Ithilien knew she was tipsy the moment she told the driver where to go.
"McKenzie Drive."
Even hearing it out loud felt like crossing a line she hadn't fully thought through.
The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, clearly uncertain.
"You sure? There's nothing up there this late."
"I'm sure," she said, firm enough to shut down any further questions.
And she was.
At least in that moment.
He didn't argue after that.
By the time she stepped out onto the gravel road that climbed toward the house on the hill, the rain had already started to fall—light at first, then steadier, soaking into her hair, her clothes, her skin.
The road was empty.
Completely.
But Ithilien knew that wouldn't last.
Rain carried scent.
Spread it.
Amplified it.
And hers would reach him soon enough.
She started walking.
The gravel shifted under her steps, uneven and slick, the incline sharper than she remembered. The alcohol still dulled the edges of her thoughts, but not the purpose behind them.
She needed to talk to him. Set boundaries. End this before it turned into something worse.
Something she wouldn't be able to control.
If she had known how this night would end, she might have turned around right then. Might have walked back down that road without looking back. But she didn't.
So she kept going.
Kidd was waiting for her.
Of course he was.
He stood on the porch, one shoulder leaned lazily against the wooden column, a glass of whisky in his hand like he had all the time in the world.
Like he'd been expecting something.
Maybe not her.
But something.
The house behind him was warm with light—tall, open, framed by massive windows that looked out over the forest and the dark ribbon of the stream below. It was the kind of place that felt both grounded and untouchable.
Safe.
In a way that had nothing to do with locks or walls.
Ithilien slowed slightly as she approached, her gaze flicking over the structure before settling back on him.
It must be nice, she thought briefly, living somewhere like this.
"Didn't expect you at this hour," Kidd said as she came closer, his voice calm, edged with quiet amusement.
Ithilien let out a short breath.
"You didn't expect me at all," she shot back, stepping onto the porch without hesitation.
He huffed a soft laugh.
"Touché."
His eyes followed her as she glanced around, taking in the space, the details, the atmosphere. Not missing anything.
"Coming in?" he asked, pushing himself off the column.
"No," she answered immediately."…Actually, yes."
That earned a real laugh from him—low, brief, genuine.
"Make up your mind, Ithilien."
He stepped forward, opening the door for her.
She hesitated for a second. Kidd tilted his head slightly, watching her.
"We can talk out here," he said, almost lightly. "If you're afraid to come in."
Her eyes snapped to his instantly.
"I'm not afraid."
"Good," he said quietly.
She lifted her chin and walked past him into the house, her posture straight, controlled, every movement deliberate.
Kidd closed the door behind them, the soft click echoing faintly in the open space.
He watched her for a moment.
The tension in her shoulders. The way she carried herself like she was bracing for impact.
And something in his expression shifted.
This is going to be a very interesting night.
He followed her inside.
"Do you want something to drink?" Kidd asked as Ithilien sank into the long couch in the living room, almost disappearing into its softness.
She shook her head at first, but after a brief moment of hesitation she let out a quiet breath and changed her mind. "Actually… fine. I'll have one. Whisky."
A faint smile appeared on his lips, subtle but unmistakably amused.
"You're quite demanding."
"You have no idea," she replied dryly.
He poured the drink without another comment and handed it to her, their fingers brushing for just a second before he moved away. Instead of sitting beside her, he took a seat on the low table across from her, positioning himself close enough to watch her without obstruction.
"How was the party?" he asked casually.
She frowned slightly, clearly caught off guard.
"The party?"
"I'm assuming you came from one," he said, lifting his glass slightly. "You smell like alcohol."
She took a slow sip, letting the whisky settle in her system.
"It was… normal."
Her answer was brief, but the longer he looked at her—those steady amber eyes following every small movement—the more aware she became of the way she held herself, of the space between them, of the tension she hadn't fully shaken off.
"I didn't come here to talk about the party," she added, her tone sharpening just enough to draw a line.
"Then I'm listening," he said, straightening slightly, his attention now fully on her.
Ithilien nodded, though her gaze drifted for a moment before returning to him. Despite herself, she let her eyes trace the outline of his frame—the breadth of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretched over his chest—and for a fleeting second she remembered exactly how he felt under her hands. The memory came too easily, too vividly, and she had to swallow before forcing herself back to the present.
"First…" she began, clearing her throat quietly. "Thank you. For that night. If you hadn't shown up, I probably wouldn't have made it."
"Ithilien—" he started, his tone softer, but she immediately cut him off.
"Don't. Just let me finish."
There was something in her expression that made him stop, so he leaned back slightly and fell silent.
"That's the first thing," she continued, her fingers tightening subtly around the glass. "The second is… you and I."
She paused, choosing her words more carefully this time.
"You know there's something between us that shouldn't be there. Something… wrong."
The shift in him was almost imperceptible, but it was there. The ease disappeared, replaced by something more focused, more controlled.
"You also know my bond still exists," she went on, her voice quieter now, though no less firm. "It shouldn't—but it does. It won't last forever," she added after a moment. "Sooner or later, I'll break it. Ace will have to accept that."
"Sooner or later?" Kidd repeated, his voice lower now.
She glanced at him briefly.
"I was in Evergreen. You know that. I tried to end it, but Ace—" she exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "He won't even consider it."
Kidd let out a quiet, rough breath and took a sip of his whisky, his jaw tightening just slightly.
"He wants me back in Montana," Ithilien continued, her tone cooling as something harder settled into it. "As his—"
"His omega?" Kidd asked, watching her closely.
This time she held his gaze, and a faint, sharp smile curved her lips.
"As his whore."
The word lingered in the air, heavy and deliberate, and for a moment neither of them spoke, as if both were waiting to see what it would do to the other.
For a brief moment, something in Kidd's expression shifted so subtly that Ithilien almost thought she imagined it—until she looked into his eyes.
And then she saw it.
Something cold.
A strange, inhuman flicker passed through the amber of his gaze, so quick and yet so distinct that it sent a chill straight through her body. The warmth she had associated with him before was gone, replaced by something empty, stripped down to instinct and something far more dangerous beneath it.
Her breath caught.
For the first time since she'd walked into that house, she felt it—
fear.
Kidd didn't move much, but the stillness itself became unsettling. His face had gone completely neutral, devoid of the tension, the irritation, even the faint traces of amusement that had been there just moments before.
It was as if something inside him had gone quiet. He tilted his head slightly, studying her with unsettling calm.
"Tell me something, Ithilien," he said, his voice low and controlled in a way that made it worse, not better. "Do you want me to kill him for you?"