It wasn't just the warmth of his skin or the way his muscles tensed beneath her fingertips. It was deeper, something ancient and binding, curling around her like unseen chains.

The mate bond.

Celeste's breath hitched.

Ronan had told her not to touch him.

Now, she understood why.

His body stiffened, a sharp inhale dragging through his teeth. Those red eyes flicked to hers burning, hungry, something feral just beneath the surface.

"I warned you," he rasped.

Celeste tried to pull back, but his hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist not to hurt, but to hold.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

"Let go," she whispered, but even as she said it, she didn't move.

Ronan's thumb dragged across her pulse, slow, deliberate. "I can't."

Celeste swallowed hard.

This was dangerous. He was dangerous. She needed to get away from him.

And yet-

Every part of her refused to move.

Ronan exhaled sharply and finally released her, his body still too close, too solid, too warm.

"Why?" she asked before she could stop herself.

His jaw clenched. "Why what?"

"Why can't you let go?"

He hesitated, then tilted his head, studying her like she was some impossible riddle.

And then, so softly she almost didn't hear it, he said-

"Because you don't want me to."

Her breath hitched.

No. No, no, no-he was wrong. He was so wrong.

But the worst part?

He wasn't.

Something deep inside her wanted this, even as her mind screamed to fight it.

Celeste's hands curled into fists. No. She wouldn't fall into this trap.

She turned away, forcing herself to focus on something else-anything else. The bodies of the hunters lay still, the scent of blood thick in the air.

Ronan was still bleeding, the knife wound in his back darkening his shirt. He hadn't even flinched when it happened.

"How are you still standing?" she muttered.

He huffed a dark laugh. "You think this is bad?"

She turned back, exasperation flaring. "Yes, actually. You have silver poisoning."

He shrugged, and damn him, he looked amused. "I've had worse."

Celeste scowled. Unbelievable.

Fine. If he wanted to act like a stubborn idiot, let him. She wasn't about to watch him drop dead in front of her.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Sit down."

Ronan blinked. "What?"

"You're injured," she said firmly. "And have trained under a healer for a short while let me see your wounds so I can know which leaves to use for it. So unless you want to drop dead, I suggest you sit your ass down and let me help you."

Something flickered in his expression-surprise? Amusement?

Then, slowly, he obeyed.

Celeste moved behind him, her hands hovering over his back. His shirt was torn, the deep wound still raw and edged with silver burns.

It should have been killing him.

He should have been weak, barely conscious.

Instead, he sat there like a damn king on a throne.

"You should be dead," she muttered.

His voice was quiet. "I can't die that easily."

Celeste's hands hesitated. "Because of the curse?"

A pause.

Then, "Yes."

Her stomach tightened.

She had heard rumors about Ronan's exile, but no one knew the full truth. Now, she was touching the proof of it.

Blood Alphas were rare. But a cursed Blood Alpha? That was impossible.

Then again... so was this mate bond.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the wound, and something shifted.

A pulse. A spark of energy beneath her skin.

She inhaled sharply. What the hell?

The air between them thickened, something old and unfamiliar stirring inside her. The second her palm pressed against his back, a pulse of warmth traveled from her fingertips into him.

Ronan's entire body went still.

His breath caught.

Celeste felt it-the wound beneath her palm knitting together, muscle mending, skin closing. The scent of silver burned away in an instant.

She yanked her hand back, eyes wide.

The wound was gone.

Completely.

A heavy silence filled the space between them.

Celeste's chest heaved. "What the hell was that?"

Ronan turned his head slowly, his eyes burning into hers.

And then-he smiled.

Something dark. Something knowing. Something dangerous.

"Interesting," he murmured.

Celeste's stomach twisted.

No. No, no, no. That wasn't possible. She wasn't a healer-she had never healed anything before in her life.

But Ronan didn't look surprised.

He looked like he had just found the missing piece of a puzzle.

Celeste's hands clenched. "What did you do to me?"

His smirk deepened. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

Her wolf shivered, a deep, low whisper curling in the back of her mind.

She had spent her whole life being normal.

But something told her that was about to change.

Because tonight, under the Blood Moon, Celeste had done something impossible.

And Ronan Duskbane was never letting her go now.

Chapter 4 The Mark Of The Alpha

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