Page 180 of The Moonborn's Curse

In Pain.

She blinked rapidly and looked away.

Later, on the walk back, the sun was lower and the shadows long.

Hagan shifted back just beyond the path's bend, tugging his clothes back on with the same relaxed ease, catching her gaze when she looked—letting her look.

No shame.

This isyours, his body said.

I'm still yours.

They reached the bench where the path curved back toward the bus stop.

Hagan pulled out the thermos and poured her a steaming cup of hearty vegetable soup, fragrant with herbs and warmth. He handed it to her silently. She took it.

They sat side by side. Steam curled between them.

"Why couldn't we have stayed like this?" Seren asked quietly, voice almost lost to the breeze.

"What changed?"

He was silent for a while.

Then, "I did."

She turned her head slightly, waiting.

"I took you for granted," Hagan said, his voice low and rough. "You were mine. And I thought you weren't going anywhere. I was so caught up trying to please my father, the tribe, be the future Highclaw... I forgot the most important truth."

He turned to her, eyes burning with regret.

"You were my tribe. My moon. Myeverything. And I treated you like an afterthought."

Her throat closed up.

His voice broke. "I'm not that boy anymore, Seren. I know what I lost. I know what I threw away. I will never do it again. Please give me another chance to prove myself"

She didn't reply.

Just lifted her hand and ran her fingers over the dark stubble on his scalp.

Then his jaw. His cheek.

"I miss your curls," she whispered, changing the subject.

"I'll grow them back," he promised, his breath catching. "I'll do anything for you."

Then he kissed her.

A soft, reverent brush of lips. Just once.

Then he pulled back, searching her face like he'd never seen anything more precious.

The bond—silent for so long—shivered in her chest. The faintest tug.

Not a single strand anymore, but two.

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