The full moon hung low and bright over the borderlands, turning the ridge into a knife-edge of silver and shadow.
Kael Voss stood alone at the top, coat discarded on a rock, sleeves rolled to his elbows. The night air bit at his bare forearms. He welcomed the sting—it kept his head clear. Tomorrow's summit would be the usual theater: alphas posturing, shaking hands while mentally measuring each other's jugulars. Power was never as solid as people pretended.
He rolled his shoulders, restless. Something felt off tonight, though he couldn't pin it down.
He inhaled slowly, sorting the familiar night smells: wet earth, distant pine, the faint copper of some animal's fresh kill far off. Ordinary. Dull.
Then the breeze turned.
A new scent cut through—cedar smoke after rain, hot metal, worn leather. Underneath it, something darker, richer: skin-warmed musk, the kind that hits low in the gut right before a fight turns into something else.
Kael's body reacted instantly. Heat surged south, his cock thickening hard and fast, pressing uncomfortably against his zipper. A damp spot bloomed against the fabric. His pulse hammered in his throat.
He froze. "What the fuck," he breathed.
The scent grew stronger. Closer.
He scanned the treeline. Shadows shifted.
Then Ronan Blackthorn stepped into the moonlight.
No entourage. Just Ronan—tall, broad-shouldered, shirtless, jeans riding dangerously low on his hips, showing the sharp V of muscle disappearing beneath the waistband. Dark hair wild from the wind, amber eyes catching the light like they held their own fire.
Ronan stopped at the base of the ridge. He tilted his head, inhaled deeply, pulling Kael's scent into his lungs. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. He didn't speak at first—just let his gaze travel up Kael's body: throat, chest, hips. It lingered shamelessly on the obvious erection straining against Kael's jeans.
Heat crawled up Kael's neck. He felt stripped bare.
Ronan's voice carried up the slope, low and rough, edged with that old, mocking familiarity. "Still get hard this fast for me, Kael? Thought you'd outgrown it after all these years."
The way he said Kael's name—like it still belonged in his mouth—twisted something sharp in Kael's gut.
Ronan took a lazy step forward. The thick ridge of his own arousal was unmistakable against the denim. "I can practically smell how bad you want it from here. Already leaking through your pants. Bet you're clenching just thinking about it. Or are you still pretending you don't miss me inside you?"
Kael launched himself down the ridge in a single controlled leap, landing close enough that their combined heat and scent collided like a storm front.
Up close, Ronan was overwhelming—body radiating warmth, eyes dark with challenge and memory. The same look that used to unravel Kael and still did.
"You think you can stroll back across the line after everything and talk like that?" Kael closed the last inch until their chests brushed. "I could end you before you blink."
Ronan didn't flinch. He leaned in, lips hovering near Kael's ear, breath hot. "You could try. But we both know what you really want. Me holding you down again. Spreading you open. Filling you until you're shaking and begging for it the way you used to pretend you never would."
The words hit like a punch. Kael's vision tunneled. His hand snapped up, fingers wrapping around Ronan's throat—not choking, just pinning. Nails dug in enough to leave red crescents. A thin bead of blood welled.
Ronan let out a low, rough sound, hips rocking forward in one deliberate grind. Their cocks brushed through fabric. Pleasure lanced through Kael so sharp he nearly groaned aloud.
Ronan licked his lips, tasting the charged air between them. "Feel that? That's years of unfinished business reminding you. Go ahead—fight it. Makes it hotter when you finally break."
Kael shoved him back. Ronan stumbled but caught his balance, laughing low and dark.
"Run along, rogue," Kael snarled, voice wrecked. "Before I decide to remind you who's in charge."
Ronan's eyes flashed. "Next time we cross paths, alpha. One of us is ending up under the other. And we both know it won't be me on my knees."
He turned and melted back into the shadows.
Kael stood rooted, heart slamming, cock still throbbing painfully, Ronan's blood sticky on his fingers and his scent coating every breath he took.
Old anger, old want, old wounds—all of it roaring back to life.
This wasn't just lust.
It was unfinished business.
And Kael had no intention of leaving it that way.