“Each invitation from you feels more like a challenge,” she teased. “I’ve heard tales of your skill on the dance floor. I wonder if I’d ever measure up?”
She could always count on Kaelen to meet her teasing with mirth. His eyes sparkled as he wrapped his hand around hers—strong, firm, warm. When he pulled her into his arms, heat flooded her, not just from the firelight but from the surety of him. He was confident, unshaken, exerting just enough force to press her flush against him as the dance began.
He leaned in, so close that their foreheads nearly touched. “You already have—more than I could ever imagine.”
He moved, guiding her into a twirl. She didn’t know this dance, yet it didn’t matter. In his arms, she found a strange comfort in surrendering to his lead. His hands steered her through each turn and step, his grip unyielding but never forceful. And as he lifted her effortlessly,the world spun, but she felt steady as if, somehow, she belonged here in this moment, with him.
It was a potent reminder that bonds could be formed with silk rather than iron. Not all Alphas sought to break and bend. With Kaelen, her heart didn’t cower or retreat. Itsang—a melody of freedom, not fear.
“How did you learn this dance?” Reiya asked, breathless as he set her back on her feet.
His grin softened, golden eyes locked onto hers. “I’ve been to this festival before, remember?”
“I remember . . . but you never explainedwhy.”
His laughter rumbled low, blending with the music and cheers around them. “You’ve caught me,” he admitted. “And I take it you won’t let me escape this time?”
“No such hope.”
They found each other’s hands again, moving in perfect rhythm. His gaze flickered to the distant firelight, a shadow flashing across his face.
“If you truly wish to know,” he said, quieter now, “I came here because I was running away.”
Reiya’s steps faltered, but Kaelen steadied her with a firm hand.
“Running from what?”
He spun her lightly, drawing her back into his arms, their movements falling into rhythm once more. His voice dipped, nearly lost beneath the pulse of drums and laughter.
“From my betrothal. To an Omega I thought I loved.”
The words struck like a sudden gust of wind, catching her off guard. Kaelen had loved another Omega. Someone else had once held his heart.
“You . . .” Her voice faltered as she searched his face. “You loved someone else?”
It wasn’t the question she truly wanted to ask. What she feared, more than anything, was whether he stilldid. Whether she was standing in the shadow of something lost but not forgotten.
“Annaïs,” Kaelen said, the name lingering between them like aghost. “I thought we were destined. But . . .” He exhaled, his steps slowing as if the memory carried weight. “I wasn’t the only one.”
Her pulse quickened. A dozen moments flashed through her mind—Alarik’s quiet, lingering glances, the guardedness in his eyes when Kaelen wasn’t looking. A tension that had always been there, woven into the fabric of their bond. The pieces snapped into place with chilling clarity.
She barely found the strength to whisper his name. “Alarik.”
Kaelen met her gaze. “Yes. And worse, he loved her too.”
“They . . . didn’t tell you?”
“We were both kept in the dark. Alarik told me himself, the day my betrothal to her was decided. Then he walked away, thinking it was best. I couldn’t stay knowing that.”
She tried to piece it together, but the sharp twist in her chest said enough. She’d never considered that someone might’ve come before her—that the bond she thought they were forging had already been tested, stretched, perhaps even broken for someone else.
Kaelen must have sensed her turmoil because his hold on her tightened, as if pleading.
“Reiya,” he murmured. “It’s history. Over and done with.”
History.
The word felt too neat, too simple. As if this woman had been nothing more than a chapter closed. But her presence still lingered, didn’t it? It was palpable in the way Alarik carried himself, in the silences neither of them had spoken of until now.
