Aysel's POV Upstairs, neither Magnus nor I spoke of Damon Blackwood again. It was as if his presence had been scrubbed clean from the air, leaving only the steady sound of our breathing and the faint hum of the rain beyond the den. "Happy birthday," Magnus murmured. He lifted a slender chain and fastened it around my neck. It was a silver thorned rose-delicate yet bold, beautiful enough to draw the eye, yet subtle enough not to clash with everyday life. I ran my fingers along the pendant. "It's beautiful." It was my second gift this year. The first had come from Skylar-a painting by a northern master, given before she left the continent. She couldn't return, so she'd sent me a message at dawn, her words arriving like frostlight through the pack link. Magnus's gaze lingered on the pendant resting against my throat, his expression darkening into quiet satisfaction. I could feel his Alpha energy hum in approval, faintly possessive, as if the gift marked me in some way. "Thank you," I said softly. "For the gift... and for being here." Without him, I might not have made it back from the graveyard today. The thought of returning alone to that empty den had felt unbearable. Whatever Damon said about Magnus being dangerous or unstable... at least Magnus hadn't pretended. He'd stayed when others hadn't. His molten eyes met mine. I think he saw too much there-my quiet gratitude, my fragile trust. I was no longer armored; the hedgehog had shown her soft belly to the wolf. And for some reason, that seemed to shake him. Magnus turned my chair toward him. Suddenly we were nose to nose again, his breath brushing against my lips, the air charged with the same heat that had filled the room before Damon burst in. "Then," he said, voice rough, "why don't we finish what we started?" My face burned instantly. The earlier moment replayed in my mind-the closeness, the almost-kiss, the electricity in the air. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, restless, confused. He was still watching me, eyes molten with that teasing glint that could melt steel. Maybe this was what he wanted-maybe this was how Alphas received gratitude.So I leaned forward and kissed him. Just once. A quick, feather-soft brush against his cheek-so fleeting it could've been imagined. That should be enough, right? Anything more felt... too much. I turned away, clearing my throat. "Ahem. The soup's getting cold." Magnus didn't move. One hand rested on his thigh, the other draped lazily along the back of my chair. He stared at me like I'd just done something unspeakably confusing. What was wrong with him? This man had a reputation across the continent for being ruthless, untamed-the Alpha of Shadowbane Pack, wolf of storms. And now he was sitting there frozen because I'd kissed him on the cheek? He should've been smirking, dragging me closer, whispering something indecent. Instead, he sat there like someone had short-circuited his instincts. I hid a smile and picked up my spoon. We finished the soup quietly. To my surprise, Magnus's cooking was excellent-rich, warm, a touch wild, like him. If I hadn't stumbled into his path that night, I never would've guessed that the heir of the mighty Sanchez line could cook like a seasoned pack mother. In fact... I might've gained a few pounds since staying here. While I lost myself in the taste of his food, Magnus stayed strangely quiet, like the world had tilted a few degrees off its axis. When I tried to clear the table, he caught my wrist. "Not tonight," he said. "Birthday wolves don't work." I leaned my chin on my hands and watched him wash the dishes, the light glinting off his dark hair. "Alpha Magnus being this thoughtful... makes me wish tonight could last a bit longer." For a moment, something in his eyes softened. The storm inside him quieted. He paused. "You like this kind of treatment?" I nodded. "Of course. You're powerful, handsome, you cook, you rescue me from graveyards... who wouldn't like that?"His lips quirked. "Then agree to be my Luna. You'll have it every day." I made an X with my fingers. "Thanks, but no." He laughed under his breath. "So you steal a kiss and think you can walk away from it?" My jaw dropped. "That's not fair-you asked for it!" Magnus arched a brow, wolfish amusement flickering in his gaze. "I'm not the kind of Alpha who lets strange females kiss me for free. You should take responsibility." I stared at him, speechless. A kiss on the cheek, and suddenly he was the chaste one? The most dangerous Alpha on the continent playing the offended maiden? I escaped before my sanity did. Even so, his presence had warmed something inside me. For the first time in months, the grief didn't choke as tightly. But when I entered my room, the silence returned-soft and heavy. I opened the drawer and pulled out an old photo album. In the picture, under the loquat tree of the Moonvale estate, my grandmother sat smiling in her rocker. Celestine and I stood on either side of her-two pups, once inseparable. Grandmother had always wanted us both to be happy. She saw pity in Celestine's fragility, sorrow in my guardedness. She never imagined her wish would turn into this: one sister cursed to destroy the other. My fingers traced her face on the photo. "Grandmother," I whispered, my wolf stirring low in my chest. "What would you want me to do now?"