No one Takes What is Mine.

Welcome

His car, a sleek, dark beast of a vehicle Annie had only ever seen parked in the university parking lot, purred to life with a soft whirr. He opened the passenger door for her; the leather seats a stark contrast to the worn fabric of her own modest car. The scent of pine and something musky, distinctly his, filled the interior. As the car pulled away from the curb, leaving the twinkling Christmas lights and the ghost of betrayal behind, Annie leaned her head back, watching the city lights blur into streaks of color. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

“Thank you,” she murmured, the words barely audible over the hum of the engine. Dane didn’t reply immediately; his focus on the road, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. His jaw was still set, but the fierce anger in his eyes had receded, replaced by a deep, unwavering concern. He turned off the main thoroughfare, the car gliding smoothly onto a less-travelled road, the buildings growing sparser, the air colder, cleaner. Soon, the last gasps of city glow faded behind them, replaced by the inky blackness of towering evergreens. The tires crunched softly on a thin layer of snow as they delved deeper into the forest. Annie had walked these woods before, on crisp autumn days, but never this deep, and never at night. The trees, gnarled and ancient, seemed to press in on them, their branches heavy with snow like silent sentinels. A shiver traced its way down her spine, not of fear, but of anticipation. Where was he taking her?

“Where are we going?” she finally asked, her voice a little small in the vast silence of the woods.

“Somewhere safe,” Dane replied, his voice a low, reassuring rumble. “Somewhere you can breathe.”

The car continued its journey, the headlights cutting a path through the dense, snow-laden wilderness. Minutes stretched into what felt like an hour, the world outside a dizzying blur of white and shadow. Just as Annie thought they would drive forever, a flicker of light pierced the darkness. The trees parted slightly, revealing a clearing, and in its centre, nestled amongst the giants, stood a house. It wasn't a modern structure, nor was it a rustic cabin. Instead, it was a magnificent, sprawling stone edifice, its architecture hinting at forgotten eras, yet somehow perfectly integrated into the wild landscape. Warm, golden light spilt from leaded glass windows, illuminating wisps of smoke curling from an imposing stone chimney. A sense of ancient magic seemed to cling to it; a place lifted from a fairytale. Annie gasped softly, her eyes wide. “I… I’ve never seen this place before.” She knew these woods, or so she thought. This house, grand and mysterious, should have been a local legend, yet she’d heard nothing.

Dane pulled the car to a silent stop in front of a heavy, carved wooden door. He turned to her, his amber eyes, now softened to a warm honey in the glow of the house, held hers. “That’s because it’s not meant to be found by just anyone.” He reached across, his hand gently cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin. “Welcome home, Annie.”

The heavy, carved door swung inward with a low groan, revealing a cavernous hall bathed in the glow of a colossal fireplace. Flames danced merrily within its stone maw, casting shifting shadows on walls adorned with tapestries depicting ancient, forgotten hunts and battle scenes. The air inside was a heady concoction of woodsmoke, old leather, and something else – something wild and earthy, yet comforting. Annie blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden grandeur. Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, supported by massive timber beams, and a sweeping staircase of dark, polished wood curved gracefully upwards, disappearing into the shadows of the upper floors.

“Come,” Dane murmured, his hand still warm around hers, pulling her gently into the warmth. As they stepped fully inside, several figures emerged from various doorways, their movements silent, almost preternatural. They were a mix of men and women, dressed in practical, yet finely made, clothing. Their eyes, sharp and intelligent, flickered to Annie for a fleeting moment before settling on Dane. And then, one by one, they bowed. Deeply. Their heads lowered, their respect palpable, almost reverent. Annie’s jaw dropped. She glanced at Dane, whose expression remained completely unfazed, as if this was merely how one greeted a Tuesday. Before she could process the strange display, a man detached himself from the group, striding forward with an easy confidence that matched Dane’s own. He was tall, with a shock of unruly dark hair and a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes, a stark contrast to Dane’s controlled intensity.

“Took you long enough, Alpha,” the man grinned, clapping Dane heartily on the shoulder. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost in the snowdrifts chasing a particularly stubborn squirrel.” His gaze then landed on Annie, softening instantly. “And who is this lovely creature you’ve finally decided to drag back to the fold? Don’t tell me you finally found her.” Annie’s head spun. “Alpha?” Like… a wolf pack? Her mind, already reeling from Freddy and Meg’s betrayal, struggled to reconcile Professor Dane, her quiet, intense literature professor, with the notion of him being some kind of… leader of a secret society of bowing people. She felt a nervous giggle bubble up, quickly suppressed.

Dane’s lips quirked into a rare, almost imperceptible smile. “Damon, this is Annie. Annie, this is Damon, my oldest and most insufferable friend.” Damon bowed again, this time with a flourish that made Annie suspect he was enjoying her bewildered expression. “A pleasure, Annie. Though I must say, for a man who’s been pining over a woman for years, Dane picked a rather dramatic evening for the grand reveal.” He winked at her, and Annie felt a blush creep up her neck, despite herself.

Dinner was a surreal affair. The table, a long, rough-hewn slab of wood, groaned under the weight of roasted meats, hearty stews, and freshly baked bread. The same quiet, respectful individuals from the hall served them, moving with an almost animal grace. Annie found herself seated beside Dane, who subtly, yet constantly, ensured her plate was full and her wine glass never empty. The conversation around the table was hushed, punctuated by deep, rumbling laughs from the men and softer, melodic tones from the women. Everyone addressed Dane as ‘Alpha,’ their difference, an unspoken language she couldn’t comprehend. She ate mechanically, her mind buzzing with questions she dared not voice.

After the meal, which felt both ancient and oddly comforting, Dane rose. “Annie, you must be exhausted.” He took her hand, his thumb stroking the back of her palm. “I’ll show you to your quarters. You can rest.” He led her not up the grand staircase, but through a hidden archway near the fireplace, down a short, stone-flagged corridor, and into what looked like a separate, smaller building connected to the main house. It was a guest house, more luxurious than any hotel room Annie had ever seen. A four-poster bed, draped in rich fabrics, dominated the room, and a claw-footed tub gleamed invitingly in an adjoining bathroom. A fresh change of clothes, soft and warm, lay folded on the bed.

“Freshen up, little one,” Dane said, his voice softer now, tinged with concern. “And rest. We’ll talk in the morning.” His eyes, the amber now fully receded to their usual intense grey, held hers, a silent promise of protection. He leaned down, placing a feather-light kiss on her forehead before withdrawing. “Goodnight, Annie.” As the door clicked softly shut, Annie sank onto the edge of the plush bed, the scent of pine and Dane’s unique musk still clinging to the air. Her mind was a whirlwind. Freddy, Meg, betrayal, Alpha, bowing, ancient houses, mysterious friends. It was too much. But as she peeled off her cold, damp clothes and stepped into the steaming water of the tub, a strange sense of calm began to settle over her. She was safe. For now.

Meanwhile, Dane and Damon retired to a study that smelled of old books and pipe tobacco. Dane poured two glasses of amber liquid from a crystal decanter, handing one to Damon. “So,” Damon began, swirling the drink, a smirk playing on his lips. “Annie, huh? Knew you were hiding her somewhere. You always get that look in your eyes when you’ve found something precious.” Dane took a slow sip; his gaze fixed on the roaring fire. “She’s my mate, Damon.” The words were spoken with a quiet finality, a declaration to the universe.