Chapter12
1229 Words
Samara's POV
I tossed and turned, my restless body searching for the most favorable conditions to fall asleep, but to no avail.
Sleep never came.
I spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the moment I almost had with Michael.
The way his breath had mingled with mine, the way his hand had cradled my face, and the way my lips had almost touched his. I had pulled back at the last second, fear overriding every other emotion.
Now, regret claws at my chest.
Why did I stop? Was it fear of Michael? No. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s her. Natalie.
I don’t know much about her, but I’ve seen enough to know she’s fiercely possessive over Michael. I’ve seen the way she looks at him, like she would burn the entire world down if it meant keeping him.
If she ever found out that I had almost kissed him… I don’t even want to think about it.
But no matter how much fear grips me, it will never stop me from stepping into Sky Bridge territory again.
Michael and I won’t talk about the kiss. It’d be as if it never happened. We were going to pretend, ignore, bury it.
“But it doesn’t change the way your body reacts every time you're near him.” A voice at the back of my head reminds me.
******
By the time I arrive at the pack house for our third session this week, something feels… off.
Michael leans against the porch railing, his head bowed in thought. The usual sharp confidence in his posture is missing. His aura, usually a commanding presence, was replaced with a sense of vulnerability.
"Michael?" I call out hesitantly.
He looks up, surprised at first, then rubs the back of his neck. "You're early.”
"You're distracted." I take a step closer. "What’s wrong?"
He hesitates, then looks at me with a soft expression. "I hate it," he says quietly.
I frowned. "Hate what?"
"My lack of control." His voice is low, almost apologetic. "I should be stronger than this, Samara. An Alpha should never struggle to control himself.”
I understand what he means. His bloodlust.
The thing that had almost cost me my life: A part of me felt happy that he felt guilty but another part felt pity for him.
"You think it makes you weak?" I ask softly.
Michael exhales sharply and looks away. "Doesn't it?"
I shook my head. “You're not weak because you're struggling, Michael. You're brave because you're still standing.”
He met my gaze, his eyes intense and searching.
He steps closer, his fingers grazing my face. "You make it sound so simple." His voice is low and rough.
"It is," I whisper.
Michael exhales sharply, his thumb grazing my cheek. I should step back. I should stop this before it goes too far—
But I don’t.
Instead, when he tilts my chin up, I let him. And when he leans in, I don’t pull away, rather, place my arms around his neck pulling him closer.
This time, I let it happen.
The kiss is slow at first, hesitant, as if we’re both testing the waters. But then, something snaps. Michael wraps an arm around my waist, the other threading into my hair. I melt against him, my hands gripping his shirt, anchoring myself as the world tilts.
Heat rushes through me as his lips move against mine, urgent now, demanding. I feel his fingers tighten on my waist, pressing me against him, and a soft gasp escapes my lips as he deepens the kiss.
This is dangerous.
This is reckless.
And I don’t care.
Michael walks me backward until my back hits the wall of the pack house. His hands slide down my sides as he lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist, inviting him in. I feel his breath against my skin, his lips trailing kisses down my neck.
His hands slip beneath my shirt, fingers grazing my bare skin. I shudder, tilting my head back as his lips brush my jaw. His hands locate my t**s, and he pinches them enough for a soft moan to escape my lips.
And then,
We snap out of it.
Michael's body tenses, his breath catching. His fingers clench my waist as he puts me down as he jerks away.
"s**t," he mutters, running a hand through his hair.
Reality crashes down on me. I staggered back, pressing a hand to my chest, my heart pounding loudly. What the hell did we just do?
I won’t wait for an answer.
I turned and ran.
****
I didn’t return the next day.
Shame burns through me at the thought of facing Michael again. I don’t know what’s worse; losing control like that or knowing that I wanted to lose control. That I wanted him.
When the day of our fourth session arrived, I still hadn’t gone.
Lucian doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t say I told you so or gives me one of those Michael is dangerous sermons. Instead, he simply watches me, his gaze unreadable.
But when the fifth session came, I dressed up to go when he spoke,
"Don't go today," Lucian says firmly.
I paused, dropping the brush I used for brushing my hair. "Why?"
"I don’t know," he mutters, frustrated. "I just have a bad feeling."
I hesitate. Lucian is never this direct unless he’s certain of something. A part of me wants to listen to him, to stay back where it’s safe. But the other part knows that I can’t keep running from Michael.
"I'll be fine," I say, forcing a smile.
Lucian throws his hands in the air, but he doesn’t argue. He just shakes his head.
I leave quickly before he can stop me.
******
When I arrive at the Sky Bridge pack house, the atmosphere is different.
Michael was already waiting for me in the training room, his shoulders tense, his eyes darker than usual. The moment I step inside, something shifts in the air.
He looks at me, and for the first time, I don’t see just Michael.
I see a monster, a part of him I have never seen before.
He moves too fast. One second, we’re standing apart, and the next, his hand is wrapped around my wrist, pulling me closer. His grip is tight. Almost painful.
"Michael," I whispered, suddenly uneasy.
He doesn’t respond. His eyes keep switching between black and silver.
And then I realize he’s losing control.
Panic floods my veins, but before I can step back, Michael’s grip tightens. His gaze locks onto mine, hunger flashing in his expression.
"Leave," he growls, his voice deep and rough.
I shook my head. "Michael, I-"
"Get out!" He screams in my face. "Don’t come back here, Samara." Ever."
His fangs lengthen. His pupils dilate.
I take a step back, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. "Michael, please-"
"I don't want to hurt you," he says, his voice cracking. His body trembles, and I can see the struggle in his eyes. "Next time, I won't be able to stop.”
A warning. He's giving me a last chance to leave.
Tears burn my eyes as I take one last look at him—the man and the monster battling for control.
Then, I turned and ran.
- Writer
