Chapter 7 - Sera #2
“Because you care about it. You had a vision that terrified you enough to leave your territory alone and without backup, and Thornridge targeted you, and I need to understand why. Because—”
He cuts himself off, working his jaw like he’s biting back words.
“Because what?” I prompt.
“Because keeping you safe matters to me.” His hand comes up like he’s going to touch my face, then drops back to his side.
My wolf practically purrs at those words, and I shove her down into submission. This is ridiculous. I barely know this man. Yesterday, I was ready to walk out of here, no matter the consequences, and now I’m standing in his house letting him look at me like this.
“We should focus on the research.” I sidestep around him, putting the table between us. “The sooner we understand what’s happening, the sooner I can go home.”
Something flickers across his face—disappointment, maybe, or resignation—but he nods and returns to his books.
We work in silence for a while. He pulls out more volumes from the stacks scattered around his house, cross-referencing dates and events while I read through passages he’s marked. My own knowledge of Llewelyn archives helps fill in gaps, and gradually, a picture starts to form.
1721. A commission for magical binding. Emotional suppression affecting an entire pack.
1722. Historical observations noting the dramatic change in Llewelyn women’s behavior.
And throughout the centuries since, references to Llewelyn’s characteristic reserve and independence. The cold distance that defines us.
“Here.” I tap a passage in one of the older texts. “This mentions that Llewelyn had just gone through a succession crisis. The previous matriarch died without naming an heir, and three different women claimed the right to lead.”
Reeyan leans over to read, his shoulder brushing mine. “Succession crisis could have fractured the pack. Made them vulnerable.”
“Or desperate enough to try something drastic.” I flip through more pages, searching for additional context. “What if the emotional binding was commissioned as a way to prevent future conflicts? To create unity through suppression?”
“That’s dark, but it tracks with what we’re seeing.” He adds a note to his journal. “Emotional suppression would eliminate passion-driven conflicts and create a population focused on logic and duty rather than feelings and desires.”
“Would make us easier to control.”
“The Hysopp Coven’s archives.” Reeyan closes the book he’s been studying. “That’s our next step. We need to see the original commission documents, understand the exact nature of the binding, and figure out who requested it. Without that information, we’re just guessing.”
“When would we go?”
“Tomorrow, if I can arrange it.” He pulls out his phone and starts typing. “I’ll contact their leadership today and request access under inter-regional treaty authority. Mention that we’re investigating a potential supernatural threat that may affect multiple territories.”
As he’s focused on the screen, my own phone vibrates in my hand. Caelan again.
Raegan says you’re not with her.
My stomach drops.
Reeyan’s head snaps up. “What’s wrong?”
“My sister just messaged. She talked to Raegan.” I stare at the screen, at the words that just shattered my carefully constructed lie. “I told her this morning that I was with Raegan, but Raegan told her I’m not there.”
“That’s a problem.”
“You think?” I type quickly. I meant I’m in Grayhide territory, working with someone Raegan knows. Sorry for the confusion. Everything is fine.
“That’s not going to hold for long,” Reeyan comments. “Your sister is going to have questions. Your matriarch is going to have questions. And if Raegan’s confused about why you’re using her as an alibi—”
“I know.” I drop onto the nearest chair, phone clutched in my hand. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. The lies are already falling apart. I wish I knew why this stupid vision didn’t want me telling anyone in my pack about it.”
“Then we tell them the truth.” He sits across from me.
“Or at least, a version of it. You’re investigating Llewelyn’s history as part of the inter-regional treaty work.
You’re collaborating with Grayhide’s historian to understand historical patterns that might be relevant to current security concerns. All of that is technically true.”
“Without mentioning the vision or the curse or the kidnapping attempt.”
“Right. We keep those details need-to-know until we have more information.” He reaches across the table, hand outstretched palm up. “Trust me. We’ll figure this out.”
I look at his hand for a long moment. Taking it feels like accepting something bigger than just a partnership on an investigation. It feels like acknowledging that maybe, despite everything, he’s actually trying to help rather than control me.
My wolf whines, wanting me to touch him. Wanting that connection.
I place my hand in his.
The contact sends a shock through my entire system. Like touching a live wire, except instead of pain, there’s warmth and recognition and this overwhelming sense of rightness that makes no logical sense.
His fingers close around mine, and I watch his pupils dilate until only a thin ring of green remains.
We’re both leaning forward now, drawn together by some invisible force. The table between us feels like both a barrier and the only thing keeping us from doing something we can’t take back.
His thumb strokes across my knuckles, and I shiver despite the warm morning sun streaming through the windows. This is insane. I know that. I barely know him. I’m here under duress. This whole situation is built on manipulation and coercion.
But my wolf doesn’t care about rational thought. She wants him. Wants this. And for once, the human part of me agrees with her.
Reeyan swallows hard before he leans in even closer, until his lips are mere centimeters from my own. I lick my lips in a silent gesture of consent as I suck in a breath, imagining what he will taste like.
But then a knock at the front door shatters the moment like glass.
We both freeze, staring at each other across the book-covered table. My heart pounds against my ribs hard enough to hurt.
The knock comes again, more insistent this time.
“You should probably get that,” I tell him, though part of me wants to ignore whoever’s outside and return to whatever was happening between us.
The sensible part wins. The part that remembers I’m supposed to be investigating a curse, not developing feelings for the man who’s keeping me here.
Reeyan stands slowly, like he’s reluctant to break whatever remains of the moment we just shared. His eyes hold mine for a beat longer than necessary before he finally turns toward the door.
I watch him go, my hand still tingling where he touched it, and my lungs screaming for air as I tell myself to just breathe.