chapter 2
877 Words
Selene didn’t sleep.
She didn’t even lie down.
She sat curled on the edge of her narrow cabin bed, blanket around her shoulders, staring through the window as if the forest might stare back.
What she’d seen wasn’t a hallucination.
Wasn’t an animal.
Wasn’t human.
And the part that kept her chest tight?
It had spared her.
Her recorder was on the table. She pressed play.
Static. Her shaky breathing. The branch snapping.
Then—
That sound.
The deep rumble that wasn’t a growl or a word but something that rooted itself in her bones and refused to leave.
Her hand flew to the recorder, slamming it off.
She dragged both palms down her face. “I’m not losing it. I know what I saw.”
The forest beyond the glass looked peaceful.
Untouched.
As if it hadn’t birthed a creature with eyes that understood her.
Morning came gray and heavy, like even the sun was afraid of Gray Pine. Selene strapped on her backpack—camera, flashlight, pepper spray, completely useless bravery—and stepped outside.
She was going back.
Fear wasn’t enough to stop her.
Not when Jonah was missing.
Not when a creature like that existed.
Not when curiosity was louder than common sense.
Deep in Gray Pine Territory…
Kael knelt at the riverbank, steam curling from his bare skin as cold water lapped gently against his fingers. He had shifted hours ago, yet the wild rhythm under his skin hadn’t settled.
Something was wrong with him.
He could still smell her.
Her scent clung to him like memory—paper, pine needles, rain… and a warmth he didn’t have a name for.
His wolf prowled inside him, restless.
Human.
Mine, something deeper answered.
Kael’s jaw tightened.
He slammed his palm into the water, splashing cold across his face. The sensation did nothing to quiet the pull. The instinct. The inexplicable, dangerous urge to—
Protect.
It made no sense.
He had lived twenty-seven years avoiding humans, avoiding attachment, avoiding anything that wasn’t survival.
Then she appeared with wide eyes and a trembling voice and suddenly every rule inside him broke.
He hated it.
Hated that when she screamed, something in him recoiled.
Hated that when she fell, his body moved without thought.
Most of all—
He hated that he wanted to see her again.
The forest warned him before sound did.
A presence.
Light footsteps.
Steady heartbeat.
Determined.
Too determined.
His lip curled. “She came back,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, barely used, scraping against his throat.
Inside him, the wolf stirred.
Of course she did.
Back on the trail…
Selene retraced her steps from yesterday, each c***k of a twig sending shivers down her spine. Her breath was too loud. Her heartbeat too obvious.
The deeper she walked, the more the forest felt aware of her.
Watching. Waiting.
She took one more step—
And the world stilled.
Wind paused.
Birds silenced.
The air thickened, heavy with presence.
Selene froze.
A tall figure stepped from between the trees.
He was not on four legs this time.
He stood upright.
A man’s silhouette—broad shoulders, powerful muscles, skin marked by forest and rain. Dark hair fell in wild waves, partially damp, as if the world couldn’t decide if he belonged to it.
But those eyes…
Amber. Deep. Ancient.
The same eyes that had stared into her soul last night.
Werewolf.
Man.
Something more.
Selene’s breath hitched.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just looked at her—slow, deliberate, intense—like he could hear every racing beat in her chest.
Not predator.
Not prey.
Something stranger.
A puzzle studying another puzzle.
Her lips parted. “Uh… hi.”
His brow lifted—barely a twitch, but somehow more expressive than a full sentence.
“You can… understand me?” she asked carefully.
He said nothing.
She pointed at him. “Human?”
Then the trees. “Wolf thing?”
His exhale was sharp, almost a snort.
Not angry.
Not amused.
More like: You are unbearable.
Selene frowned. “That’s not a yes or a no.”
He crouched suddenly, picked up a stone, and dropped it at her boots.
She blinked at it.
Then at him.
“…A rock,” she said slowly.
He tapped the ground once.
Earth.
Then pointed to her boots.
She squinted. “…I walk on earth too?”
He closed his eyes, head dropping a little like she exhausted him on a spiritual level.
She raised her hands. “Okay, okay, communication is hard. Let’s try again.”
She leaned down, picked up the stone, holding it between them. “Are you testing my intelligence or trying to talk to me?”
Silence.
Then—soft, rough, a human voice pushed through a throat not used to speaking—
“Both.”
The word hit her like a shock.
Her lips parted. “Y-you can talk.”
His gaze sharpened. “Little.”
Little was enough.
Little meant everything.
Because now she knew:
He wasn’t just a creature.
He was a man with instincts older than language.
A man who saved her.
A man who watched her.
A man who shouldn’t exist.
And God help her…
She wanted to know him anyway.
- Writer
