The constant stress of defiance and the lingering weight of the Alpha Scent began to take a toll. One night, Anya finally succumbed to exhaustion, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She awoke violently, gasping, her heart hammering. The air in the room was thick and cold, and the smell of pine was overpowering. She was still in the shared bed, but the terrifying image of a vast, desolate snowy plain and the sound of a lone wolf's mournful howl lingered in her mind.
She looked across the bed. Kaelan was awake, sitting bolt upright, his face drawn and slick with sweat. His blue eyes were wide, staring into the darkness.
"What was that?" Anya whispered, her voice tight.
Kaelan turned, his gaze locking onto hers with primal intensity. "You felt it. You saw it."
"The snow, the cold... the sheer loneliness," Anya confirmed, confusion overriding her fear.
"That," Kaelan stated, his voice raspy, "is the Mate Bond deepening. When the stress is high, our primal minds can connect in sleep. You just saw the weight of the Alpha's burden—the isolation of command."
He hadn't meant to share that moment of vulnerability, but the bond had exposed it.
The shared vision continued for several nights. Anya saw Kaelan's childhood—the brutal training, the constant pressure from the Council, the moment he was forced to execute his own Beta for treason. She saw the crushing expectation of the Pack, and the solitary nature of his life.
She still hated him, but the shared nightmares painted him not just as a monster, but as a deeply burdened creature, trapped by his own power. Her hatred was being corroded by empathy born from involuntary intimacy. Kaelan, too, began to observe her more closely, seeing the fear, but also the sharp intellect and stubborn defiance that she was trying to hide.