Kaldrek, however, remained calm. He leaned back in a relaxed position, bracing his weight on his arms, completely unbothered.
“Magic like that—tampered magic, forbidden magic—it always gives off a stench,” he explained. “It’s because it’s unnatural. Blood magic especially. It’s not meant to be tapped into; when it is, it leaves behind… things.”
Evelyne narrowed her eyes. “Things?”
Kaldrek tilted his head slightly. “Growths. Creatures. Corruptions. Whatever’s in this tunnel, whatever Vaelora’s magic has left behind, it’s probably something twisted from what it once was.”
“And that doesn’t scare you?” Evelyne asked.
His gaze flicked to her, the faintest ghost of a smirk appearing. “Fear doesn’t help you survive.”
Holden let out a dramatic sigh, pushing himself to his feet. “I don’t care if the walls grow teeth as long as we’re not facing the Noskari again. I’d take winding bloodroots over those bastards any day.”
With that, he turned, muttering something under his breath as he went to check on the elders in the pack, leaving Evelyne and Kaldrek alone.
Chapter 43
Along silence settled as Evelyne watched Kaldrek, the firelight dancing across his face. She wet her lips, searching for the right words.
“You kissed me. In front of the pack.”
Kaldrek didn’t flinch. “Was that okay?”
“It made for a tense conversation,” she admitted. “But I liked it.” A soft smile formed on her face.
Something dark flickered in his eyes, and his voice dropped low with intent. “Do you want me to do it again?”
She didn’t get the chance to answer. His hand moved up, fingers slipping behind her neck, guiding her face toward his with a gentle pull. The angle sent her pulse racing. His lips hovered just above hers, his breath warm against her mouth.
Heat rushed through her as she whispered, “Yes.”
And then he kissed her. Deep and thorough.
She didn’t care who saw. Didn’t care if half the pack was watching. At that moment, all that existed was the feel of his mouth on hers, his fingers tangled in her hair, and the way he surrounded her. Gods, she was in deep. Not just falling for a man, but for a wolf. An alpha. And still, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not one bit.
Later, when the pack slept for the night, she curled into him, her cheek resting against the steady rhythm of his heart. She didn’t wake when heslipped away for his watch, never felt his body shift or the chill that crept in to replace the warmth he left behind.
***
A week passed in the tunnel, the days blurring into one another, swallowed by darkness and the cool, stagnant air. The pack was growing restless, their patience fraying with every mile. Wolves were meant to run beneath the open sky, not caged underground with only flickering firelight to remind them of the world above.
The walls pulsed with their eerie web of bloodroot, the veins surfacing in places to wind through the dirt like living arteries. But they never attacked, never wrapped around their throats in the night like Holden had joked.
Evelyne noticed something one night: the bloodroots always receded when the fire was lit. She didn’t believe in coincidences, not when it came to dark magic, and she made a mental note of the pattern. Whatever these roots were, they weren’t just remnants of blood magic. They were alive, watching and listening.
Determined not to let the relentless travel wear her down, Evelyne rose early each morning, often before the rest of the pack, joining Heidara and a small group for training. Even in the damp, stifling dark of the tunnels, they practiced. Footwork, close combat, knife drills. Dirt and sweat clung to her skin, exhaustion a constant companion, but she didn’t let it pull her under. She needed the movement, the sense of purpose. Still, she couldn’t help but long for a proper bath and wondered how disheveled she must look.
Kaldrek neverseemed to care.
Privacy didn’t exist in the tunnels. Only fleeting seconds snatched in the dark. But Kaldrek made use of every single one. A brief kiss when backs were turned. His hand brushing her waist as they passed. A stolen moment by the fire, his lips on hers like a challenge to anyone watching. It left her yearning for more, but for now, she had to be content with these quiet, stolen touches.
Obren and his pack mostly kept to themselves, though the rift between them and the Ironwolf pack had started to ease, if only slightly. Most nights were filled with bickering over trivial things, but there had only been one real fight, and Holden and Ty had broken it up before it turned bloody. Even so, bonds began forming in the dark, fragile alliances born from shared hardship and the will to survive.
During one of these quieter nights, Evelyne learned more about Obren’s fallen pack. He sat beside her, sharpening a dagger with slow, methodical strokes, his eyes distant. She didn’t press him, but after a long silence, he finally spoke.
“The Noskari came at night,” Obren said, his voice low, hollow. “I was… distracted. Spent the evening wrapped up with a beautiful female while my pack was being slaughtered.”
He paused, the sharpening of his dagger slowing.
