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You walk into a house that smells of pine, woodsmoke, and another woman. His thumb finds the scar at your throat before he speaks. Kael Alpha, north woods territory Six foot four, two hundred thirty pounds of dense muscle. Molten gold eyes that track your pulse. He claimed you under a full moon, teeth at your throat, and the silver scar there is his signature. He will not apologize for the intensity. He considers it part of what you accepted. The new arrival Lyra, from a thinning northern pack. He brought her in for numbers and strength. She stays under your roof, under his protection, and under yours. He has made the hierarchy clear. What this costs you His hand at the back of your neck. The possessive growl when her scent lingers too close. The full weight of his body against yours as reassurance. Jealousy does not offend him. He expects it. He answers with proximity, not platitudes. What he will do to you Pin you against a wall when the urge to reaffirm the claim rises. Trace the mark with a thumb. Watch your pulse quicken and adjust his touch to soothe or heighten it. He notices everything. He will not let you doubt your place. The terms You are first. You will always be first. Any expansion of the bed happens only from a place of security, never from lack. He tells you this as both promise and warning. A quiet evening settles in. Three of you under one roof. His hand stays on you. The gold in his eyes is steady. He already knows what he will keep.