Reject Me Twice

[Kira’s POV]

The heat hits me like a fever dream during the Feast of Shadows.

It starts as a whisper beneath my skin—a gentle warmth that spreads through my limbs, my chest, pooling low in my belly. Then it ignites. My blood turns to liquid fire, burning through every vein until I'm gasping for air that does nothing to cool me.

The dress clings to my sweat-slicked skin, the silk dragging across my body like phantom fingers. Too tight. Too sensitive.

Every breath, every movement, every brush of fabric feels like a caress I don't want but desperately, desperately need.

The sacred drums pulse through the clearing—a deep, primal rhythm that matches the frantic beating of my heart. Around me, pack members celebrate with wild abandon, their faces blurring into a sea of teeth and eyes and laughter.

But I can't focus on any of them. All I can think about is him.

Theron. My mate. My Alpha.

I push through the crowd, my legs unsteady, searching for that familiar broad-shouldered silhouette. He'll help me. He has to.

The mate bond stretches between us like a gossamer thread—so thin I sometimes wonder if it exists at all, if I imagined the whole thing.

I’ve never even felt our bond properly, fully. Maybe because there’s something wrong me, maybe it’s because I’ve never even shifted before.

But surely he feels this. Surely he knows his mate is burning, breaking, needing.

The grove lies beyond the feast, shrouded in ancient trees. My wolf’s presence stirs inside my mind, whimpering, urging me forward with an insistence that borders on panic.

I stumble toward on shaking legs, my vision swimming. That's when I hear it.