sweetheart," he says, leaning closer until I can smell the alcohol on his breath. "Live a little."
"She said stop."
The voice cuts through my panic like a blade. It is deep, authoritative, and absolutely furious.
All three men turn toward the sound, and I see Ronan standing behind them. His dark eyes are blazing with rage, his entire body radiating the kind of power that makes other wolves back down.
"This doesn't concern you," the tall one says, but his voice is less confident now.
"Actually," Ronan says, stepping closer, "it concerns me very much. That's my mate you're touching."
The word 'mate' sends shockwaves through my system, but I don't have time to process it because suddenly the tall man's grip on me tightens.
"Finders keepers," he snarls.
That's when Ronan moves.
It happens so fast I barely see it. One second the man is holding me, the next he's flying across the room and crashing into a table. The other two try to rush Ronan, but he takes them down with movements so fluid they look like dancing.
In less than thirty seconds, all three men are on the floor, groaning and bleeding.
"If I ever see you near her again," Ronan says quietly, "I'll kill you. Slowly."
The threat hangs in the air like smoke. Everyone in the tavern has gone silent, watching with wide eyes.
The three men scramble to their feet and run for the door, leaving me standing there shaking like a leaf.
"Are you hurt?" Ronan asks, turning to me with concern.
I shake my head, not trusting my voice.
"Did they touch you?" His voice is deadly calm, but I can see the rage still burning in his eyes.
"Just my wrist," I whisper. "And my waist. But they didn't... they didn't get the chance to..."
He nods, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Good. That's good."
"How did you know I was here?" I ask.
"I went to the river," he says simply. "When you didn't show up, I got worried. Your scent led me here."
He came looking for me. Even after I rejected his invitation, he came looking for me.
"Thank you," I whisper. "If you hadn't come..."
"Don't think about it," he says firmly. "You're safe now."
But I can't stop thinking about it. Can't stop remembering the fear, the helplessness, the way those men looked at me like I was prey.
He steps closer, and this time I don't step back. This time, his presence feels like safety instead of danger.
"Why didn't you come to the river?" he asks softly.