Chapter 17 Cassidy
CASSIDY
Pain wakes me first.
It burns sharp along the side of my neck, hot enough that my hand flies up before my eyes even open. My fingers brush tender skin and I hiss softly, breath catching as memory slams back into place.
I was in the clearing, the rogue attacked me, but it was Alden who bit me… his teeth sinking into my neck.
My eyes snap open.
I am sprawled across a massive bed layered in dark linens that smell faintly of pine and something warmer beneath it.
The room around me is all heavy wood and stone, clean lines and controlled order.
A single lamp glows low near the far wall, casting long shadows that make the space feel both intimate and dangerously quiet.
Alden stands near the window, watching me.
The second I realize where I am, I shove upright. The motion pulls hard at my neck and I wince, fingers pressing again to the sore skin. Heat pulses there in slow, steady waves that feel entirely too aware of themselves.
“You bit me,” I say. My voice comes out rough and hoarse.
Alden does not flinch. He pushes off the window frame and crosses the room with measured steps, every movement controlled in a way that makes my pulse misbehave despite everything currently wrong with this situation.
“Yes,” he says calmly.
I stare at him. “That is your explanation?” I demand.
His jaw tightens slightly, but his tone stays even. “It was necessary.”
“Necessary?” I repeat, disbelief sharpening the word.
I swing my legs off the bed and stand, ignoring the brief sway of dizziness. The room tilts for half a second, then steadies, and I square my shoulders toward him.
“You do not get to decide what is necessary for my body,” I snap.
Alden stops a few feet away, and I can see the faint scrape marks on his shoulder from the fight. His eyes track the movement of my hand still pressed to my neck, something dark flickering there before it vanishes behind control.
“The mark legally binds you under my protection,” he says.
I blink. “That is not better.”
“It signals to every male and every shifter that you are untouchable,” he continues, voice steady and deliberate. “No one will challenge that claim openly.”
My stomach drops. “Claim,” I repeat slowly.
Alden holds my gaze. “The mark is associated with mating.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “WHAT?”
“And now,” he adds, quieter, “the pack recognizes you as mine.”
For a long moment, I cannot speak.
I know werewolves exist. I know they shift. I know the world is a lot stranger than I thought two weeks ago. What I did not plan for was waking up legally attached to the most dangerous man in the territory because he made an executive decision with his teeth.
“You are telling me,” I say carefully, “that I am now… what? Officially mated to you.”
Alden’s silence is answer enough.
Something in my chest goes tight and furious.
“You made a life-altering decision for me,” I say, my voice rising despite my best effort to keep it level. “Without asking. Without warning. Without even the basic courtesy of a conversation.”
His expression hardens slightly. “You were about to be exposed in front of wolves loyal to the rogue and half the council.”
“That was still my choice,” I shoot back.
“It would have been your death,” he counters.
I take a step toward him, heat rising fast and sharp under my skin. “You do not know that.”
“I know exactly what was closing in around you,” Alden says, his voice dropping lower.
The quiet intensity in it makes my pulse jump, which only makes me more irritated. I am furious, and my body is acting like this is some kind of charged standoff instead of an argument about bodily autonomy.
“You dragged me into pack politics I do not understand,” I press. “You branded me in front of your enemies. You tied me to you legally, socially, and apparently biologically.”
His eyes flash at that last word. “It was the only option,” he says.
“That was not your call to make,” I snap.
We are too close now.
I did not notice when the distance disappeared, but the air between us feels thick and charged. Heat rolls off him in steady waves, and the scent of pine and smoke clings to his skin, making my thoughts feel less orderly than they should.
“You think I wanted to do it that way,” Alden says, voice roughening slightly.
“I think you act first and explain later,” I fire back.
His jaw tightens. “You were in immediate danger,” he says. “From the rogue and from the council. You are learning too much too quickly, and they were already questioning your presence.”
“And your solution was to bite me, to turn me into your mate?” I ask flatly.
“Yes.”
The blunt answer hits harder than if he had tried to soften it.
Frustration spikes sharp and hot, and before I can stop myself, I step forward and jab my finger into the center of his chest.
“You do not get to—”
The bond detonates.
Heat surges through me so fast my breath stutters mid-word. It is not gradual. It is not subtle. It is a full-body wave that starts where my finger touches him and floods outward in a rush of awareness that makes my skin hypersensitive.
Alden sucks in a sharp breath. His control slips for half a second.
I feel it.
The air between us is dangerously charged, the argument dissolving into something thicker and far more volatile. My pulse jumps hard, and my body leans forward before my brain fully approves the movement.
I hate that.
I hate that my skin is still buzzing from his mark. I hate that the bond feels warm and alive between us. I hate that some traitorous part of me is suddenly very aware of how close he is standing.
Alden’s eyes darken. “Cassidy,” he warns quietly.
The way he says my name sends another unwanted shiver down my spine. I yank my hand back like I touched something hot, but the damage is already done. The space between us feels electric now, thick with something neither of us is fully containing.
“I am still mad at you,” I say. My voice comes out breathier than I intended.
“I am aware,” he replies.
For a brief second, his anger cracks.
Something raw slips through.
“I would rather face a civil war with the rogues,” Alden says quietly, “or lose the pack to a council vote…”
His gaze locks fully onto mine.
“…than lose you.”
The words land in the space between us and stay there.
I hold his gaze for a long moment, the anger still present but quieter now, banked down to something I can actually see past. What remains underneath is honest enough to demand the same back.
"I understand why you did it," I say finally.
"The threat was real. The timeline was real.
" He watches me without moving. "But if this is going to work—whatever this is—you don't get to make decisions for me.
Not like that." Our eyes remain locked. "Partnership means we move together. Even when it's inconvenient."
Something shifts in his expression. Not quite softening. More like recognition.
"Agreed," he says.
It's two syllables, quiet and without qualification, and somehow that matters more than any elaborate answer would. I feel the tension in my shoulders release by a fraction.
Without fully thinking it through, I reach out and take his hand.
The effect is immediate. Heat surges up my arm in a long, rolling wave, flooding through my chest and pooling low, and my breath catches audibly, without my consent.
Alden goes completely still, storm-gray eyes dropping to where my fingers are laced through his, then coming back up to my face.
The silver edge in his irises has surfaced.
I turn his hand over and press his palm flat against my sternum, directly over my heart.
The beat there is embarrassingly rapid. His palm is broad and rough with calluses, hot enough through the thin fabric of my shirt that I feel each ridge of scarred skin like a separate point of contact. A fine shiver moves through me, and it isn’t from the cold.
Alden's jaw tightens. He feels it—the hammering under his hand, the way my breath has gone shallow. His other hand slides around my neck, gripping gently, fingers curling into my hair, and he closes the remaining distance between us.
He doesn't ease into it. His mouth comes down on mine with the full weight of everything he's been holding back, and the kiss detonates through me like a struck match.
I open for him instantly. His tongue slides against mine, slow and deliberate at first, tasting and taking measure, and then deeper as my fingers curl into the front of his shirt.
He kisses with his whole body, chest pressing into me, his hand at my neck angling my head where he wants it.
The bond flares hot, amplifying every point of contact until my skin feels like it's been turned inside out.
I slide my hands under the hem of his shirt.
My palms skim up over the rigid planes of his abdomen, the muscle hard and defined beneath my fingers, skin fever-warm. I feel the slight catch of old scars, the flex of his stomach as my touch moves higher across his chest. He inhales sharply through his nose.
Then he groans—ragged and low and pulled out of him like he didn't mean to let it go—and something in him breaks loose.
He grips the backs of my thighs and lifts me in one motion.
I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct, and he moves across the room with me locked against him, unhurried and purposeful.
His mouth drags to my jaw, scraping teeth along the line of it, then down to my throat.
He finds the mark he left, and when his lips close over it, the sensation punches through me so sharply I gasp and grip his shoulders to stay anchored.
Every nerve ending I have redirects to that single point.
Heat pours through the mark like light through glass, spreading outward until my thighs tighten involuntarily around him.
“Alden,” I gasp his name, my voice a breathy whisper.
“I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you,” he growls.
He drops me onto the bed. Not gently.