The Blood Shadow Pack house hummed with quiet energy. Evening had settled, and most of the warriors had retired to their rooms or the training halls. Only a few lingered in the common areas, the scent of roasted meat and smoke from the hearth still lingering.
Serena Anderson moved gracefully through the halls, ginger hair catching the firelight, grey eyes scanning the room even as Charis stirred beneath her skin. Every muscle was alert, every movement purposeful. She didn't want to be caught off guard—not by Greywood, not by anything… and certainly not by Clinton Stratford.
Clinton appeared at the end of the hallway, broad shoulders filling the frame, golden eyes tracking her with the intensity of a predator and protector combined. He stepped forward, careful but deliberate. "Serena," he said softly, voice low and commanding. "You can't keep avoiding me forever."
Serena's lips pressed into a line. "I'm not avoiding you. I'm… focused. That's all."
"Focused," he echoed, stepping closer, heat radiating off him. "Focused or stubborn?" His hand brushed against the wall near her shoulder, closing the space between them. "I'm here, Serena. Not to distract you. Not to take control. I'm your mate. I'm supposed to be here."
Charis stirred with an impatient growl, matching Draxis's low, throaty response from Clinton's mind. He's yours. You are meant to feel this.
Serena swallowed, jaw tightening. "I know." Her voice was soft, but the edge of defiance was unmistakable. "I just… I can't let anything interfere with the pack. Not now. Not even… us."
Clinton's hand lifted, reaching for hers, the warmth of his fingers almost brushing against her skin. "Serena," he said, voice thick with restrained emotion. "I don't want to interfere. I just want… you to feel it. Us. I want you to know that when the world threatens you, I'm here. When the pack needs you, I'll fight beside you. And when you need someone… I want it to be me."
Serena stepped back subtly, careful to keep the distance she needed. I can't… I can't let him distract me. Her pulse raced in more ways than one, and beneath it all, she felt the faint stirring of her latent Trybrid power, a subtle hum that Charis noticed immediately.
"You don't understand," she whispered, voice almost caught. "I can't… not yet. I need to handle this on my own."
Clinton's expression darkened, a mix of frustration, desire, and hurt flickering across his golden eyes. "You think this is easy for me?" he murmured. "Every time you push me away, every time you refuse what's ours… it hurts. Draxis feels it. I feel it. We are mates, Serena. I don't want to fight you—I want to be with you."
Her gaze softened, just barely. He only wants me… but I can't give in yet. She took a slow breath. "I know. But I can't. Not now."
The hallway fell silent, filled with tension, unspoken longing, and the weight of destiny pressing down on both of them. Draxis growled softly, mirroring Clinton's unspoken pain, while Charis purred, impatient, urging Serena to acknowledge the pull she could not ignore.
At the same time, in another corner of the house, Eliana watched quietly, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at her lips. Every glance Clinton spared toward Serena, every word of reassurance he gave, only fueled her jealousy. She thinks she can rise above me, Eliana thought. We'll see how long she lasts when the games truly begin.
Clinton exhaled slowly, forcing himself to step back, giving Serena the space she demanded while his golden eyes never left her. "I'll wait," he said softly, voice rough but steady. "As long as it takes. I'm not leaving."
Serena's pulse raced, heart hammering, yet she held her ground. I'll come to him… eventually. But not today.
The Blood Shadow Pack house, usually filled with laughter and warmth, now seemed alive with quiet tension—the heartbeat of two fated mates struggling between duty, desire, and destiny. And beneath it all, Serena could feel it: the stirring of a power she was not yet ready to command, whispering that her time to rise—and to embrace her fate—was coming.