Chapter 3
1111 Words
Iris's mind race as she yanks Noel down the stairs, the sensation of the house being on fire prickling at her nerves.
"What was that all about?" Noel asks, confusion etched across his face.
Why is her wolf here? Who is that man? A fragment of her soul aches to spin around and rush back to him—but she steels herself. I must be losing it.
"IRIS!"
"Yeah?" she snaps, irritation flashing.
"What's going on?" She can hear the concern in Noel's voice.
"Just some jerk," she dismisses, voice tight.
"Jeez! Don't you know who that guy is?"
"No, and I don't want to know," she scoffs.
"That's Geraldo Devin," Noel states, eyes wide. Just hearing the name makes her knees weaken—Geraldo...
"I said I don't want to know! I don't care who Geraldo Devin is—drop it," she demands, force in her voice.
"Did he hurt you?" Noel probes, scanning her carefully.
"No! Why would you think that?"
"He's got a bad reputation," he replies softly, worry lining his features.
A lump forms in her throat at his words.
"What do you mean?" she asks, voice trembling slightly.
"He's ruthless and dangerous. If you see him, go the other way. Promise me that, Iris."
"Believe me, I intend to," she assures him, though the words tighten her chest and make her wolf growl ominously in her mind. Why is she here now?
Noel notices her distress and pulls her into a comforting hug, gently stroking her back like she's fragile glass. That's when she spots Geraldo standing behind him, his eyes blazing with palpable fury. His muscles taut, his posture ready to shift at any moment.
The chilling echoes of "This isn't over" resound ominously in her mind.
"Do you want to leave?" Noel asks softly.
"Yes, please. I think I've had enough excitement for one night."
He holds her hand as they walk to the car. On the drive home, she notices him casting frequent glances her way but remains silent.
"Alright, spill. What's going on?" she presses.
"Spill what?" he responds, keeping his eyes on the road, clearly uncomfortable.
"You're acting weird—glancing at me like I've got a secret," she says.
He hesitates, then finally sighs. "It's Geraldo. He's not just any guy—he's dangerous. And I think he knows more than he's letting on."
Her heart pounds harder. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, be careful around him. And don't trust him. Also you're acting different,"
"Why?" Iris asked aloud, half-heartedly.
"I can't quite pin it down... maybe it's the Crescent Nightingale. Some wolves change during that time," he said, glancing at the road with narrowed eyes.
"Change?" she prompted.
"Yeah, or perhaps it's more like growing up—that's what you need, right?" He shot her a smirk.
"Ugh, Noel, you're such an ass sometimes!"
"But you love me anyway."
"No, I don't," she teased, sticking out her tongue, and they both burst into laughter.
Later, lying in bed, Iris tossed and turned, her thoughts swirling. Noel's comment about meeting her mate soon lingered in her mind.
'A mate? No way—definitely not for me.'
What did he mean by suggesting she wasn't acting like herself? She felt no different.
'What if something is wrong with me?'
Then there was Geraldo—his gray eyes and midnight black hair. Who was he, and why did she care?
Noel had warned her to stay away from him, saying he was dangerous, but Iris wasn't convinced.
And if he was dangerous, what did Geraldo mean by "this isn't over"? Had that been a threat?
Why would he threaten her when they'd never even met?
Why did that man affect her so much? She blushed at the memory of his body pressed against hers, his warm breath on her skin, the intense attraction she felt.
'Stop it—don't go there!'
Why was she lying here thinking about him? Sure, Geraldo was ridiculously attractive, but he was still an asshole!
Iris scolded herself—she shouldn't be dwelling on those thoughts or obsessing over his incredible physique.
'Stop it!' Nothing about him was amazing at all!
Why couldn't men be more like Noel—sweet and charming?
Feeling restless, Iris slipped out of bed and raced into the forest, moving as quickly as her legs could carry her, embodying her human form.
She had no destination in mind, but a strange instinct seemed to guide her. Tonight, the forest felt enchanted, as if sprinkled with violet glitter.
Even in the darkness, her vision was sharp. She effortlessly leapt over bushes and rocks, feeling invigorated and alive. Something pulled her deeper into the woods, and she couldn't get there fast enough.
When she paused to catch her breath, a thick violet mist swirled around her, limiting her view to only a few feet ahead.
The familiar scent teased her senses, flooding her with warmth and calming her muscles. It was alluring, almost intoxicating. She inhaled deeply, craving more—
Where had she smelled it before?
Dizziness washed over her, her breath quickening. Something was missing—just beyond reach.
She sensed someone watching her.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" she called softly, searching every direction but receiving no answer.
Cautiously, she moved through the mist, trusting her instincts to guide her.
Suddenly, her eyes caught a pair of gray ones—Geraldo. Why was he here?
"This isn't over..." she gasped as his commanding voice echoed in her mind, urging her to undress and touch herself, demanding surrender.
To her shock, she obeyed without hesitation.
Iris let her gown pool on the floor, her movements languid as she shed her undergarments. One hand caressed her breast, the other descending to her core.
A soft moan escaped her lips as a finger slipped inside. He was closer now, yet still distant. She ached for his touch. Then, she saw him—naked, eyes dark with desire, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His fangs extended before he shifted, a wolf lunging.
She awoke screaming, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. It had been a nightmare, yet the fire still burned within her, igniting a desperate need to run to him.
This twisted longing, born from a dream where he'd threatened her life, was unsettling. She felt broken, irreparably damaged.
Lying back, she gazed at the ceiling. Dawn approached, sleep a distant memory.
A long run, she decided, might help. She envisioned the feel of grass beneath her paws, the wind in her fur, the forest's scent—anything to cleanse her mind of him—Mr. Sexy, or rather, Mr. Asshole.
- Writer
