Page 45 of Blood Marked

Selene didn’t stop.

She knelt in front of him and slowly reached out.

Her fingers brushed through his blood-matted fur. Over his cheek. Not flinching when he huffed against her hand. Not pulling away.

“You’re not lost,” she whispered. “Come back.”

Kael collapsed.

The shift reversed with a sickening grind of bone and sinew. Fur pulled back beneath flesh, muscle contracting, claws receding. His scream came out broken as he shifted down—falling forward onto hands, then knees, then trembling in the dirt and blood as a man again.

Naked. Bruised. Raw.

Selene didn’t flinch.

She dropped to her knees fully in front of him, cloak already off her shoulders.

She draped it over him without a word.

Then touched his face.

Kael flinched. Couldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice ragged and half-wolf. “I lost it.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I found your guards. I made Nyra bring me.”

He looked up, brow furrowed. “Why?”

Her jaw tensed. She didn’t say what shewantedto.

Instead, “Nothing. It can wait. Come on.” She tucked the cloak tighter around his shaking form and stood and walked him back to the horses.

NINETEEN

SELENE

Selene hadn’t seen Kael since the woods.

She didn’t chase him afterward. Didn’t question the way his hand lingered too long on her cloak or the way he’d stared at the trees like he was still halfway between beast and man.

He needed time. She knew it the moment she helped him stand—naked, bruised, hollowed out by whatever he'd let take hold of him.

And she didn’t fear him for it.

She should have. What she saw in that forest wasn’t Kael the heir. It was Kaelthe wolf. All teeth and bloodlust and fire in his eyes. But she hadn’t flinched. Not even when his mouth had dripped with another man’s blood.

Because something inside herknew.

Knew it had to be her. That no one else could’ve reached through that haze and dragged him back from it.

Maybe that made her reckless. Maybe it made her a fool.

But she hadfelthim.

And something about that terrified her more than the claws ever could.

She wandered the halls that morning, trying to outpace the thoughts swarming in her chest. Her boots echoed against the cold stone, a rhythmic tap she used to keep herself grounded.

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