FOUR: I WANT HIM JUST AS MUCH
1929 Words
REYA’S POV
I didn’t breathe.
I couldn’t.
The moment our voices echoed together—“Mate”—I felt the air shift in the room. It was as if the walls themselves were listening, holding their breath along with me. The word trembled in the space between us like a fragile thread, stretched tight and waiting to snap.
Then, just as quickly, the chatter resumed. Plates clinked. Laughter picked up again. People shifted in their seats and returned to their conversations, not noticing the storm that had just erupted inside me.
Only he noticed.
Only Ashriel.
I looked away from him quickly, forcing my legs to move as someone guided me to an empty chair far from where he sat. I sank into the seat like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
I tried to focus on the table.
Food was being served. Platters of roasted meat, honeyed vegetables, thick bread with melting butter. It smelled good, too good. My stomach growled quietly in protest—I hadn’t eaten all day. But my appetite had vanished the moment his eyes met mine.
Still, I picked up my fork and smiled politely as one of the council members leaned in toward me.
“So, Dr. Dawn,” he said with a warm grin, “we’ve heard so much about your work in the capital. You trained under Master Kilan, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, keeping my voice calm, steady. “I studied emergency care and trauma medicine. I’ve worked in five packs over the last few years. Most recently with the Riverbend pack during their flu outbreak.”
“Impressive,” another councilman chimed in. “And young, too. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Goddess bless,” an older woman said, raising her goblet. “To be so accomplished at that age. Our young girls could learn a thing or two from you.”
I nodded again, swallowing a sip of wine to keep my lips busy. I wasn’t used to this much attention. Not from friendly voices.
For years, I’d trained myself to stay invisible. Quiet. Distant. Safe.
Now, I was in the center of the room, all eyes turning toward me again and again.
Especially his.
Even from across the table, I could feel Ashriel’s gaze. It brushed against my skin like a touch, lingering longer than it should. His eyes were on me every time I dared to glance in his direction.
I hated it.
I hated the heat that curled low in my stomach.
I hated the way my pulse danced every time his voice carried over someone else’s.
I hated how my wolf purred at the sound of it.
No. No. I would not give in to this. Not now. Not ever.
I answered every question the council threw at me with simple, well-rehearsed replies. I kept my voice light, avoided speaking too much about my past. I mentioned nothing about my childhood, nothing about where I grew up, nothing about Nightbane.
To them, I was a healer from the outside. A stranger.
And I wanted to keep it that way.
Then, the question came.
A woman seated near the end of the table—young, beautiful, eyes sharp with curiosity—tilted her head and asked with a smile, “So, Dr. Dawn… someone like you must have men lined up. Do you have a boyfriend back home?”
My body froze.
I could feel his stare digging into my skin, like heat through fabric. The air around me seemed to tighten, crackle with something invisible but far too real.
I gave a soft smile and shook my head. “No,” I said. “I’ve been too focused on my work.”
“Oh, come on,” she said, laughing. “Not even one? No secret lover hidden somewhere?”
“No,” I said again, keeping my tone light. “No one.”
Which was the truth.
Eight years.
Eight years of pushing everyone away.
Eight years of saying no to every touch, every flirt, every smile.
Because I couldn’t risk it. Because nothing ever felt right. Because something inside me had been broken for so long, I didn’t think I’d ever be whole again.
And now—now I knew why.
Because the other half of me was sitting across the room, glaring into my soul.
Ashriel hadn’t said a word since we both whispered that cursed bond into the room. But he didn’t need to. I could feel him. Feel him in every breath, every heartbeat, every tremble in my fingertips.
I wanted to scream.
The dinner dragged on.
Laughter filled the space, and people told stories of old training accidents, border patrols, council gossip. They tried to include me, and I nodded when appropriate, smiled when expected, and kept every emotion locked behind my ribs.
Ashriel didn’t speak. But his eyes never left me.
Every sip of water. Every bite of food. Every small movement—I could feel the heat of his attention. Like his gaze had weight. Like it wanted to peel away the layers of who I was and get to something deeper. Something hidden.
My hands started to shake beneath the table.
He knows. He knows it’s me.
He knows who I really am.
Paranoia curled in my chest like smoke. I pressed my thighs together under the table, trying to stop the anxious shaking in my knees.
Calm down, I told myself. He can’t know. Not for sure.
But my wolf was restless.
She kept pressing forward, pushing against the inside of my skin like she wanted to get to him. Like she didn’t care about my hate. Like she had waited eight years to return to him.
I nearly flinched when the Alpha’s voice broke through the noise.
“Thank you, everyone,” Ashriel said, rising slowly to his feet. “You may go. I’d like a moment with our guest.”
I stopped breathing.
A moment? With me?
No. No, no, no.
I stood quickly, grabbing my bag. “Actually, I should get going. It’s been a long day, and I’d like to rest before—”
“Stay,” he said, voice smooth but firm. “Just a moment.”
The room emptied slowly. The others didn’t seem surprised. They whispered their goodbyes to me with warm smiles, offering to show me around tomorrow or drop off fresh bread in the morning. But their voices were distant.
My heartbeat was too loud.
When the last of the guests left, I turned to the nearest window, clutching the strap of my bag.
He moved closer, his presence filling the room like smoke.
I didn’t turn to face him, “You wanted to speak to me, Alpha?” I asked carefully.
There was a pause. Then, soft footsteps behind me.
“Do I know you?” he asked, voice low.
I turned, just slightly. My pulse raced, but I kept my expression neutral. “I don’t think so.”
He didn’t look convinced. He moved closer, only a few feet away now.
Something flickered in his eyes. Something that wasn’t quite anger… but wasn’t soft either.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“I travel a lot.”
“And before that?”
I blinked. “I was born far from here. My family moved often.”
He studied me.
Then his gaze dipped—to my lips, to my throat, to the long sleeves covering my wrists.
I hated how aware I was of his eyes. Hated that his presence made my skin buzz. Hated the fire low in my belly that I couldn’t put out.
He took one more step towards me as I moved backwards. My back nearly touched the wall behind me.
“Your eyes,” he said softly. “They’re… different. But beautiful.”
I stared at him. My breath caught again.
“They’re not real,” I almost blurted. “They’re—”
But I stopped myself.
He reached out before I could move away.
His fingers curled gently around my wrist.
I gasped. The touch sent a jolt straight through my chest.
I looked down at where he held me.
His hand was warm and strong which made my wolf to nearly whimper.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, pulling his hand back. “I didn’t mean to…”
His words trailed off.
We both stared at each other.
The silence was thick, heavy, tangled with something I refuse to acknowledge.
I hated him.
I hated the way my body responded to his closeness. I hated the way my heart wanted to leap toward him, to believe in fate and bonds and all the things I swore I’d never trust again.
I hated how right it felt.
I looked into his eyes and saw none of the boy I had once loved, none of the man who had broken me.
I looked into his eyes and hated what I felt.
Because beneath the fire of anger and grief, beneath the tightly stitched seams of the life I had carefully rebuilt, something dangerous stirred. Longing.
He stepped closer. Too close.
The wall pressed against my back now, cold and solid, but it couldn’t anchor me. I felt weightless—adrift in something I didn’t understand.
Ashriel raised a hand, hesitating just before his fingers touched my cheek. His gaze burned into mine, questioning but sure, as if he already knew the answer.
I didn’t stop him. I didn’t move. His thumb brushed the side of my jaw, light as a feather, yet it set every nerve in my body on fire. My breath caught, shallow and uneven. My lips parted slightly, not in protest—but invitation.
No.
I shouldn’t want this.
I shouldn’t want him.
But I did.
And when he leaned in—slowly, cautiously, the way a man does when he knows the world might end from one kiss—I tilted my chin without thinking.
His breath fanned against my lips. My heart thundered so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
Then the door creaked open.
We both froze, inches apart, not touching, but charged with electricity.
A woman stood in the doorway. Her brown curls spilled over her shoulders, catching the candlelight, and her piercing blue eyes swept the room quickly—landing first on Ashriel, then on me.
Her gaze flickered at the both of us as if suspecting something.
She didn’t say anything, but her expression shifted in that quiet, knowing way women do when they walk into something they weren’t supposed to see. The air changed again—tense, electric, awkward.
Ashriel stepped back, his expression hardening instantly,
“Dr. Liana,” he said, his voice smooth, unbothered, but his jaw was tight. “Is something wrong?”
She didn’t answer right away.
Her eyes flicked between us once more, and I felt a flush rise up my neck. I looked away, staring at the floor, at the scuffed corner of the table leg, anywhere but at her. Anywhere but at him.
Shame burned through me. Shame that I had wanted him to kiss me. The man who had killed my parents. The man I was supposed to hate.
I swallowed hard, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Liana said finally. Her voice was calm, smooth as silk, but I caught the sharp undertone. “We’ve got a problem.”
- Writer
