Aidan.

I hated it.

I hated the way she had looked at him.

I hated the fact that she had pleaded, not just spoken up, not just asked, but pleaded for him. Worse, she had dared to make excuses, to defy me, all so she could stay behind and tend to his wounds. As if his pain mattered more than my command. As if he mattered more than me.

More than us.

The thought burned through my chest like wildfire.

Why would she do that if she didn’t care?

The question gnawed at me, sharp and relentless, refusing to loosen its grip no matter how hard I tried to push it away. If it meant nothing to her, then why hadn’t she pulled back? Why had she stood there and let him hold her hands so tightly, fingers interwoven as though letting go would shatter her into pieces? I had seen it, every detail burned into my mind with cruel clarity. The way her body had leaned instinctively toward his. The way her shoulders had softened, her head tilting ever so slightly, as if she belonged there. As if his presence was something she welcomed.

She hadn’t pulled away.

Not until I made her.

That wasn’t a coincidence. That wasn’t harmless. And it definitely wasn’t nothing.

The realization twisted something ugly and feral inside my chest. Did she like him? The thought alone felt like a blade sliding between my ribs. Did she want him? The question followed, sharper, more poisonous, sinking deeper and tearing through what little composure I had left. Each possibility stacked on the next, suffocating me beneath their weight.

The questions clawed violently at my mind, shredding control, ripping restraint to tatters. My thoughts spiraled, fast and vicious, refusing to slow no matter how hard I fought them.

Arrrghhhhhhh!

The scream ripped through me, not aloud, but inside, tearing through muscle and bone, echoing so deeply it felt like my very soul had howled. My wolf surged forward in response, restless and enraged, reacting long before logic could intervene. It sensed the threat clearly, unmistakably, and it did not care for reason or patience. Power rippled beneath my skin, hot and volatile, coiling tight like a beast straining against its chains, begging to be released.

She belongs to us.

The truth thundered through my head, overwhelming everything else. Louder than reason. Louder than restraint. Louder than the fragile civility I was barely holding onto. It wasn’t just a thought, it was instinct, ancient and absolute. She needed to understand it. Needed to feel it etched into her very being. No man, no rogue, no outsider had the right to stand that close to her. No one was allowed to touch her like that, to look at her like she was something they could claim, something they could keep.

She was not.

She was mine.

She was my mate.

My damn mate.

The possessiveness burned hot and unforgiving, curling deep in my chest, refusing to be ignored.

Didn’t she get it?

We had barely made it into the hallway when something in me snapped completely. I turned abruptly, my hand shooting out before thought could catch up with impulse, and pulled her hard against me by the waist. Her breath hitched, her body stiffening in shock as her back pressed into my chest.

I needed her to know.

I needed to remind her.

I needed to punish her, for the defiance, for the doubt, for the way she had made my wolf feel threatened.

Without hesitation, without permission, I claimed her lips.

The kiss was fierce, consuming, driven by raw possessiveness. I poured everything into it, every ounce of jealousy, every spark of rage, every twisted need clawing through me. I kissed her like I was erasing something, like I was stealing back every smile she had ever given that Vincent of a man out there.

She was meant to look at us like that.

Only us.

Whether she was Luna yet or not didn’t matter. The bond didn’t wait for titles.

I pulled away at last, breath tearing out of my lungs in harsh, uneven pulls. My chest rose and fell like I’d just come back from the edge of something dangerous, something I’d nearly lost control of. I stayed there, hovering over her, my gaze locked on her face as if looking away would loosen the grip I still had on myself.

"You should count yourself lucky to be my mate, Maria." The words spilled from me sharp and fast, edged with heat and frustration I didn’t bother to soften. They sounded rough in the air between us, carried on my ragged breathing. "There are many women who would give anything for that position." My jaw tightened as I spoke, the truth of it sitting heavy on my tongue. "Some would serve me willingly," I went on, voice cutting, "even without a bond."

The silence that followed throbbed, thick and charged. I could feel my pulse everywhere, in my throat, in my hands, in the space between us that still felt too close, too intimate. My tone shifted then, dropping lower, darker, stripped of any pretense. "And you?" I said quietly. "Being my mate means you are not allowed to be seen around any other man like that."

The words were final, absolute. There was no room in them for negotiation, no softness to hide behind. I let them hang there on purpose, watching her, forcing her to hear them, to feel their weight settle where it would hurt the most.

"Do you understand?" I asked after a brief pause, my voice steadier now, controlled, though the tension hadn’t left my body.

She didn’t answer right away.

She just stared at me.

Her eyes were wide, fixed on my face as if she were trying to read something there, mercy, perhaps, or reassurance I wasn’t offering. Fear flickered unmistakably in their depths, quick and bright, like a warning she couldn’t suppress. Her lips were swollen from the kiss, tender and slightly parted as she struggled to draw in air, each breath shallow and uneven.

She looked small like that, shaken and silent, caught between what she’d just felt and what she’d just been told. And still, she said nothing, only stared up at me, fear and confusion written plainly across her face as the last of my words settled heavily between us.

The sight of her like that, shaken, flushed, vulnerable, sent another dangerous wave of desire crashing through me.

She was alluring.

Too alluring.

For a moment, a terrifying thought crossed my mind, to take her right there in the hallway, to mark her so deeply no one would ever dare touch her again. But reality forced its way back in. I couldn’t afford that. Not now. Not with Vanessa already hurt, by this same mate of mine, days ago.

And yet...

I couldn’t control myself around her.

No matter how hard I tried.

It was the bond.

It had to be.

I pulled her closer again, unable to resist, inhaling deeply as her scent flooded my senses. It wrapped around me, intoxicating, driving me further into madness. My control was slipping, thread by fragile thread.

Before she could respond to anything I had said, I captured her lips again, this time rougher, more desperate, stripped of restraint. I backed her against the wall, my body caging hers as I kissed her like I had lost my mind entirely, like the world outside this moment didn’t exist.

When I finally pulled back, my forehead rested against hers, my eyes locking onto those captivating golden ones that haunted me even in my sleep.

"Do you think that Vincent can kiss you like this?" I asked harshly. "Do you think he could ever make you feel this?"

I didn’t wait for her to answer.

"He’s just a rogue," I continued, disdain lacing every word. "What does he have to offer you? What future could he possibly give you?"

She stared at me, silent.

For a heartbeat, I thought she wouldn’t speak at all.

Then she did.

"Peace, Alpha Aidan," she said softly, her voice trembling but honest. "He offers me peace."

The words hit me like a blow.

For a brief moment, just a moment, my face paled. Something cold twisted in my chest, sharp and unfamiliar. Peace?

Was that what she wanted?

What she thought she couldn’t have with us?

I forced my expression to harden instantly, refusing to let that crack show. "Peace?" I echoed coldly. "I don’t think he can."

My lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Because the next time I see him that close to you, I can’t guarantee you’ll ever see him again to offer you that so-called peace."

My voice dropped to a whisper. "He would be gone. Forever."

She froze.

The fear in her eyes deepened, and the sight of it sent a dark thrill through me, satisfaction curling ugly and undeniable in my gut. She needed to understand the consequences. She needed to stop testing my limits.

I reached up, gripping her neck, not to hurt her, but to hold her there, to make sure she couldn’t look away, as I claimed her lips once more.

I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t want to.

She was mine.

And no one else would ever touch what belonged to me.