Page 63 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

He stands slowly, expression unreadable. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Youwantedto.”

“Maybe,” I whisper. “Or maybe I just wanted to feel normal again for five seconds.”

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

“I’m not ready,” I say again. “For what this means. For whatyoumean. I mean, I know we’ve already gone there, but–this… this is different.”

He nods once. “Then I’ll wait.”

I look up at him.

“Why?” I ask. “Why would you put yourself through this?”

His voice is quiet. “Because I don’t think you’re just mine, Kendall. I think I’m yours, too.”

That does rip through me. I blink back the burn behind my eyes and take a shaky breath.

“I should go,” I say.

“I’ll walk you?—”

“No,” I cut in. “I need a minute. Alone.”

He doesn’t argue. Just nods again, slow and careful, like a man trying not to scare off something fragile.

I turn and head for the trail. My hands still tingling. My lips still burning. And for a second, just before I disappear around the bend in the path, I swear I feel something else.

Something watching.

SomethingnotCallum.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise, but when I turn, the woods are quiet.

26

CALLUM

It’s well past midnight when I slip through the back alley door and down into the undercellar. One of the old meeting halls, long abandoned—no markings, no pack sigils, no paper trail. Just dust, brick, and shadows.

I should be tired. My bodyistired. But my mind is still back in the woods. Still withher.

That kiss.

Not like the one at the cabin, when adrenaline made us stupid and grief made us reckless. That night, we were heat and survival and teeth on skin. It felt like trying to breathe underwater. Like we had minutes left to live and no time to waste.

But tonight?

It was slower. Raw.Real.It scared her—and it scares me, too. Because if that was her reaching for me without the bond pushing her then I’m already too far gone. And I don’t know what the hell I’ll do if I ever have to let her go.

The others are already waiting when I enter.

Elias leans against the wall, arms crossed. Devon and Sura sit on stacked crates, both barely out of puphood but loyal to me in a way that matters. And across from them, two wolves—reformists from the edge packs, here under shadow and risk along with a few werewolves who are just as tired as we all are. Of all of this.

No names tonight. No titles.

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