Marked by Desire

Chapter two

ALINA’S POV

The forest opens slowly around me as I run.

The trees thin, the ground sloping downward, the scent of water growing stronger with every step. My paws drum softly against the damp earth, leaves scattering beneath me as the night air rushes through my fur.

This is the part I love most.

Running like this feels like breathing for the first time after being trapped underwater. The world sharpens, every sound and scent layered and alive. I can smell the moss beneath the trees, the faint trace of deer somewhere far to the west, the cool mineral scent of the river ahead.

The eastern river.

My mother’s warning flickers in the back of my mind.

Stay away from the eastern river tonight.

My wolf ignores it completely.

She surges forward with eager energy, tail flicking behind her as the sound of rushing water grows louder. The forest here is older than the territory near the pack house. The trees are thick and towering, their branches twisting together high above to create a patchwork ceiling of leaves and moonlight.

This part of the forest always feels different.

Quieter.

Wilder.

Almost untouched.

A few more strides and the trees break apart completely.

The river appears before me like a ribbon of silver cutting through the dark forest floor.

Moonlight spills across the water, turning the current into shifting shards of light. The riverbank slopes gently downward, soft sand and smooth stones lining the edge.

My wolf slows, pacing toward the water.

This place has always felt like a secret.

A place that belongs only to me.

No pack rules. No watchful eyes. No expectations.

Just the forest.

And the river.

The cool night air brushes against my fur as I step closer to the water’s edge. The current murmurs softly, the sound steady and calming.

My wolf hesitates for only a moment before the familiar pull of the water wins.

The shift back to human comes quickly.

Bones slide, fur receding as warmth ripples through my body. Within seconds I’m standing barefoot on the riverbank, the cool night air kissing my skin.

For a moment I just stand there, breathing it in.

This place always feels different from the rest of the territory. Quieter. Wilder. Like the forest is holding its breath.

I glance down at what I’m wearing and huff a quiet laugh.

Very practical.

A thin grey vest clings to my skin, soft and loose from the run, the fabric brushing lightly against my stomach every time the breeze moves through the clearing. The shorts I threw on before sneaking out are even less practical. They’re old denim, cut far too short, the edges frayed from years of wear.

But it doesn’t matter.

No one comes here.

That was the whole point.

The river glimmers invitingly in front of me.

Without hesitating, I step into the water.

The cold hits immediately, sharp enough to pull a quiet breath from my lungs as the river curls around my ankles, then my calves. I wade deeper until the current slides against my waist before pushing forward and diving.

The chill surrounds me instantly.

For a moment the entire world disappears beneath the water. My arms cut smoothly through the current, my body moving easily with the slow pull of the river.

The run fades from my muscles. The tension melts away.

This is why I come here.

When my lungs begin to burn, I kick upward.

My head breaks through the surface and I inhale deeply, pushing wet hair back from my face.

That’s when I see him.

He’s standing on the riverbank.

For a moment my mind blanks completely.

The tall figure is outlined by moonlight behind him, his broad shoulders casting a dark shadow across the sand. He stands perfectly still, like he’s been carved from the night itself.

Watching me.

My stomach drops.

How long has he been there?

Embarrassment flashes through me first. Then anger follows close behind.

“What are you doing here?” I call out across the water.

He doesn’t move.

Not even slightly.

“You’re the one swimming in my river,” he replies calmly.

His voice is low, steady, carrying easily across the clearing.

I push through the water toward the bank, irritation prickling beneath my skin.

“Rivers don’t belong to anyone,” I shoot back.

A faint curve touches his mouth.

“If you say so.”

I step out of the river, the cool night air immediately biting at my wet skin. Water runs down my legs, dripping from the ends of my hair and sliding over my soaked vest, which clings to every curve of my body. My shorts barely cover me, the denim sticking uncomfortably to my thighs. The chill makes me shiver, but it’s not the cold that prickles along my spine.

Then I notice him.

He hasn’t moved. Not a step. Not a flicker.

He’s still standing at the riverbank, tall and broad against the pale moonlight, and his gaze is locked on me. Not my face. Not my hair.

Lower.

The slow, deliberate way he’s looking… it makes my stomach tighten. My chest hitches involuntarily as I cross my arms over myself, trying to cover what’s already exposed. But the motion is futile. His eyes don’t flinch; they don’t avert. He’s studying me, tracing every curve, every line, every inch of wet skin pressed against the thin fabric of my vest.

I can feel my pulse throbbing between my legs. My body reacts before my brain can even process it. Heat blossoms low in my belly, creeping up, curling around my spine, curling through my chest. My n*****s press sharply against the wet fabric, and I can tell he notices.

It shouldn’t turn me on. It shouldn’t make my breath hitch and my chest ache, but it does.

My wolf stirs beneath my skin, restless and insistent, coiling through my muscles like a live wire. Every instinct in me recognizes him, even though my mind screams that he’s a Blackridge wolf—my enemy.

I step toward the riverbank, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Rivers don’t belong to anyone,” I say, the words sharper than I intended.

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. His eyes follow me with a heat that makes my stomach flutter dangerously. His jaw is tight, his hands flexing at his sides as though restraining himself from some unspoken action. I feel it—the tension radiating off him like a charge in the air before a storm.

I can’t help it. I shift, bending slightly to shake the water from my hair. My vest clings harder to my chest. The movement is unconscious, subtle, but deliberate enough that I know he notices again.

And I notice the effect it has on him.

His pupils darken. His shoulders tense. The air between us seems to thrum, and I feel a pull I can’t name. Something primal coils low in my stomach and climbs into my chest, making my breathing shallow. My wolf growls softly, echoing the ache in my body.

I try to step away, to regain some semblance of control, but as I pivot, his hand closes around my wrist.

Firm. Unyielding.

The spark of contact is instantaneous. My body jolts. A shiver rolls through me, not from the cold, but from the sheer force of him holding me. My pulse pounds in my ears. Heat sears through me, curling into every nerve ending.

I lift my gaze to meet his, and the world tilts sideways.

Our eyes lock, and it’s like staring into a fire I can’t touch but want desperately to burn in. The wolf inside me surges violently, every instinct screaming for him, clawing at my restraint. There’s a pull between us that isn’t just desire. It’s need. Primal, fierce, undeniable.

His grip tightens just a fraction, enough to ground me, to make me aware that he’s feeling it too.

The mate bond ignites like a wildfire, sudden and consuming. Heat races through my veins, making my skin tingle and my heart hammer. I can feel him—the other wolf—wild and alive, tangled with mine in a way I’ve never experienced. Every instinct, every nerve, every muscle is on alert, vibrating in response to him.

He steps slightly closer, and I can feel his heat, the dangerous press of his presence so close it’s almost physical. The world narrows until it’s just the two of us. My pulse, his pulse. Our wolves, running wild.

But even in the surge of heat and instinct, he resists. His jaw flexes. His dark eyes, burning with raw desire, snap to mine.

“Leave,” he growls, his voice rough, low, vibrating straight through me.

I blink, breathless. “W-what?”

“You need to go,” he says, voice thick with barely restrained need.

The words strike me harder than his grip. I feel it in every nerve, in every curve of my body, the ache between my legs deepening, unbidden. My wolf snarls in frustration, restless and furious. My body responds instinctively to the pull of his gaze, the magnetism of him.

I hesitate, wanting to stay, wanting more, even as fear laces through me.

He notices the hesitation. His gaze darkens further, shadowed by something fierce and dangerous. “Now,” he repeats, every syllable edged with raw restraint. “Go. Before I lose control.”

I step back, reluctantly, letting him release my wrist. The cool air does nothing to quench the fire still radiating through my veins. The wet vest clinging to me is suddenly torture, a reminder of his gaze, his hold, the impossible pull between us.

And I know, even as I retreat into the forest, that nothing about tonight is over.

Not the pull. Not the heat. Not the bond.

Not him.