“Ladies.” Astra’s quiet reprimand cuts through our whispered argument. Heat floods my face as I straighten, trying to look professional.
The meeting continues. Kieran introduces his delegation—all men, I notice. No women. The Snow Mountain Pack’s structure must be different from ours. They discuss trade agreements, magical practices, the delicate balance between tradition and progress.
But through it all, Kieran’s attention drifts back to me. His expression never changes—calm, controlled, almost emotionless. But those eyes bore into my soul.
By the time Lucian dismisses the delegation, allowing them to explore the palace grounds, tension is coiled tight in my shoulders.
“That alpha is intense,” Daciana mutters as we follow Astra from the throne room.
“You certainly seemed interested in him,” I tease, grateful for the chance to focus on something normal.
She punches my arm lightly. “Shut up. He’s…compelling.”
“He’s old enough to be your father.”
“Some men age like fine wine.” She grins wickedly. “And I happen to love fine wine.”
I laugh. Leave it to Daciana to turn a diplomatic visit into an opportunity for flirtation.
The next few days pass uneventfully. The members of the Snow Mountain delegation keep mostly to themselves, though I catch glimpses of them in the gardens or training grounds. Seth is busy coordinating security, leaving me with more time to help Astra in her lab.
But the way Kieran looks at me continues to unsettle me. He watches. Studies. Like he’s solving a puzzle only he can see.
“You’re paranoid,” Daciana says when I mention it.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m seeing threats where none exist.
I’m returning to Seth’s quarters late one afternoon, medical supplies tucked under my arm, when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Healer Selene.”
I freeze. That voice—deep, measured, instantly recognizable.
I turn slowly. Kieran stands a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back. He’s alone. No guards, no men from his delegation. Just him and me in an empty corridor.
“Alpha Kieran.” I force my voice to be steady. “Are you lost? The guest wing is—”
“I’m not lost.” He takes a step closer. Not threateningly, exactly, but calculatingly. “I need to speak with you.”
My wolf presses against my consciousness, uncertain. “About what?”
His eyes fix on my throat. Not on the mate mark Seth left—that’s hidden beneath my collar. Something else. Something I can’t see but he apparently can.
“You bear the mark of the Ulvan.”
The word means nothing to me. I shake my head, confused. “I don’t know what that is.”
“The undead.” His expression doesn’t change, but there’s darkness in his gaze. “Necromancy.”
Cold washes through me. “I—what?”
“The dead have touched you.” He says it matter-of-factly, as if he’s commenting on the weather. “Recently, I’d say. Within the last few months.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper.
Kieran studies me with those too-knowing eyes. “You will. But until then, remember this: you are no longer alone, Selene. Something walks with you. Something that shouldn’t exist in this world.”
Terror claws up my throat as I stare at him.
