Chapter 6 The Edge of Surrender

The rain had already stopped. The night air smelled of wet earth and pine. Ayla stood at the balcony, hands gripping the cold rail. Her heart was restless. Every thought circled back to him.

She heard the soft creak of the door. She didn't turn, but her skin tingled. Ronan's steps were slow, measured. His presence filled the space before he even spoke.

"You're still awake," he said, voice deep and rough from the late hour.

"I couldn't sleep," she whispered.

He moved closer, his warmth brushing her back. "Because of me?"

Ayla swallowed. "Maybe."

Silence hung heavy between them. She could feel his eyes on her, searching, questioning. She finally turned. The moonlight caught the hard lines of his face, softening them. His hair was damp from the mist, a stray lock falling over his forehead.

Her breath caught. She hated how easily he could steal her breath.

"You should rest," he murmured, but made no move to leave.

"Should I?" Her voice came out softer than she meant.

Ronan stepped closer. He rested one hand on the railing beside hers. The other brushed against her arm. She shivered, but not from the cold.

"I've tried to stay away," he said, eyes fixed on hers. "But you keep pulling me in."

Her chest tightened. "Maybe you just like the chase."

His mouth curved, but it wasn't a smile. "You have no idea what I like."

Ayla's pulse drummed in her ears. She should have looked away, but she couldn't. She wanted to step back, but her body leaned toward him.

"Then tell me," she whispered.

His hand slid from the railing to her waist. The heat of his touch burned through the thin fabric of her dress. "I like the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching."

Her lips parted. "And when I am watching?"

He leaned in, his breath brushing her cheek. "Then I can't look anywhere else."

Her knees weakened. She should have pulled away, but instead, she gripped his shirt. The fabric was warm, the scent of him intoxicating.

"Ronan..." She didn't know what she meant to say, but his name felt like a plea.

He cupped her face in both hands, tilting it toward him. For a moment, neither moved. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes.

The world felt still.

And then his mouth met hers.

It wasn't gentle. It was raw, urgent, like he had been holding back for too long. She gasped, but he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss.

Her hands slid up his chest, fingers tangling in his damp hair. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She felt the steady, strong beat of his heart against hers.

The kiss slowed, softened, but his hold didn't loosen. His thumb brushed over her cheek, and she realized she was shaking.

When he pulled back, their foreheads rested together. His breath was unsteady.

"This is dangerous," he said, voice low.

"I know," she breathed.

"I can't protect you from what's coming," he murmured.

Her eyes searched for him. "Then don't. Just... stay."

His jaw tensed. "You don't understand-"

A loud crash echoed from the hall. Both of them froze.

Ronan pulled her behind him in one swift motion. His eyes darkened, sharp and alert. The warmth of the moment vanished, replaced by tension.

Another sound came-boots pounding against the floorboards.

Ronan's hand closed around hers. "We need to go."

She wanted to ask why, but the urgency in his voice silenced her. He led her through the side door, moving quickly but quietly.

The wind outside was really freezing. The moon had hidden behind thick clouds. Shadows moved among the trees.

A figure stepped out from the dark. Tall, broad, armed.

Ronan stopped, pushing Ayla behind him again. "You're too far from your pack," the man said, voice mocking.

"I'm right where I need to be," Ronan replied.

Ayla's heart pounded. She clutched his sleeve. The man's eyes flicked to her. A slow, cruel smile formed.

"She's the reason you're weak."

Ronan's growl was low and dangerous. "Say that again."

The man didn't flinch. "You've forgotten the oath you swore. And for what? A human girl?"

Before Ronan could answer, more figures emerged from the trees. Ayla counted at least five.

Her grip on him tightened. "Ronan..."

"Stay behind me," he ordered.

The night air filled with the sound of claws scraping against the ground.

The man in front stepped forward, and his body began to change. Bones cracked, fur pushed through skin, his eyes glowing a fierce yellow.

Ayla stumbled back, gasping. She had never seen a shift happen so close.

Ronan turned his head slightly, his voice firm but soft. "Run when I tell you."

Her throat tightened. "I'm not leaving you-"

"Run," he said again, sharper.

The shifter lunged.

Ronan moved faster than she could follow, meeting the attack head-on. The air filled with snarls, the sound of impact, and the smell of blood.

Ayla's chest heaved as she backed away, searching for a path. But more shapes circled in the shadows, cutting her off.

One of them stepped into the light, his face familiar. Her breath caught.

It was the man from her dream.

And he was smiling at her.