CHAPTER 3: THE HOWL IN THE TREES
1355 Words
She woke gasping.
Air hit her lungs like a slap hot, heavy, too much at once.
Her back arched off the car seat. Sweat slicked every inch of her skin. Her shirt clung to her chest like glue. Her jeans were soaked at the crotch and thighs not from fear.
From need.
Her body wasn’t hers anymore.
She knew that the moment she opened her eyes.
The world looked different. Too sharp. Too close. She could see the dust on the dashboard. The texture of her steering wheel. Hear the hum of insects outside the way they vibrated.
Her skin buzzed like a live wire.
“f**k,” she whispered.
Her voice sounded too loud.
Too sensitive.
She tried to sit up her body rolled instead, hips grinding against the seat, breath hitching as her core throbbed again.
Her hands flew to her thighs.
Sticky.
Soaked.
“Jesus Christ.”
This wasn’t just arousal. It wasn’t hormonal. It was primal.
Her thighs clenched together before she could stop them.
Her n*****s ached against her bra like they’d been pinched for hours.
She pulled at her shirt, desperate for air, for distance from herself but her skin felt too tight, like she was trapped under something too small, too alive.
Her eyes fluttered closed and all she saw was him.
The gray eyes.
The slow breath at her throat.
The heat of his tongue, dragging across the mark he left.
The voice inside her.
Little wild thing…
Her head tipped back with a groan.
She didn’t want to be turned on.
She didn’t mean to be.
This wasn’t sexy.
It was terrifying.
She was burning alive.
But her thighs rubbed together.
Her hands slid beneath the waistband of her jeans before she even made a choice.
And that’s when she knew.
The body wasn’t hers anymore.
The bond was.
Her fingers slid beneath the waistband.
Warm.
Wetter than she’d ever felt.
Her breath broke.
Her hips rose without permission.
“No,” she whispered. “Don’t don’t you dare ”
But her fingers moved anyway.
One stroke.
Her whole body jerked.
Another.
Her eyes rolled back.
It didn’t help.
It made it worse.
Each touch poured gasoline on a fire that wasn’t hers. Her core ached tight and liquid and desperate.
Her legs trembled.
The mark on her neck pulsed in rhythm with her fingers.
She could feel him again.
Not just memory. Not imagination.
Presence.
Like he was near.
Like he was coming.
Her moan broke halfway through, turning into a sob.
She wasn’t getting off.
She was opening up.
Inviting.
Scenting.
Her own body was broadcasting need.
To him.
To whatever he was.
To whoever else might be listening.
Her hand shot back.
“Stop it stop it, stop ”
She slammed her head against the seatrest.
Her throat burned with unshed screams.
And beneath it all?
The forest responded.
She heard it.
A rustle.
A crack.
Then nothing.
But her stomach flipped.
He’s close.
She didn’t know how she knew.
But she knew.
The bond wasn’t just emotional. Or physical.
It was chemical.
Instinctual.
Territorial.
And it wasn’t hers anymore.
It was theirs.
Her eyes fluttered.
Her lips parted.
And even as her body begged her to keep touching
She reached for the car door.
Because if he was coming…
She wasn’t going to survive this in a car.
The car door swung open with a gasp of cold air.
Sera stumbled out, her boots hitting earth she no longer trusted.
Her legs felt wrong. Heavy and electric, like every step she took shocked her from inside.
The forest pulsed around her.
Same trees.
Same silence.
But not the same woods.
Something had changed.
Not outside.
Her.
The line she’d crossed hadn’t just invited the wolf.
It had woken her.
She moved into the clearing on autopilot, breath ragged, thighs slick, mouth dry.
Every hair on her body stood up.
She felt watched.
She turned
And saw him.
Not Kael.
Not the man.
The wolf.
Larger now. Impossibly large. His shoulders were the width of her car. His head nearly reached her chest standing on all fours.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t growl.
He watched.
His eyes gray and endless locked on hers like a storm waiting to break.
Her breath caught.
Her legs didn’t run.
Her thighs pressed together.
A wave of heat rolled through her belly.
The mark on her neck pulsed in response.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
He stepped forward.
One step.
Another.
Slow.
Controlled.
Predatory.
But not threatening.
Deliberate.
Like he’d waited long enough.
Her lips parted. “Please ”
But she didn’t finish the sentence.
Because she didn’t know what she was begging for.
For him to stop?
Or to come closer?
He did.
Close enough to feel his breath again.
Close enough for her body to lean without her mind’s permission.
She shook.
He didn’t move.
Just stood there.
Watching her fall apart.
One breath at a time.
Her legs gave out.
She dropped to her knees in the dirt, palms bracing against the soft moss, hair falling into her face.
Her body trembled.
Not just with arousal now.
With fracture.
Her bones felt too loose. Her skin too tight. Her nerves too loud.
Every breath came out in broken pieces.
Her thighs pressed together so hard it hurt.
And still it wasn’t enough.
“Make it stop,” she whispered.
The wolf stepped closer.
The ground barely stirred beneath him.
No sound. No threat.
Just heat in the shape of a beast.
He didn’t touch her.
But his breath reached her skin.
And it helped.
Not much.
Not enough.
But it anchored her.
She whimpered.
He stepped again.
Now only inches away.
His eyes met hers calm and endless and waiting.
She collapsed forward.
Forehead to moss.
Arms folded beneath her.
Not submission.
Not quite.
More like… surrender.
“I can’t take this,” she rasped. “I didn’t ask for this ”
His nose brushed her shoulder.
She gasped.
Her hips jerked up.
It wasn’t s****l not yet.
But her body didn’t care.
Her scent spiked.
He growled low. Deep. Restraint twisted in his every breath.
She knew he wanted her.
She knew he could take her.
Right here.
Right now.
And she wouldn’t stop him.
Not because she wanted to be claimed.
But because she wanted to feel.
His muzzle moved down her back slow, gentle, never touching, just present.
She sobbed once.
Tried to speak.
Failed.
Then whispered:
“Go.”
But her voice betrayed her.
It wasn’t a command.
It was a plea.
And when he stepped away
She hated how empty she felt.
He didn’t leave right away.
Kael’s wolf stood in the clearing like a statue carved from shadow and heat, his eyes never leaving her shaking, raw, glowing faintly with the pulse of the bond.
Sera pressed her forehead to the moss again, hands balled into fists.
Her whole body begged for friction, contact, relief.
But what did she want?
His tongue?
His teeth?
His voice?
His weight?
She didn’t know.
She just wanted to stop feeling like her skin belonged to someone else.
She looked up.
Their eyes locked.
She should’ve snarled.
Should’ve cursed him.
Should’ve crawled away like the girl she used to be.
Instead…
She tilted her chin higher.
Just a little.
Just enough.
Invitation.
He stepped forward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Stopped just before her outstretched hand.
Then lowered his head.
His breath fanned across her belly through the thin cotton of her sweat-drenched shirt.
She moaned.
Quiet.
Broken.
Shameful.
She didn’t move.
She didn’t run.
She didn’t say no.
His muzzle brushed her stomach once.
Slow. Lingering.
Then he turned.
Walked away.
Back into the trees.
Not a sprint.
A retreat.
Her thighs twitched.
Her chest heaved.
And when she finally collapsed into the moss again, sobbing
It wasn’t from fear.
It was because she’d never felt so empty.
So claimed.
So… close.
And she didn’t know if she wanted him to come back.
Or to finish what he started.
But she knew this:
If he came back again
She wouldn’t ask him to stop.
- Writer
