Third Person's POV Magnus still ended up leaving the continent under Aysel's silent, amber-eyed watch. Ever since the two of them had finally torn down the thin veil between them and confessed their bond, the Alpha of the Shadowbane Pack had become nearly impossible to restrain. The Rafe-wolf in his blood-ancient, dominant, notoriously possessive-had awakened fully, prowling greedily just beneath his skin. His restraint had always been precarious. But now? Now it was ashes. For days, Magnus had been tense, simmering, prowling around her like a storm that refused to break. He had wanted-no, needed-to mark Aysel properly, to sink his fangs into the soft juncture of her neck and claim her as his mate before he left. But first she had caught a chill from the rain; then her cycle brought its own discomfort. Every day that passed, the ticking clock to his departure gnawed at him like a starving beast. By the eve of his flight, the Alpha was half-feral with longing. That night, he abandoned the last threads of his self-control. He pushed her gently-yet with unmistakable Alpha strength-into the soft bedding, caging her beneath him. His touch was heated, reverent, and hungry all at once; his breath fanned against her neck, where the faint pulse of her unclaimed Luna-mark drove him mad. His wolf rumbled in his chest, a sound halfway between plea and command. "Aysel... let me hold you," he murmured against her skin, voice low and roughened by longing. "Just tonight. Until I come back. Then I won't ever leave your side again." Her protests were soft, breathless, helpless against the intensity of his presence. His scent-dark cedar, shadow-wolf musk, and a hint of cold steel-wrapped tightly around her, seeping into her senses. His arms locked around her waist with unshakeable devotion, as though letting go even for a moment would tear something vital from him. By the time the night deepened, Aysel was boneless with exhaustion, half-asleep against her pillows. She did too much ‘hands work' for Magnus. Yet Magnus remained restless-twitching, nuzzling, breathing her in with a desperation that bordered on worship. Dawn barely brushed the edges of the sky when he should have risen for his flight. Instead, he dragged her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her Moonvale scent like an addict savoring his last dose. When she still didn't wake, Magnus finally lifted his head and pressed his mouth to hers-slow, lingering, claiming. His lips moved with a kind of hungry tenderness, the kind that made the mark-hunger in him pulse dangerously. Aysel, sore and exhausted, eventually snapped. She lifted a foot and kicked the powerful Alpha straight off the bed. The heir of the Shadowbane Pack hit the carpeted floor with a solid thud. Magnus hissed softly-but instead of anger, amusement glinted in his dark eyes. He rubbed his tailbone, then slinked right back into bed with the stubbornness of a wolf refusing to be denied. Before Aysel could react, he dipped down and stole another fierce, heated kiss from her lips, almost smug about it. Only when the rising sun glowed gold outside the window-and the time became dangerously tight-did he finally relent. Panting lightly, sweat-dark hair falling over his brow, Magnus hovered above her and growled softly, "Aysel Vale... when I return, I'll settle every bit of this with you. You're finished." She rolled her eyes, voice soft and hoarse from fatigue. "Go. Now." He let out a disgruntled rumble-but his gaze overflowed with tenderness. Carefully avoiding the spots he knew were sore, Magnus tucked the blanket around her, brushing a gentle thumb over her cheek before slipping off the bed. He washed up in record time and returned to grab his luggage-only for his sharp Alpha senses to land on something draped at the foot of the bed. A small, delicate piece of laced fabric underwear. Pink. Soft. Carrying her scent. He froze. Then-like a guilty wolf pup-he glanced at the sleeping Aysel. Before he could talk himself out of it, the Shadowbane Alpha snatched the garment, clutching it to his chest like a stolen treasure. He slipped it into the side pocket of his luggage, patting it flat and zipping it shut with absurd care. By the time he walked downstairs, he wore an expression of cold, noble composure-like the unapproachable heir he usually was.Jackson, waiting by the door, nearly dropped his keys from shock. Since when did the Shadowbane Alpha behave like a pristine highborn statue in his own home? Yet the farther the car drove from the safehouse, the sharper and colder Magnus's aura became-Alpha temper frigid with separation. Jackson wisely kept silent. He, too, liked his annual bonus. Once the clinging Alpha wolf finally departed, Aysel slept for two full days, regaining her strength. Then she returned to her quiet routine-painting, catching up on dramas, chatting with Skylar, who was still overseas battling business schemes and rival packs. In the evenings, she and Magnus video-called regularly. Both he and Skylar tried to convince her to travel abroad with them. Skylar nearly cheered when Aysel mentioned she might visit. She had been bored out of her mind abroad, missing every possible scandal back home. Celestine Ward thrown into prison? Skylar had wanted front-row seats. Even more aggravating was that, during her absence, Magnus had shamelessly stolen Aysel right out from beneath her watch. Only weeks before, at a loud bar, Skylar had sworn Aysel viewed Magnus purely as a "generous benefactor she couldn't reject." Now they were sharing a den. Skylar mourned dramatically... But being ahead in the "companionship competition" soothed her ego. A little. Still, travel had to wait. Both women had responsibilities; Skylar was scheduled for a half-month joint-pack trip. Aysel stayed home, painting in serene isolation, until the day arrived for her former classmates' reunion-an event hosted by a wildly successful alum who had booked the entire Mistyhowl Mountain Lodge for the night.