Betrayed By One. Bound To Three

Selena.

I crouched by the fire, blowing gently into the fading embers, willing it to catch before they found something else to complain about.

The fire crackled softly in front of me, the only steady sound in the space, and I focused on it more than I needed to, watching the way the flames shifted and bent as though that alone could keep my thoughts from wandering too far.

Ronan and Edris had left earlier to hunt, their absence leaving behind something I could not quite name. It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t comfort.

It was simply... space. Space that felt unfamiliar, almost wrong, because it left only one presence behind.

Kael.

I could feel him without looking. I had learned to. Every shift in the air, every quiet movement behind me, every breath that did not belong to me settled into my awareness whether I wanted it to or not. He hadn’t said a word since they left, and somehow that silence carried more weight than anything he could have said.

I stayed near the fire, doing what I had been told, stirring the pot slowly as it simmered, the faint scent of herbs rising into the air.

My movements were careful, controlled, my attention fixed on the task as though it required all of me, even though I knew that wasn’t true.

It was easier to focus on something simple than to acknowledge the way my body remained tense, aware of him in a way I could not shut off.

Just finish it. Do not make a mistake.

The thought came automatically, a quiet warning I had repeated to myself too many times to count, but it did not matter. My grip shifted slightly, my hand slipping just enough for the pot to tilt, and before I could correct it, the liquid spilled over the edge and splashed against my wrist.

The pain came instantly, sharp and hot, searing through my skin before I could pull back. A breath caught in my throat, but I swallowed it down, refusing to let it turn into a sound. My fingers curled instinctively, my body reacting even as I tried to stay still.

"What are you doing?"

Kael’s voice cut through the silence, low and edged, and I felt my chest tighten as I forced myself to respond.

"It slipped," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

I didn’t need to turn to know he was closer. I felt it in the way the air shifted, in the way my body seemed to register his presence before my mind did.

"You cannot even manage something this simple without making a mess," he said, his tone controlled but carrying that familiar irritation. "Careless. Clumsy."

The words should have landed the way they always did, sharp and expected, but they didn’t feel as heavy this time. Maybe because the pain on my skin was louder. Maybe because I was too tired to let them sink in the same way.

"I am sorry," I said, lowering my gaze.

There was a pause, just long enough for me to think he would leave it there, that he would turn away like always and let the moment pass without meaning anything more.

But he didn’t.

"Let me see."

I froze, the words unexpected not because of what they were, but because of how they were said. There was no edge to them, no harshness, just a quiet instruction that didn’t match what I had come to expect from him.

For a second, I hesitated, then slowly extended my hand, my fingers still trembling faintly as I held it out.

He stepped closer, and this time there was no distance left to hide behind. His hand closed around my wrist, firm enough to steady it, but not rough, not careless. He turned it slightly, his gaze fixed on the reddening skin where the burn had already begun to rise.

For a moment, he said nothing.

And in that silence, something shifted.

It was small, almost unnoticeable, but it was there in the way his grip adjusted, in the way his fingers settled more carefully against my skin, as though he had become aware of how easily he could hurt me and chose not to.

"You should have been paying attention," he said, but the words no longer carried the same weight. They felt... thinner, like something said out of habit rather than intention.

"I was," I replied quietly. "I just—"

"Stay here."

He let go before I could finish, the sudden absence of his touch sharper than I expected, leaving behind something I could not name. I watched him move toward the back of the cave, his steps steady, his expression unreadable, and I remained where I was, my hand lowered slowly as my thoughts tangled in ways that didn’t make sense.

He came back a moment later with something in his hand, and without a word, he took my wrist again, more deliberate this time, as though the decision had already been made.

The cool paste touched my skin, spreading gently over the burn, and the relief came almost immediately, a quiet contrast to the heat that had been building beneath it.

I let out a small breath before I could stop myself.

His fingers stilled for a second, just long enough for me to notice, before continuing, slower now, more careful.

"Do not make a habit of this," he said, his voice low, but there was no bite to it anymore. "You are already more trouble than you are worth."

Even that didn’t land the way it should have, because his hand had not pulled away, because his touch had not turned harsh again, because something in the space between us had changed without permission.

His thumb brushed lightly against the inside of my wrist as he finished, a small, almost absent movement that felt too familiar, too close to something I had once known.

My breath caught, and I couldn’t stop it this time.

The silence between us shifted, softening in a way that felt dangerous, like something fragile trying to exist where it no longer belonged.

His gaze lifted to mine.

And it wasn’t cold.

It wasn’t distant.

It was something else entirely, something I hadn’t seen in so long that it took me a second to recognize it.

It felt like being seen again.

Not as something to control.

Not as something to break.

But as me.

My chest tightened, my heart reacting before I could stop it, before I could remind myself of everything that had changed, everything that had been taken, everything that should have made this impossible.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like he was giving himself time to stop.

He didn’t.

I should have stepped back.

I should have moved.

But I didn’t.

Because some part of me still remembered him.

Because some part of me still knew what this felt like.

His hand lifted, brushing against my jaw, tilting my face upward, and the touch was gentle in a way that hurt more than anything else had in months. It was careful, familiar, achingly right in a way that made everything else feel wrong.

My breath faltered.

"Kael..." I tried, but the word barely formed.

His gaze dropped to my lips, and the world narrowed to something smaller, quieter, as though everything outside of this moment had lost its weight.

I could feel the bond then.

Not twisted.

Not strained.

But alive.

Pulling.

Recognizing.

It wasn’t just me.

It was him too.

I saw it in the way his expression shifted, in the way something real broke through the control he held so tightly, in the way his hand didn’t move away.

He leaned in.

Slowly.

Close enough that I could feel his breath, warm and steady, close enough that I knew if I moved even slightly, everything would change.

And for a moment...

I wanted it to.

Then—

"Kael."

Nyra’s voice cut through the cave like something sharp and unwelcome, tearing through the moment before it could become anything more.

It didn’t just interrupt.

It destroyed it.

Kael pulled back immediately, like the connection between us had burned him, like whatever had just existed needed to be erased before it could be seen.

His hand dropped from my face.

The warmth disappeared.

Everything that had softened in his expression hardened again in an instant, replaced by something colder, something controlled, something that felt like a wall slamming back into place.

Nyra stood at the entrance, her gaze moving between us slowly, her eyes sharp with awareness, with understanding, with something that looked dangerously close to satisfaction.

She had seen enough.

Of course she had.

Kael turned away from me completely, his voice returning to what it had always been, as though the past few seconds had never happened.

"Watch what you are doing," he said. "I will not repeat myself."

The words landed harder now.

Not because of what they were.

But because of what they replaced.

My chest tightened, something fragile settling back into place, something that had almost risen only to be pushed down again before it could fully exist.

Nyra smiled faintly.

Not kindly.

But like someone who had just taken something from me and enjoyed it.

And I knew then, with a clarity that hurt more than the burn on my skin ever could—

Whatever still existed between us...

She would make sure it never happened again.