After Zara fled, Kaelan stood rigid, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The residual intensity of his primal rage was still coursing through the bond, making Anya tremble. The defense was necessary, but the sheer violence of his protection was terrifying.
"She won't challenge you again," Kaelan stated, still facing the door, controlling his breathing.
Anya noticed something else. His left hand, which had gripped Zara's wrist, was shaking violently. She saw a faint tremor running through his massive forearm.
"Your hand," she said, curiosity overriding caution. "It's shaking."
Kaelan quickly jammed the hand into his pocket, his face hardening. "It's nothing. Adrenaline."
"It's not adrenaline. It's too rhythmic," Anya pressed, her technical brain analyzing the tremor.
"Alpha Command: Show me your hand."
She mentally scoffed at the useless command, but she wanted to see his reaction.
Kaelan didn't move, but the Mate Bond flared with irritation. "Do not misuse the command, Mate."
"Then show me your hand," she repeated.
With a sigh of frustration, Kaelan slowly withdrew his hand. His knuckles were bruised, and the tremor was visible. "It's a residual nerve strain from a past fight," he admitted, his voice low. "It only acts up when I exert maximum control."
Anya reached out, gently taking his huge hand. She saw the scar tissue beneath his skin. This wasn't a Lycan wound; it was a physical, human weakness.
"You need a proper brace and therapy," she murmured, tracing the scar.
The contact was unexpected and non-sexual. Kaelan's breathing hitched, and the bond transmitted a powerful, confusing wave of shame mixed with acceptance. He was accustomed to dominance, not to a Mate tending to his physical flaw. Anya had found the human beneath the Alpha.