Kier walked backwards into the fog with his palms up, and the mate pull followed him like a shadow that would not fall off.
It sat under his ribs like a second heartbeat.
He looked at his own hands. They shook like a man who had just missed a bad fall.
He had felt it the second his fingers closed on her jacket. The bond.
His wolf had gone still and sure, and three years of exile had meant nothing at all.
Billie: You. Exile. Don't go sliding off into the dark on me.
Billie found him by the rope coils, gloves on, boots smacking the wet wood like she wanted the whole dock to hear her coming.
Billie: What the fuck was that back there?
Billie: You don't get to grab her and then walk off like a ghost.
Kier: I don't know.
Billie: Don't hand me that bullshit. I saw your face.
Billie: You felt something. So say it out loud.
Kier: It's a mate bond.
Saying it out loud made it real. It made it worse.
Billie: No. Not her. Absolutely fucking not.
Billie: You're exile trash and everyone on this river knows it.
Billie: Rogues are dogs off the chain, and you're the worst of them.
Billie: She's been chewed up by one man already. Stay the fuck away from her.
Kier: I know what I am.
Kier: That's why I'm going.
He meant it. His wolf did not.
The pull dragged him toward those lights like a rope tied to his ribs.
He had hurt people before. That was the whole reason he lived alone out here.
Billie: I mean it, you hear me?
Billie: One more look at her and the whole pack comes down on you, you worthless piece of shit.
Kier: I hear you.
Billie turned and walked back toward the lights.
Kier stayed in the fog with his hands at his sides.
The bond did not care about exile. It did not care about fear.
It only cared that she was standing in there.
And that was the most dangerous thing about him.
So he turned his back on the lights and made himself walk away.
He told himself she was safer without him.
His wolf kept looking back.