4 - Bound But Not Chosen

Aria POV

The wind slipped through the birch trees like a ghost, tugging at the hem of Aria’s dress as she crouched by the stream just beyond the Moonfang compound’s border. Moonlight scattered across the water like spilled stardust, and the cold damp of earth beneath her bare feet grounded her, though not enough to quiet the ache in her chest.

“He hasn’t marked her,” she murmured, staring at the stream as it curled around smooth stones.

Finn, her best friend, slid down beside her with a dramatic sigh and the elegance of someone who could walk a red carpet in the middle of a forest. Even out here, his curls were perfect, his hoodie somehow unstained.

“Still?” he asked, raising a brow.

Aria nodded. “It’s been two full moons since the bond clicked into place. And still, nothing. He barely looks at her, Finn.”

He scoffed. “And Alpha Emotionally Unavailable has offered zero explanation, I assume?”

Aria bit back a small smile. “Don’t let Thorne catch you calling him that.”

“I hope he hears me. I’ll monogram it on a T-shirt. If you get blessed with a fated mate and you don’t claim them? That’s not noble. That’s cowardice.”

But it wasn’t that simple. Aria hugged her knees to her chest, her voice soft. “He’s not cruel. Not like… some Alphas. He just feels… distant. Like he’s trying to pretend the bond doesn’t exist.”

Finn wrinkled his nose. “So he’s the emotionally constipated kind. Wonderful. That’ll pair well with your sister’s hopeless romantic heart.”

Aria stared down at the stream, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. “She cries when she thinks I’m asleep,” she whispered. “Every night. She curls in on herself, and she tries so hard not to make a sound.”

Finn’s teasing faded. He reached over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, the warmth of him chasing away some of the chill.

“Oh, Ari,” he said softly.

“She’s terrified,” Aria said. “That he’ll reject her. That the bond will break her if it doesn’t complete. That she’ll turn into someone else… or lose herself completely.”

“You’re not going to let that happen,” Finn said firmly. “She has you. And if Thorne doesn’t figure it out soon, he’s going to lose something irreplaceable.”

Aria leaned into him, drawing strength from his steadiness. And yet even with his comfort, her thoughts drifted—unbidden—to someone else. Someone she shouldn’t be thinking about. Not here. Not now.

But she couldn’t stop.

Not when every night, he appeared in her dreams—shadowed eyes and sharp features, a presence more instinct than memory. Not when she sometimes felt him—somewhere in the trees, watching. Not hostile. Not safe. Just… there.

His eyes haunted her most. Icy blue. Piercing. Curious. Burning.

“Your face just did the thing again,” Finn said, nudging her with his shoulder.

“What thing?”

“The ‘I’m thinking about my forest phantom’ thing,” he said. “You go all distant and tragic, like you’re starring in a gothic romance. All you need is a candle and a stormy window.”

Aria groaned. “I do not do that.”

“You absolutely do. Honestly, it’s kind of hot. Who is he again? Tall, dark, mysterious? Shows up just long enough to make your soul itch?”

“He’s not—” She cut herself off, staring at the stream. “I don’t know who he is. I’ve only seen him once. Once in the clearing near the border. Then in dreams. It’s all blurred.”

“And you think he’s your mate.”

“I feel it, Finn. I can’t explain it. It’s like…” She touched her sternum. “Like a thread pulling tight under my skin. Like the world shifts when he’s near, even if I can’t see him.”

Finn studied her for a long moment. “You don’t even know his name.”

“I know how it feels when he’s near,” she said. “It’s not fear. It’s not danger. It’s like recognition. Like… remembering something you’ve never learned.”

Finn exhaled slowly. “Okay. That’s either incredibly poetic or incredibly concerning. Maybe both.”

Aria let her head fall onto his shoulder. “I wish I didn’t feel it. I wish I could ignore it. But I can’t. It’s like I’m being haunted by someone who hasn’t even spoken to me.”

“Maybe he’s from one of the nearby packs?” Finn offered. “Someone rogue? Or…”

He trailed off.

“Or what?” she asked.

He hesitated. “Or someone you’re not supposed to be bound to.”

Her chest tightened.

Finn didn’t say the words, but they hung heavy between them anyway.

Nightclaw.

Aria shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t even know what he wants. Why he was there. Or why I keep dreaming about him. I just know… it’s him.”

She didn’t add how the dreams had started changing—how they lingered longer now. How sometimes she woke with her heart pounding, his scent, cedar and snow, burned into her senses like it had followed her from the dreamscape into waking. How she’d caught herself reaching out in the dark, like he might actually be there.

Finn was quiet for a long beat. Then, with a sigh, he said, “Fate really knows how to stir shit up, huh?”

She smiled faintly. “That’s one way to put it.”

They sat together in silence, the stream trickling past them, moonlight catching in Finn’s curls and bathing the woods in silver. A mate who wouldn’t claim her sister. A mate she couldn’t reach. Couldn’t name.

But even now, even here, she felt him.

A fire beneath her skin. Quiet. Unrelenting. Waiting to burn.

And in that silence, something shifted.

A breeze curled tighter, colder, against her cheek. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Not fear. Not quite. But awareness. Like the forest itself had inhaled.

She turned slowly, eyes scanning the treeline. Nothing but shadows.

Still, her heart beat harder.

“He’s near,” she whispered.

Finn stiffened beside her. “Now?”

She nodded, throat dry.

Because the truth settled inside her with terrible certainty.

He wasn’t just in her dreams anymore.

He was close, she felt him.

A fire beneath her skin. Quiet. Unrelenting. Waiting to burn.