Josie
I couldn't sleep.
I'd tried. Gods, I'd really tried. Tossing, turning, curling into the covers, then throwing them off when they felt too heavy. The ceiling stared back at me with the same silence I'd been trying to outrun. I even whispered my own name like it might tether me to the present, but everything about tonight refused to sit right in my chest.
A restless ache pulsed under my skin, and before I could talk myself out of it, I threw back the covers and reached for my robe—the blue one I liked. It was soft, long enough to cover my legs, and it smelled faintly of the citrus soap I used earlier that day. I tied it tight around my waist like it might hold me together, and quietly pushed open the door to the hall.
The corridors were hushed, dim. Light spilled gently from the sconces, painting the walls in warm golds and soft shadows. The floor was cold under my bare feet, but I didn't stop. I told myself I just needed air. That I was wandering. Not looking.
Not for him.
Even after all this time in the pack house, I still didn't know where my mates' rooms were. Not really. I'd never gone looking. Never dared. And for a while, that had felt like a good thing. Boundaries. Space.
But tonight? The not-knowing clawed at my skin. Made me feel hollow. Or maybe that was guilt. Or confusion. Or all of it tangled together.
I turned a corner—quiet as I could—and that's when I heard it.
Singing.
Low. Smooth. Soft, like the kind of lullaby no one was supposed to hear. Each note curled around the edges of the walls like mist.
I froze.
My heart thudded once, heavy and loud.
That voice… I knew it. Knew it the same way I knew the rhythm of my own breath.
Kiel.
A pang shot through me—sharp, unwelcome. Why was he singing so late? Did he sing often? Had I just never noticed before?
My first instinct was to turn back. To pretend I hadn't heard anything. After what happened earlier… after the way I thanked him and then bolted like some terrified animal… I had no business being near him.
But I didn't turn.
I stood there like an idiot, listening.
And then I moved. Just one step, too quick, too clumsy.
Crash.
The sound of shattering porcelain sliced through the quiet like a blade.
"Oh no," I whispered, heart leaping into my throat.
I looked down in horror. A flower vase—tall, delicate—lay in ruin across the hallway. Broken petals and water soaked the floor, and my bare toes tingled from the cold.
Panicking, I crouched and started fumbling with the pieces, trying to gather them before the noise drew anyone's attention. But my hands were shaking, and the shards kept slipping through my fingers.
"Careful."
The voice came from behind me—smooth, calm, unmistakable.
I froze.
No.
I turned my head slowly.
Kiel.
And gods help me—he was shirtless.
A loose pair of dark slacks clung low on his hips, and the soft glow from the sconces painted his torso in golden shadow and light. He looked like some ancient statue come to life, all sculpted muscle and sleepy disapproval. His silver hair was messy, like he'd just run a hand through it, and his eyes—those sharp, bright eyes—were focused entirely on me.
He crouched down beside me with that same quiet confidence, gathering the pieces without a word.
"I—" I started, but the words caught.
He placed a few broken pieces on a nearby table before glancing at me, head tilted slightly, expression unreadable.
"I wasn't… I wasn't looking for you," I blurted, face flaming.
He blinked once. Then his mouth tugged into something that looked suspiciously like a smile. "That's the part you start with?"
I winced. "No—I mean—yes. I mean… I wasn't seeking you out."
"Mmhmm."
"I heard someone singing and—well—I just wanted to know who it was. That's all."
Kiel raised a brow. "Who else in this entire house sings like that, Josie?"
"I didn't think it through," I snapped, immediately regretting the sharpness.
He chuckled softly, standing to his full height. I stood too, though I felt infinitely smaller.
"That's even worse," he said. "So you heard a mystery voice in the middle of the night, and you went wandering into it?"
"I wasn't wandering," I grumbled, crossing my arms. "I was just… curious."
"Right," he drawled. "Because curiosity makes people crash flower vases."
I groaned, covering my face with one hand. "Fine. I heard you. I wondered. I came out. Happy?"
He looked at me, head tilted slightly. "Not really. You make terrible arguments."
My hands dropped to my sides in frustration. "You're impossible."
"And you're loud," he said with a smirk. "Come in."
"What?" I blinked.
He was already walking toward an open door. His office, I guessed.
"You already made a mess," he said without turning around. "Might as well trespass properly."
I hesitated.
But I followed him.
Because something in me—something small and reckless—wanted to stay in his orbit a little longer.
The office surprised me. It was a mix of elegant chaos and quiet emotion. Books filled the shelves and spilled onto the floor. A guitar leaned casually against a polished piano. Framed photographs lined the wall—some of landscapes, others of people I didn't recognize. There was a smell in the air—cedar and ink and something warmer beneath.
Kiel walked over to a table near the window.
"What are you doing up so late?" I asked, stepping in further.
He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."
"Same," I murmured.
"Figured."
That's when I saw it.
The box of tissues beside him.
And the red.
Blood.
My chest tightened. "What happened?"
He didn't look up. "Nothing. It's fine."
But I was already moving.
I reached for his hand without thinking, pulling it toward me. "Are you hurt? Did you—did you cut yourself on the vase?"
"Josie, I said it's—"
"You're bleeding," I said frantically, fingers brushing over his knuckles. "Is it bad? Let me see."
He went still.
Completely still.
I looked up—
And my heart stuttered.
He was staring at me.
Not like before. Not amused or annoyed.
But intense. Like I'd stepped too close to a fire and it decided I was worth burning.
His eyes locked onto mine, and my mouth went dry.
I forgot how to breathe.
Forgot why I'd touched him.
Forgot everything except the way he looked at me like I wasn't broken. Like I was real.
My hand was still in his. My skin suddenly felt too hot. My pulse hammered in my throat.
The silence stretched.
Thick with everything I didn't know how to say.
And still—he didn't look away.
And neither did I.