Chapter three
1072 Words
ALINA’S POV
I wake up before dawn.
Not gently. Not slowly.
My eyes snap open like something dragged me out of sleep.
For a moment, I don’t move. The room is still wrapped in shadows, the faintest grey light creeping through the curtains. The house is quiet, but my body isn’t.
My chest feels tight.
Warm.
Wrong.
I inhale slowly, trying to steady myself, but the feeling doesn’t go away. It settles deeper instead, curling low in my stomach like a slow-burning ember.
Then I remember.
The river.
Him.
My fingers tighten slightly against the sheets.
The memory doesn’t come back in pieces—it hits all at once. The way he looked at me. The weight of his gaze. The heat that followed, sharp and immediate, like my body had been waiting for something it didn’t understand.
And then—
His hand on my wrist.
I suck in a quiet breath.
Even now, hours later, I can still feel it. Like my skin hasn’t forgotten. Like it’s holding onto the exact place he touched me, replaying it over and over.
I turn onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.
This shouldn’t be happening.
He’s Blackridge.
Enemy.
That should be enough to shut this down. To kill whatever this is before it grows into something dangerous.
But my body doesn’t seem to care.
My wolf shifts beneath my skin, slow and deliberate. Not restless like before. Not agitated.
Aware.
Interested.
I press my lips together, exhaling sharply through my nose.
“No,” I murmur under my breath.
But even that feels weak.
Because the truth is—
I felt it too.
Not just the tension. Not just the way he looked at me.
Something deeper.
Something that hasn’t let go.
I close my eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but it only makes it worse.
Now I can see him clearly.
Standing at the edge of the river.
Still. Watching.
The way his gaze dragged over me, unhurried, deliberate. The way it lingered like he had no intention of stopping himself.
Heat spreads through my chest again, sliding lower, settling into a slow, aching pull.
My thighs press together unconsciously.
I freeze.
The reaction is instant. Involuntary.
Annoying.
I shift slightly, trying to ignore it, but the feeling only sharpens. My breathing changes, slower, heavier, as the memory loops again in my mind.
His eyes.
His voice.
Leave.
Not a command.
A warning.
A small, frustrated sound slips from my throat before I can stop it.
This is ridiculous.
I sit up abruptly, dragging a hand down my face.
It was one night. One encounter.
That’s it.
So why does it feel like something followed me back?
The rest of the morning doesn’t feel real.
I move through it like I’m slightly out of sync with everything around me.
Voices blur together. Conversations drift past me without meaning. I respond when I’m supposed to, nod when expected, but none of it sticks.
Because every so often—
It comes back.
That moment.
The heat.
The way my body reacted like it already knew him.
By midday, I’m irritated.
By evening, I’m restless.
By nightfall—
I’m done pretending I don’t feel it.
I stand by my window, staring out into the dark forest.
The trees stretch endlessly, shadows layered over shadows, the same path I took last night hidden somewhere within them.
The same path that leads to the river.
My mother’s voice echoes faintly in my mind.
Stay away from the eastern river.
I should listen.
I know I should.
But my wolf is already moving beneath my skin, pacing slowly, purposefully.
Waiting.
The pull starts low.
Subtle.
A quiet pressure in my chest.
Then it grows.
Steady. Persistent.
Drawing me toward something I already understand is a mistake.
I exhale slowly.
Then I move.
The house is quiet when I slip out.
Easier than last night.
Like I already know exactly where to step, which boards to avoid, how to move without making a sound.
The moment I step into the forest, the air shifts.
Cool. Alive. Familiar.
And something else.
Something faint, but unmistakable.
My wolf lifts her head instantly.
Alert.
Interested.
I don’t hesitate this time.
The shift comes quickly, my body folding and reshaping with practiced ease. The world sharpens around me, scents bursting into clarity.
And underneath everything—
Him.
Faint.
But there.
My wolf surges forward, and I follow.
The run is faster tonight.
More certain.
I don’t question where I’m going.
I don’t try to stop.
The closer I get, the stronger it becomes. That strange pull tightening in my chest, guiding me forward like a thread I can’t break.
The sound of water reaches me first.
Then the trees begin to thin.
And finally—
The clearing opens.
The river glows under the moonlight, just like before.
Still. Quiet.
Waiting.
I slow as I step into the clearing, my breath steady but my pulse racing.
For a moment, there’s nothing.
Just the sound of the river.
The whisper of the wind.
Then—
Something shifts.
Subtle.
But unmistakable.
I’m not alone.
I feel it before I see him.
Then I do—leaning against a tree at the edge of the river, like he’s been waiting.
My breath catches.
His eyes are already on me. Watching. Tracking.
“You followed me,” I say.
“I didn’t have to.”
His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate. Heat coils low in my stomach.
“You came back,” he adds.
“So did you.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and charged.
“It means you felt it too,” he says, pushing off the tree.
I don’t answer.
He steps closer.
My body reacts instantly.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says.
“Neither should you.”
Another step. Closer.
His gaze drops again, tracing over me like he’s memorizing every detail.
“You wore this again.”
“Coincidence.”
He doesn’t believe me.
Neither do I.
Now there’s barely any space between us. I can feel his heat, the tension in him, like he’s holding himself back.
“Careful,” he murmurs.
“Or what?”
His eyes darken.
“Or I might stop telling you to leave.”
A pulse of heat shoots through me.
I should step back.
I don’t.
“Then don’t.”
The words slip out.
A mistake.
His control snaps.
- Writer
