Primal Instinct

16-ALPHA AT HOME

Steam clung to the air like breath against glass. The marble floor gleamed in the dim wash of moonlight spilling through the high window, each ray carving silver lines across the fog. I pressed back against the cold tile, my pulse a frantic drum. My body still burning, not from the water, but from something alive inside me. The heat that had nothing to do with fever and everything to do with him.

Trenton filled the doorway, rain and darkness still clinging to him. His shirt was torn, streaked with something I hoped was water. His chest rose and fell too fast. Behind his eyes, something moved—something else.

"Do you have any idea," he said, voice low and shaking, "what almost happened?"

His breath hit my throat—hot, ragged. I couldn't answer. I couldn't think.

"You let another wolf near you," he said. "You let him smell you." The words came out strangled, like he was talking to himself as much as to me. "You don't know what that means here."

"I didn't—he came to the door, I didn't ask him— wait. Wolf?"

"Doesn't matter." His head dipped closer, his voice rough enough to scrape against my skin. "You're mine."

The last word landed somewhere low in my stomach, sending a pulse of heat through every nerve.

He snarled. The sound was low, guttural, too wild to be human. For a second, his canines lengthened—gold glinting in the low light. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting something I couldn't see. When he opened them again, the silver had swallowed all the brown.

"You have no idea what you are to me," he said quietly. "What you've done to me since you got here." Every word vibrated through me, sinking deeper than sound should. My pulse matched his, every beat syncing until I couldn't tell whose was whose.

"Trenton," I whispered, and even to my own ears it sounded like a plea.

He flinched as though the word struck him. "Don't... say my name like that." His voice was rough, layered. One moment human, the next edged with something deep and feral. "You really shouldn't even be near me right now."

My heart pounded harder. "Tell me what's happening to me? Did you drug me?" I demanded, voice cracking. "Why does it feel like I'm burning from the inside out?"

He took a step closer, and the air seemed to bend around him. His scent filled my lungs, dizzying me. "No, mate. You're reacting to me," he said, the words scraping out through clenched teeth. "To what I am."

"What are you?"

For a heartbeat, he looked almost human again—just a man caught between guilt and hunger. Then the silver bled back into his eyes, bright and unnatural. His next breath came out as a growl.

"Haven't you been listening little rabbit? I'm what your kind pretends doesn't exist. I'm a wolf lycan." He took another step. "And you—" He stopped. His jaw locked, as though forcing words through another presence sharing his body. When he spoke again, the voice that answered wasn't his.

"She's ours."

I froze. The tone was deeper, colder, like hearing thunder inside a voice. His posture changed, spine straightening, shoulders rolling back with predatory grace. His pupils flared until only a ring of silver surrounded black.

"Trenton?" I whispered, uncertain.

The wolf tilted his head, studying me. "He tries to keep you from me," it said, the sound vibrating through the room. "But you called. You burned for us."

"I—I didn't call anyone," I stammered, my back hitting the wall. "Please... you're scaring me."

The growl softened, becoming almost a purr. "Fear smells sweet, rabbit. But that's not what you want from me, is it?"

"Stop! Please, Trenton—"

He stepped closer until there was no air left between us. My back hit the wall, the cool tile burning where it met my overheated skin. The scent of him filled the space—earth and smoke and something primal that made my thoughts scatter.

His hand came up, hesitated, then traced the air just above my cheek without touching. "You're burning," he murmured.

"They told you I was sick," I whispered. "You didn't believe them."

He made a sound—half growl, half breath—that could've been a curse or a prayer. "You're not sick. You're bonded to me mate."

The word hit me again like a spark. My chest tightened, the ache flaring up, answering him. His head tilted, nostrils flaring as he inhaled the change in my scent. His control slipped another inch. Trenton staggered back, shaking his head violently, forcing the other voice down. "Get out," he grated, his human tone returning, ragged. "Before he hurts you. Before I hurt you."

I didn't move. My whole body trembled—not just with fear, but something sharper, needier, that made my knees weak. His expression twisted, equal parts pain and disbelief. "You shouldn't be feeling this. You shouldn't even be able to. You're human."

My chest tightened. "Then why does the thought of actually walking away bring me physical pain?"

He groaned, palms pressed to his temples as if the argument inside his skull was tearing him apart. "Because the wolf doesn't care what I want, only what he wants."

"What does he want?"

He looked up at me, eyes flickering again—brown, then silver, then both. "You." The word was almost silent. "But I can't give him that. I can't give you that."

"Why not?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted. Angry, but underneath that... desperate.

He turned away, muscles coiled like he might break something just to stop himself from breaking apart. "Because if I touch you again, I won't stop. And once the bond completes, you'll never be free of me. You'll never have a choice."

"I clearly already don't," I said softly, the confession slipping out before I could catch it.

He went still. A low, pleased rumble rolled through his chest that didn't sound like him at all. "See?" it hissed. "She knows."

Trenton's fist slammed against the wall, the sound echoing through the marble. "Shut up," he snapped—to himself, to the creature under his skin. "She's not yours."

"She is," the wolf answered through clenched teeth, his voice distorting Trenton's mouth into something both terrifying and beautiful. "You can lie to her, but not to me. She smells like us. She dreams like us. She burns for us."

My breathing grew shallow. The fever roared back to life, curling through my limbs. "Please," I said, voice shaking, "make it stop."

He turned back to her—human again, barely. The bones of his face looked sharper, his eyes bruised with exhaustion and something like grief. "I can't."

Something inside me frayed at the edges. "So that's it? You get to tell me I'm yours, that I'm bonded to some monster under your skin, and then just... leave me like this?"

"You don't understand what you're asking," he bit out.

"Then make me understand."