Page 8 of Mated By Sunrise

Rochelle's pulse pounded in her ears. She could hear her own breathing—sharp, uneven—and beneath that, the soft creak of the floorboards as she shifted her weight. The only sound in theroom was the soft rustle of the curtains as a faint breeze slipped through the open window. The scent of the woods lingered, earthy and familiar, mixed with the faintest hint of Caleb’s scent—pine, musk, and wildness.

Her hands trembled as she pressed her fingers to her lips, as if trying to hold in the emotions swirling inside her. She wasn’t scared. She knew Caleb would never hurt her. Not physically. Not in any way that would make her feel unsafe. But his anger—his words—had cut through her, leaving her raw and exposed.

Rochelle’s chest tightened as the weight of it settled on her. The bond. The thing she had fought against for so long, denying it because she needed her independence, her freedom. She needed to make her own choices, to live her life without being tied to anyone else. And Caleb had always respected that—or so she thought.

But tonight, he had let her see the truth. He had let her see just how much her distance, her stubbornness, had hurt him. And it hurt her to know it.

Why did it have to be like this? She had simply assumed that Caleb would follow her. He always had, after all. He found her every full moon, no matter where she was. He’d rearranged his life around hers for years without ever asking for more.

She had assumed too much, hadn’t she? She had assumed that Caleb’s patience was endless, that he’d always wait for her, always come to her. That he’d never ask for anything more than what she was willing to give. But now…

Now he was asking. No—demanding.

Rochelle’s shock began to fade, and in its place, anger simmered. The heat of it rose in her chest, igniting a stubborn flame. She was not going to let him dictate her life. She was not going to be boxed into the bond, no matter how strong it was. No matter how much it tugged at her, deep inside, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

She punched her foot into her clothing. She jammed her shirt over her head. She kicked into her shoes.

How dare he think he could demand this from her? How dare he storm out like that, like she was supposed to just fall in line because of some bond? She had a career, a future she’d worked for, and she wasn’t going to let anyone take that from her. Not even Caleb.

She was leaving. She was taking that promotion, and she wasn’t going to let anyone—not even her fated mate—stop her from living her life on her terms.

Caleb didn’t own her. The bond didn’t own her.

She was leaving. She had to leave. She had to show him that she could live her own life without the bond pulling her in.

But as she stepped toward the door, her hand hovering over the handle, she hesitated.

For the first time, the thought of leaving didn’t feel like freedom.

It felt like a loss.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Caleb's mind was elsewhere as he walked through the center of town. The familiar weight of the morning settled around him, the soft rustling of leaves in the nearby trees, the distant chatter of townsfolk going about their day. Normally, this routine would ground him, but today, everything felt off.

His feet moved on autopilot, leading him toward the same place he went every morning: the bench in front of the bank. The one where he always sat, pretending to blend in with the flow of town life, but really there for one reason: Rochelle.

For years, it had been part of his routine, watching over her without her knowing. A quiet sentinel, making sure she was safe, even if she didn’t want him to. Even if she didn’t acknowledge the bond. But this morning, after their heated exchange the night before, his steps faltered.

The memory of her hesitation—her silence when he gave her the ultimatum—slammed into him like a roundhouse kick to the gut. He had never asked her to choose before. Never demanded anything from her. But last night… last night, something had broken. And now the very idea of sitting outside the bank, waiting for her like he always did, felt like swallowing glass.

Caleb stopped abruptly, staring at the bank in the distance. His wolf stirred beneath his skin, agitated, wanting to go back, to sit and wait like always. But the man with the wounded pride shook his head, his jaw tightening. No more waiting.

He turned sharply on his heel and headed down the street. Coffee was a welcome scent, and he made his way to the small café on the corner. It wasn’t where he usually went, but maybe that was the point. Maybe it was time to change things up.

The bell above the door chimed as Caleb stepped into the warm, cozy atmosphere of the coffee shop. The rich scent of espresso and baked goods hit him, but it barely registered. His mind was still spinning with the weight of last night’s conversation, the anger in Rochelle’s eyes, the pain in his chest. He could still hear her words, or lack thereof. That damn hesitation and then surprise that he would make her choose. The hurt that he wasn't her immediate choice.

As he moved toward the counter, he spotted his brothers, Elijah and Gideon, leaning casually against the far wall, chatting with each other as they waited for their drinks. They hadn’t noticed him. Caleb debated whether he should just turn around and leave. But before he could act on that impulse, Elijah glanced up and caught sight of him.

“Caleb?” Elijah called, grinning as he waved him over. “What are you doing here?”

Gideon raised an eyebrow, his expression curious. “Is Rochelle out sick today?”

That familiar pang shot through Caleb’s chest again, the instinctual pull to know exactly where Rochelle was, what she was doing. Normally, he would have had an answer. Normally, he did know.

Caleb shrugged, keeping his expression neutral as he approached his brothers. “I don’t know.”

Both Elijah and Gideon exchanged glances, their smiles fading into confusion.