Chapter 21: A Dangerous Game of Proximity

The early morning light spilled gently through the cracks in the cottage's wooden shutters, dust dancing in golden threads above the soft rumpled sheets. Aria stretched with a groan, the ache of yesterday's dramatic escape and emotional revelations still lingering in her muscles—and her heart.

Ronan was in the kitchen, humming.

That was already suspicious.

The man was a rogue Alpha, not Snow White.

Aria padded barefoot toward the source of the noise, her oversized shirt hanging off one shoulder—ironically, one of Ronan's old ones. The irony of wearing his clothes before anything had really happened between them wasn't lost on her.

"Good morning, sunshine," Ronan greeted without turning, his voice lined with humor. "Or should I say, moonshine?"

"You're unusually chipper," she narrowed her eyes. "Did you poison the tea again?"

"I only did that once," he said, lifting the kettle in mock offense. "And I already apologized for mistaking salt for sugar. You lived."

She laughed despite herself. He always found a way to dismantle her walls—often with sarcasm and perfectly brewed tea.

"I made pancakes," he added with a self-satisfied smirk. "Because I'm emotionally damaged but still domestic."

"Clearly, the Moon Goddess messed up," Aria teased, sitting at the tiny wooden table. "You should've been mated to someone who enjoys pancakes and therapy."

"Oh, sweetheart," he chuckled darkly, placing a plate in front of her. "I'm saving my therapy sessions for when I have to explain you to my future children."

Her face flamed. The casual mention of 'future children' hit her like a punch to the gut—but in the most bizarrely wonderful way. Ronan didn't even seem to realize the effect his words had.

Or maybe he did.

"Thanks," she mumbled, stabbing the pancake like it owed her money.

Later that afternoon, they stood outside, walking the perimeter of the magical boundary surrounding the forest clearing they now called home. Aria's powers were growing, but unstable. Yesterday's flare had knocked Ronan out cold—literally.

"I'm not fragile, you know," she said, watching him trail his fingers along the invisible barrier.

"Didn't say you were," he replied. "But I'd prefer not to get zapped again while making out."

She elbowed him. "We weren't making out."

"Yet," he muttered with a wink.

He turned serious a beat later. "Aria... do you know what this power means?"

"I'm trying to figure it out," she replied. "But whatever it is, it scares me. Not because it hurts me—but because of what it could do to you."

Their eyes met. And something passed between them—hot, electric, soul-deep.

Ronan stepped closer. "Then we figure it out together."

She didn't step back. "Even if it kills you?"

He smiled faintly. "Especially then. Because if I die in the name of love, at least I'll be dramatic enough for your future bedtime stories."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her.

That night, thunder rolled in the distance. Rain pattered against the roof while Aria curled on the couch, reading a crumpled old book from Ronan's secret stash of weird werewolf romance novels. Who knew the brooding rogue was a fan of supernatural love triangles?

Ronan plopped beside her, his shirt damp from checking the garden.

"Smells like wet wolf in here," she teased.

He ruffled his hair dramatically. "That's my new cologne. Eau de Exile."

They stared at each other for a moment. The air shifted. Close. Too close.

Aria's heartbeat kicked into overdrive.

Ronan reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You drive me insane, you know that?"

"Good," she whispered. "I'm not the only one losing sleep, then."

Their faces were mere inches apart. She could feel his breath. Smell his soap and rain.

He leaned in.

"Don't kiss me unless you mean it," she said quietly.

He froze.

Then slowly, he whispered, "I mean everything with you."

And their lips met—soft and slow, then hungry and heated.

The book fell from her lap.

So did every wall she'd ever built.

Just outside the boundary, something—or someone—was watching.

Kael.

His jaw clenched as he saw the light from the cottage flicker and heard Aria's laughter—soft, real, nothing like the broken girl he'd rejected.

And nothing like the woman she was becoming.

"She was never yours to keep," came a voice beside him. His Beta, Lorin.

Kael didn't reply.

But deep inside, something darker stirred.

Regret.

Rage.

And maybe… too late.