“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, but my pulse is racing so fast I’m sure he can hear it.
“Your scent changes when you lie.” He inhales deliberately, and something predatory flickers across his features. “Right now, you smell like arousal and denial in equal measure.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Now go.”
He turns, nodding once to Zara, then slips through the service door just as Marcus’s footsteps approach the quarantine room.
“False alarm,” my brother announces, entering. “Electrical surge in the perimeter fence. Security is checking for…” He trails off, noticing the empty bed where the “coma patient” should be.
“I just transferred the patient to the secure medical transport,” I improvise. “Haven’s Heart requested immediate evacuation of all research subjects given the security situation.”
Marcus studies me with narrowed eyes. I’ve never been able to lie to him effectively—a disadvantage of growing up together.
“What aren’t you telling me, Elena?” he asks quietly.
I meet his gaze, knowing my next words will set us on diverging paths but seeing no alternative. “That I don’t believe the Storm Eagles are the mindless threat Haven’s Heart portrays them as. That I won’t help develop weapons specifically designed to torture them through their unique biology. And that I believe there are diplomatic solutions we haven’t properly explored.”
The disappointment in his eyes cuts deeper than anger would have. “Your compassion has always been your strength as a healer,” he says. “And your weakness as a scientist in wartime.”
“Perhaps,” I acknowledge. “Or perhaps seeing the enemy as thinking beings with valid motivations is exactly what we need in wartime.”
Marcus sighs, clearly recognizing the stubbornness he’s faced all our lives. “I can’t protect you if you continue down this path, Elena. The Council expects results.”
“I know,” I say softly. “I’ll give them my analysis of Storm Eagle biology. But I won’t help design their extinction.”
He studies me for a long moment, then nods once. “I’ll delay the EMP weapon proposal, citing insufficient research. But youneed to give me something, Elena. Something that justifies your continued presence here.”
Relief washes through me at this small concession. “I’ll have a comprehensive physiological analysis by the end of the week. Just… nothing designed specifically to harm them.”
As Marcus leaves to prepare for his return flight, I allow myself a moment of quiet panic. I’ve just committed myself to a precarious balancing act—providing enough information to satisfy Haven’s Heart without endangering Kael’s people. All while harboring his sister and navigating whatever this mate bond means for us both.
I think of the golden vial of blood and what it revealed—not just about Storm Eagle genetics, but about my own heritage. Whatever storm-touched bloodline flows through my veins has awakened in Kael’s presence, changing me in ways I’m only beginning to understand.
Science has always been my refuge, my way of making sense of the world. But now I face questions no microscope can answer. What am I becoming? What does the mate bond mean for enemies on opposite sides of a brewing war? And most urgently, how can I protect both Kael and my own people from the catastrophe Viktor and Haven’s Heart seem determined to create?
I return to my lab and unlock the hidden compartment containing Kael’s blood sample. The golden liquid catches the light, almost seeming to glow from within. Like the man himself, it represents something beyond my current understanding—powerful, ancient, and inexplicably connected to my own fate.
Whatever comes next, one thing is certain: I’ve crossed a line I can never uncross. For the first time in my life, my loyalty to scientific truth has led me away from my duty to Haven’s Heart and toward something I don’t yet fully comprehend.
But it feels right. As right as the storm energy that now hums beneath my skin, waiting to be understood.
8
KAEL
Ireach the mountain clearing an hour before our agreed meeting time. The night is perfect for secrecy—clouds obscuring the moon, a gentle breeze masking sounds, the promise of rain keeping patrols close to the aerie. I’ve chosen this location carefully: a natural depression surrounded by ancient pines, invisible from both ground and air unless you know exactly where to look.
Elena should be safe here. Should be. The thought of her risking everything to meet me sends equal measures of dread and anticipation through my body.
I shift into human form and begin preparing the space, arranging the items I’ve brought from the aerie. A small lantern with a hood to direct light downward. A sealed container of healing herbs Elena requested for her research. The ancient text on storm-touched bloodlines I promised to show her.
The mate bond tugs at me, stronger now after multiple meetings. I can sense her approaching even before I hear her footsteps—a subtle warmth in my chest, an awareness that grows more insistent with proximity.
My visits to Elena over the past weeks have become necessary, addictive. What began as exchanges of information—her analyzing my blood while I explained Storm Eagle traditions—has evolved into something dangerously intimate. Our conversations reveal parallels between us that transcend our different worlds. Her scientific mind complements my strategic one. Her compassion balances my pragmatism. Her quiet strength matches my more visible power.
I’ve never met anyone who understands the burden of exceptional ability like Elena does.
A twig snaps nearby. I tense, lightning crackling instinctively between my fingers, then relax as I catch her scent on the breeze. Moments later, she appears through the trees, moving with the careful precision of someone accustomed to laboratories rather than forests.
