Page 12 of Third

The bracelet throbbed against hisskin.

He turned his head—and she was there.

Anya.

Sleeping. Curled slightly toward him, lips parted, breath steady. Soft hair sweeping her cheek. Unaware.

He stared at her for one ragged breath. Then another.

His entire body was tight, on edge, trembling not with rage, but with something worse. He was still half-caught in the vision, breath shallow, blood heated and confused. The forest still clung to him—its heat, its scent, her image burned into the backs of his eyes. His fists clenched instinctively at his sides, and he shook his head once, sharp, like a predator trying to shake off a sedative. He didn’t want it. Didn’t ask for it. But the craving still crawled under his skin. The remnants of the dream tugged at him, begging for more, even as his mind recoiled in revulsion. He dragged a hand through his hair, jaw rigid, forcing every cell of his body back into alignment.

It took toolong.

Long enough that he hated how close it hadcome.

Craving.

He sat up, slowly. Deliberately. Planted both feet on the floor and pressed his hands to his thighs.

That is notme.

The memory—no, the programmed vision—still roiled in his mind, slick with instinct and heat. He tried to file it away, like corrupted data. But it clung. Itwanted.

That is notme.

Behind him, Anya shifted slightly in her sleep. The sound pulled at him like a hook in his spine.

He stood.

Backedaway.

The bracelet pulsed once. Again. Hungrier this time. The craving growing. Pulling. It twisted through his limbs, wound tight in his gut, demanding motion, release,her. His lips curled back over his gold-capped canines, not in threat, but in instinct. Primal. Automatic. He growled, low and rough, asound that rose unbidden from somewhere beneath speech—ancient and territorial. He pressed both hands flat to the wall, trying to protect himself against the risingheat.

It didn’twork.

He forced his breathing to regulate. Forced his eyes away from the delicate line of her jaw, the softness of her mouth, the way she murmured something in her sleep—

“Maya...”

He froze.

His jaw locked. He turned hisback.

A relative? An emotional connection? Whoever Maya was, she wasn’t meant for him. No, it was Anya’s tether. Her reason.

A craving separate from hisown.

And yet, their bond didn’t care whose ache came first.

It responded anyway.

And still, the bracelet glowed.

He moved to the far wall and braced one palm against the cool surface, supporting himself. The craving followed. Not just followed—it surged. With each step away from her, it intensified, wrapping tighter around his chest, his spine, his thoughts. The absence of her beside him became unbearable, adragging weight against his instincts. The wall was cold, but not enough. Not enough to counteract the burning need humming beneath hisskin.

Control is not optional.

And then he heard her shift.

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