Dark Woods

Chapter 12

The drive to Kylie's house is quiet, but there's this electricity in the air that makes my skin buzz. Jasmine's hand rests on my thigh, her fingers tracing these lazy patterns that make it damn near impossible to focus on the road. Every time I glance at her, she's looking at me with these soft eyes that make my chest do weird s**t I don't understand.

Mine. The word keeps bouncing around in my head, and for the first time in my life, it doesn't make me want to run. It feels... right.

"You okay?" she asks softly, and I realize I've been gripping the steering wheel hard enough to leave dents.

"Yeah," I manage, though my chest feels tight. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

About how I want to turn this car around and take you back to my place. About how I never want to let you out of my sight again. About how everything's changed and I don't know what the f**k I'm doing.

"About tonight," I say instead. "About us."

She smiles, and it's like the sun coming out after a storm. "Good thoughts, I hope."

"The best," I tell her, and mean every word.

But as we pull into Kylie's driveway, reality hits me like a freight train. The sight of Lucas and Nick's cars makes something primal surge in my chest—not because I don't trust my friends, but because I suddenly don't want to share Jasmine with anyone. The possessive urge is so strong it makes my hands shake.

What the hell is happening to me?

Inside, Lucas and Nick are standing in the foyer like sentries, and I catch the way Nick's eyes flick between us, probably scenting the change in both of us. There's this knowing look in his eyes that makes my stomach twist.

"Where are they?" Jasmine asks, letting go of my hand to hurry upstairs.

I watch until she disappears, my chest tightening with each step she takes away from me. The urge to follow her is so strong it makes my hands shake. I force myself to turn away, jaw clenched tight enough to ache.

She's safe. She's just upstairs. Calm the f**k down.

But I can't. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to go after her, to make sure she's okay, to keep her close. This isn't me. I don't lose control. I don't need anyone.

"What now?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.

"I need to see her before I leave," Lucas says, eyes fixed on the staircase. There's something in his tone that tells me he gets exactly what I'm going through.

"Same, but the guys want to meet at the bar," Nick replies, rubbing the back of his neck with barely controlled tension.

"Man, I don't know how you do it," Lucas runs his hands through his hair, frustration bleeding through every word. "Having a mate is hard enough, but when she's not from your pack and underage..."

The word hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest. Mate. Holy s**t. That's what this is. That's why I can't think straight around her, why every cell in my body screams for her touch, why the space between us feels like a physical wound.

No. No f*****g way.

"Yeah, it's rough. I just hope she'll let me stay close until she turns eighteen," Nick shrugs, but I catch the desperate edge beneath his casual tone.

My friends keep talking about mates like it's some beautiful thing, but all I can think about is what I've seen growing up. Strong alphas reduced to shadows of themselves, making stupid decisions because they couldn't think past their d***s. My dad's voice echoes in my head: "The mate bond makes alphas vulnerable, son. It gives your enemies a target, a weakness to exploit. Never let a woman have that much power over you."

I've watched it happen. Jake Morrison from the Silver Creek pack lost everything because he chose his mate over his responsibilities. David Chen nearly got his entire pack killed because he couldn't make the hard choice when his mate was in danger. And my own father—the strongest alpha I know—becomes this different person around my mom. Softer. Weaker.

But how can I be feeling this without my wolf? It doesn't make sense. The mate bond isn't supposed to kick in until you shift for the first time. So why does every cell in my body feel like it's on fire when I'm around her?

"Gabriel," Nick says, and I realize he's been talking to me.

"What?"

"I said, you smell different tonight. And you've got this look..." He trails off, but I can see the realization dawning in his eyes. "Holy s**t. Did you and Jasmine—"

"Drop it," I snap, my voice carrying enough alpha authority to make him take a step back.

"f**k, Gab. When did you know?" Lucas asks, his voice quiet.

I don't answer, but I don't need to. It's written all over my face.

"How long?" Nick presses.

"Weeks," I admit, the word feeling like glass in my throat. "Maybe longer. I don't know."

"But you don't even have your wolf yet," Lucas says, confused. "How can you—"

"I don't know!" I snap, running my hands through my hair. "I don't know how any of this works. All I know is that I can't get her out of my head, and it's driving me f*****g crazy."

The panic's getting worse now, clawing up my throat like a living thing. This isn't supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to need anyone. I'm Gabriel f*****g Blackwood—future alpha of the Crimson Moon pack. I don't have weaknesses.

But Jasmine... she's going to be my downfall. I can feel it.

"Maybe it's different for alphas," Nick suggests. "Maybe the bond starts before the wolf manifests."

"That's not how it works," I say, but even as I say it, I'm not sure. Lucas found his mate before his eighteenth birthday too. Maybe there's something we don't understand about how this s**t works.

"Look, man, I get that you're freaking out," Lucas says, moving closer. "But running from it isn't gonna make it go away."

"I'm not running," I lie.

"Then what are you doing?"

I don't have an answer for that. All I know is that the thought of being tied to someone, of needing them the way I need Jasmine, makes me want to punch something.

Footsteps on the stairs pull me from my spiral, and my head snaps up involuntarily. The three girls come down, and my world narrows to a single point—Jasmine. My breath catches as our eyes meet, and I feel it then, that thrumming beneath my skin that I can't explain. It's like lightning trapped in my bones, like my heart's trying to beat in sync with hers.

Time stops. The room fades. There's only her—the way concern shadows her eyes, the way she unconsciously steps toward me before catching herself. I see the exact moment confusion flickers across her features, as if she feels the pull too but can't name it.

Every instinct I have—wolf or no wolf—surges forward, desperate to close the distance between us, to touch, to claim, to protect. My hands fist at my sides, knuckles white with the effort of staying still. Every fiber of my being roars at me to go to her, but the rational part of my mind—the part that remembers how mates destroy strong men—holds me frozen.

She's going to make me weak. She's going to be my downfall.

"Thank you, Lucas," Sarah says quietly, her voice cutting through the electric tension. "I don't know what would've happened if you weren't there." Her voice cracks.

The spell breaks. I blink, reality crashing back as Lucas moves to Sarah's side, pulling her into his arms. "He'll never touch you again. If he tries, I'll rip his throat out."

I watch my best friend surrender completely to whatever this is, see the peace that settles over Lucas's features as he holds his mate, and something cold twists in my gut. Fear. Pure, undiluted terror at what I'm feeling for Jasmine.

That's not strength. That's dependence. That's weakness.

Jasmine starts walking toward me, and I can see the trust in her eyes, the way she expects me to reach for her like I did in the car. The way she's looking at me—like I'm her whole world—makes my chest feel like it's caving in.

I can't do this. I can't be what she needs. I can't be weak.

Instead of reaching for her, I step back, forcing my face into a blank mask.

"Ready to go?" she asks softly, confusion flickering across her features at my sudden distance.

"Actually," I say, my voice colder than I intended, "I think I'm gonna meet the guys at the bar."

The hurt that flashes across her face is like a knife to my chest, but I force myself to stay still. This is for the best. I need space to think, to get my head straight, to figure out how to deal with this without losing myself completely.

"Oh," she says quietly, wrapping her arms around herself like she's trying to hold herself together. "Okay."

The way she says it—so small, so confused—makes something primal howl in protest inside me. Every instinct I have screams at me to take it back, to pull her into my arms and never let go. But I can't. I won't let this bond turn me into one of those pathetic alphas who can't function without their mate.

"You can get a ride with Nick and Kylie," I say, already backing toward the door. "I'll... I'll see you later."

I turn and walk away before she can respond, before I can see the confusion and pain in her eyes turn to something worse. Before I can change my mind and do something stupid like apologize and beg her to come with me.

The cool night air hits my face as I step outside, but it doesn't help. Whatever this is—mate bond or not—it's like a physical chain around my chest, getting tighter with every step I take away from her.

This is what I was afraid of. This is exactly what I can't let happen.

The bar is packed, music thumping loud enough to rattle my bones, but it doesn't drown out the chaos in my head. I'm on my third whiskey, gripping the glass like it's the only thing keeping me anchored to reality. My friends' voices fade to background noise as I fight the urge to drive back to her, to forget everything I believe about mates and weakness and control.

"You're being an i***t," Nick says, sliding into the booth across from me.

"f**k off," I mutter, not looking up from my drink.

"She's your mate, Gabriel. You can't just ignore that."

"Watch me."

"Look, I get it. The whole thing's scary as hell. But running away isn't gonna make it go away."

I finally look up at him, and I know my eyes are probably wild. "You don't get it, Nick. You don't understand what this means. I'm supposed to be the next alpha. I can't afford to have a weakness."

"She's not a weakness, she's—"

"She's everything," I snap, the words ripping out of me before I can stop them. "She's everything, and that's the problem. I can't think straight around her. I can't make rational decisions. How the hell am I supposed to lead a pack when I can't even control myself around one girl?"

Nick's quiet for a long moment, studying my face. "Maybe that's not weakness. Maybe that's what makes you stronger."

"Bullshit." I down the rest of my whiskey and signal for another. "I've seen what the mate bond does to alphas. It makes them stupid. It makes them choose their mates over their responsibilities. I won't be that guy."

"So what, you're just gonna avoid her forever?"

"If I have to."

But even as I say it, I know it's a lie. I can feel the bond pulling at me, like a compass needle always pointing toward her. Every instinct I have is demanding I go to her, demanding I fix whatever I broke tonight.

And that's exactly why I can't. Because if I go back to her now, I'll never be able to leave again.

That's when I spot her—a leggy blonde with a seductive smile, wearing a dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. She's everything Jasmine isn't: easy, temporary, meaningless. Safe.

Maybe she's exactly the distraction I need. Maybe if I can prove to myself that any woman will do, this feeling will disappear. Maybe I can f**k Jasmine out of my system once and for all.

"I'll catch you guys later," I say, my voice hollow as I stand.

"Gabriel, don't do this," Nick says, but I'm already walking away.

I ignore the concerned looks my friends exchange and walk toward the blonde, each step feeling like a betrayal of something sacred. But I'm drowning in feelings I don't understand, and she looks like the only life raft in sight.

Maybe meaningless s*x will finally purge Jasmine from my thoughts for good.

The blonde—Amber, she tells me—is all over me the second I approach. Her hands are in my hair, her body pressed against mine, and she's whispering all the things she wants to do to me. It should be working. It should be exactly what I need.

But all I can think about is the way Jasmine's eyes went wide when I touched her. The way she said my name like a prayer. The way she trusted me completely.

"Your place or mine?" Amber purrs, her lips brushing against my ear.

I can't take her to my place. The thought of bringing her where I live, where my family is, makes my stomach turn. And her place feels too... intimate. Too real.

"Neither," I say, my voice rougher than I intended. "There's a motel down the street."

She raises an eyebrow but shrugs. "Kinky. I like it."

That's not why I chose it, but I don't bother explaining. Cheap motels are perfect for this kind of thing—anonymous, forgettable, meaningless. No connections, no complications. Just physical release and then I can pretend it never happened.

The Starlight Motel is exactly what I expected—neon signs, cracked parking lot, rooms that rent by the hour. It's the kind of place where no one asks questions and everyone minds their own business. Perfect for what I need.

But as I pay for the room, my hands are shaking. This should be easy. It should be exactly what I need to prove that what I feel for Jasmine isn't real.

So why does every step toward that motel room feel like I'm walking toward my own execution?

The key feels heavy in my hand as I unlock the door. The room is exactly what I expected—cheap furniture, thin walls, a bed that's seen better days. It's perfect for meaningless hookups.

But all I can think about is the way Jasmine looked at me with such trust, such hope. The way she whispered my name like a prayer.

This is the right thing to do, I tell myself. This is how I prove I'm not weak.

But if it's the right thing to do, why does it feel like the biggest mistake of my life?