We begin as the sun rises.

  Pale light spills through the trees, warming the clearing in soft, uneven bands. Morning feels gentler than night, quieter somehow, as if the world itself is holding still to watch. We settle beside the murmuring spring again, water slipping over stone in a steady rhythm that sinks beneath my skin.

  The breeze is stronger today. It tugs loose strands of my fiery hair free, whipping them across my face, tickling and distracting all at once.

  Azrael has me listening for my wolf’s breath.

  It comes easier this time.

  I find her immediately, tucked just beneath my awareness, and match my breathing to hers without effort. Slow. Steady. In and out.

  Then the heartbeat.

  I can hear it now. I can feel it. A deep, steady thrum beneath my ribs, solid and sure. I focus, letting the rhythm guide me, trying to match my heartbeat to hers.

  Fear sparks suddenly in the back of my mind.

  What if I lose control again?

  What if she takes over?

  At what point will I no longer be able to pull myself back?

  My wolf stirs at the weakness. Irritation rolls through me like heat, sharp and immediate. A low growl vibrates beneath my skin.

  I clamp down on the fear and try to refocus, but it is already too late.

  She is awake now. Alert. Annoyed.

  “Before you bond,” Azrael says quietly, sensing the shift, “I need to tell you how to maintain control. To keep from losing yourself.”

  I keep my eyes closed, afraid opening them will shatter what little balance I still have.

  “The feeling will be euphoric,” he continues. “You noticed that before. It will pull you in. Seduce you. You will want to stay there.”

  My throat tightens.

  “But you need to resist.”

  “How?” I whisper.

  “Acknowledge her feelings,” he says. “Her desires. Her emotions. But understand they are hers, not yours. Then focus on yourself. Anchor to something that grounds you. A moment you felt certain.”

  “What if I think of something that makes me anxious?” I ask quietly. “Or scared?”

  “In this stage,” he says calmly, “that is acceptable. When you link with your wolf, you are allowed to exist as two minds. Two emotional truths. She must acknowledge you as well.”

  My chest tightens. “What if she doesn’t?”

  “Make her,” he replies, not harshly, but firm. “Show her you are strong. Even when you are afraid. Show her you can protect both of you, even if you are flooded with erratic emotions.”

  He pauses.

  “Master the feeling. Acknowledge it.”

  Then, softer, “And let it go.”

  I swallow hard. “I’ll try.”

  I return my focus to her heartbeat.

  I feel her attention turn inward, pressing against mine, curious now instead of irritated. As I work to match my rhythm to hers, her tension eases. Steady. Calm. Unyielding.

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  When our heartbeats finally align, euphoria crashes through me.

  I am drawn into her again.

  I feel her longing to be free, her fierce need to be close to Azrael, her relentless drive to protect us. She is not my enemy. She never was.

  She is my shield.

  My guardian.

  But her emotions are vast. Overwhelming. They swell until they threaten to swallow me whole, and I struggle to keep my footing. I search desperately for a memory to anchor myself to, something clean and solid.

  But my past is a tangled mess of half truths and stolen pieces.

  There is nothing clean to hold.

  “It’s not working,” I manage, my voice strained.

  “Control your breath,” Azrael says calmly. “You’re steering the ship. You decide what happens next.”

  I breathe harder, chest heaving as if I have been running for miles. The push and pull between us intensifies, brutal and relentless.

  I think of Kellan.

  My heart stutters.

  So does hers.

  She mirrors me now. Her breath follows mine. Her heartbeat echoes my own.

  I cling to the memory of his arms around me. The warmth of his chest. His fingers in my hair. The quiet comfort of being held.

  My breathing slows. My chest loosens.

  Then the memory shifts to...

  My dream.

  What if he believes I left him?

  What if he thinks I chose this? Chose another man?

  The thought twists inside me, sharp and vicious.

  Fear detonates.

  My heartbeat spikes wildly as panic floods my veins. My hands tremble, fingers curling involuntarily.

  “Lirian,” Azrael says gently. “It’s just an emotion. Temporary. Acknowledge it. Then let it go.”

  I try.

  I really try.

  But the effort becomes suffocating. My wolf bristles, irritation boiling into fury. She lashes out, claws tearing at my chest, teeth sinking into my throat.

  I cannot breathe.

  I cannot move.

  She has me.

  “Breathe,” Azrael says more firmly. “Slow. Steady.”

  “I can’t,” I choke.

  My eyes fly open as she forces us upright.

  Not this again.

  She drives us forward, lunging toward Azrael. He steps back, just out of reach. A growl rips from my chest, raw and furious.

  She wants him.

  Violently.

  She tries again.

  I lock my legs.

  Pain explodes. She tears through me from the inside, shredding muscle and bone until I think I might break. I reach for Azrael, arm shaking.

  “Please,” I choke. “I’m scared.”

  “You can do this,” he says quietly. “Remember who’s in charge.”

  “She is,” I gasp.

  “You are.”

  “I’m not,” I whisper. “I’m not.”

  “You are,” he says, steady and sure. “I believe in you.”

  That is what enrages her most.

  She recoils, seething at his refusal to come closer, at his restraint. Her anger tightens, colder now. Deliberate.

  I fight harder, forcing myself to slow. To steady.

  All I want is to collapse into his arms.

  I cannot tell if that need is hers or mine.

  “Please,” I beg again, stepping forward of my own will. “I need you.”

  He steps back.

  The rejection slices deep.

  Is he afraid of me?

  Disappointed?

  Why won’t he help me?

  The truth hits all at once.

  No one is coming to save me.

  My mouth goes dry. I draw in a slow, deliberate breath. Then another.

  The world goes eerily quiet.

  No wind.

  No birds.

  Even the stream seems to still.

  She pushes.

  I push back.

  Every muscle locks tight, tendons screaming as I bear down with everything I have. My nails bite into my palms until blood slips between my fingers.

  You will not have me.

  You will not take control.

  I am the master of this ship.

  I will protect us.

  Trust me.

  The strain makes my vision pulse. My head throbs. My heartbeat roars in my ears.

  And then, just as suddenly as it began, she falters.

  Her assault stops.

  She retreats, curling back into herself with a huff of irritation.

  I crumple.

  My knees give out. I fold forward, gasping for air as if I have been holding my breath for hours. My body shakes violently as moss and sky blur together.

  The last thing I hear before darkness takes me is Azrael’s voice, low and awed.

  “Well done.”