Page 62 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

Callum glances sideways at me. “You okay?”

“No,” I say. “But I don’t think I’ve been okay in weeks, so.”

He huffs a small laugh. “Fair.”

“I’m trying to be chill about all this,” I admit. “But you dropped the equivalent of a magical soulmate nuke and now my entire nervous system is doing backflips.”

“Yeah. That tracks.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“You’re the one who came looking for me.”

“Touché.”

We fall quiet again.

I trace a crack in the bark with my thumbnail and try not to spiral. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to be,” he says.

“But it’s already happening.”

“I know.”

“And you—” I pause, looking at him. “You feel it all the time?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. Since the second I saw you.”

“Jesus.”

“I know.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that I don’t… feel it. I do. I just… I’m not sure where the line is betweenmewanting you, and whatever this bond ismakingme feel.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look hurt. Just leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice low and even.

“I can’t answer that for you. But I know what’s mine. And I know it wasn’t made in a lab. Or a prophecy. Or a fucking pack doctrine. It’s just there. Quiet and loud at the same time. Like gravity.”

I look at him.

And everything inside me stumbles forward all at once. I don’t think. I don’t plan. I just move. One breath. One heartbeat. And I kiss him.

It’s not like the cabin when adrenaline fueled me and the near-death experience as well as the trauma from shifting. This is clumsy at first. Too fast. Too needy. Like trying to hold onto something that keeps slipping between my fingers and I’m much more aware of it.

But his hands find my waist and steady me, and then everything clicks.

His lips are warm. Familiar. The same and different from the other night. Like I’ve been here before in dreams that I can’t remember when I wake up. And for one second—justone—it feels like maybe this isn’t the worst thing. Maybe being pulled to someone like this isn’t a death sentence.

Maybe it’s a lifeline.

But then my brain catches up. I break the kiss, stumbling back, breath ragged.

Callum freezes, hands still hovering like he doesn’t know if he should let go or hold tighter.

“Kendall—”

“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “I didn’t mean to— I just—fuck.”

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