The Pull
953 Words
Ava didn’t remember walking home.
Her boots were damp, her palms scratched from where she must’ve stumbled through the underbrush, but her mind was too clouded to care. The whole forest could have swallowed her and she wouldn’t have noticed. Lucien’s voice kept echoing in her head. His eyes. That heat.
She dropped onto the couch and stared at the wall for what felt like hours.
She should be afraid. Everything about him screamed danger. He’d talked about blood like it was currency. Told her she wasn’t like the others. Said she was marked. Nothing about this made sense.
And yet.
A part of her wasn’t scared.
A part of her was restless.
The feeling started deep in her chest. A slow burn that spread out through her limbs, making her skin feel too tight. Like her body knew something her mind refused to admit. Like her blood was humming with a tune she hadn’t heard in years.
She paced the cabin.
Lucien hadn’t threatened her. He’d protected her. From wolves that listened to his voice. That obeyed him. That backed away when he said one word.
He wasn’t human.
She had known that the second she saw his eyes.
But neither was she, was she?
Her mother used to whisper things when Ava was little. Words she didn’t understand. She remembered herbs hung over doors and symbols drawn in chalk. She remembered a man with dark eyes standing in the shadows of her childhood home and her mother pushing her behind the couch, whispering don’t make a sound. She remembered pain. Fever. Screaming.
Then she remembered nothing.
Her mother died not long after that. And Ava forgot all the strange things, or buried them so deep they might as well have never existed.
Now they were clawing their way back.
When night fell again, she stood on the porch and stared out into the woods. This time she wasn’t waiting for something to appear. This time she wanted it to.
The silence stretched.
Nothing moved. No wolves. No golden eyes in the dark.
Just trees. Mist. Her own breath.
She went back inside and grabbed the first aid kit, peeled off her sock, and cleaned the scratch on her ankle. It stung a little, but not much. She bandaged it and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
She was halfway to sleep when the knock came.
No hesitation. Three sharp raps.
Her heart stuttered.
She opened the door.
Lucien stood on the porch again. Same dark clothes. Same wild energy. His gaze swept over her, slow, hungry, heated.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“But you are.”
He didn’t reply.
She stepped aside.
He hesitated. Then walked in.
The cabin seemed smaller with him in it. The air thicker. He didn’t sit. Just stood by the fireplace, arms crossed, jaw tight.
“You could’ve been killed today,” he said.
“So I’ve been told. Several times now.”
Lucien didn’t smile. “You don’t understand what this place is.”
“No one will explain it to me.”
He looked at her then, and for a moment, Ava saw something behind his anger. A flicker of conflict. Something like regret. Or longing.
“You’re not one of them,” he said again, voice low. “You don’t belong in that town. You’re not theirs.”
“You said I was marked. What does that mean?”
He shook his head. “It means you were chosen. A long time ago. Before you could understand what that meant.”
“Chosen by who?”
Lucien didn’t answer.
Instead, he walked closer. One step. Then another. Until he stood directly in front of her.
“I can smell it,” he said. “Your blood. It calls to everything that walks on four legs in these woods.”
“And to you?”
His throat flexed. He didn’t move.
“You want to know why I’m here?” he said finally. “Because I felt it. The second you crossed the ridge. Like lightning through my spine. Your scent in the air. The way your presence burned through everything that kept me sane.”
Her mouth went dry.
“That sounds like obsession.”
He leaned in just enough for her to feel the heat rolling off his body.
“No,” he said. “It’s instinct.”
Ava stared at him. Her pulse roared in her ears. The air between them was suffocating.
“You can fight it,” she said, barely more than a breath.
“I’ve been trying,” he murmured. “And I’m losing.”
She didn’t know who moved first.
One moment, they were apart.
The next, his mouth was on hers.
The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.
It was hungry.
Lucien crushed her against the wall, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist like he was holding himself back from tearing through skin. She kissed him back with everything she had, fingers digging into his shoulders, tasting heat and fire and something that made her knees go weak.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathless. His eyes burned brighter than before, nearly glowing.
“This is dangerous,” he said, voice rough.
“Then don’t stop.”
“You don’t know what I am.”
“Maybe I want to.”
Lucien groaned like it physically hurt him to hold back. He stepped away, fists clenched at his sides.
“If I stay, I’ll ruin everything.”
“Then ruin me.”
That broke him.
He closed the space between them again, and this time, when his hands touched her, there was no hesitation.
- Writer
