CHAPTER 3
857 Words
The night was quiet. Quieter than usual. No crickets, no wind, no sounds from outside.
And that was what was scarier.
I was in the kitchen, preparing milk for Zephyr. He'd been asleep for a while, but his pediatrician said he might wake up in the middle of the night due to a "growth spurt."
Honestly, growth?
He's only five years old, but he's as tall as a seven-year-old.
And just now he ripped the cabinet door off. Accidentally. But how do you accidentally rip off solid wood?
It's puzzling.
I closed my eyes, exhausted. But I still don't know what kind of exhaustion this is exhaustion from being a single mom, or exhaustion from wondering if we're still normal.
Suddenly, I felt a tremor in the floor. It was faint, but enough to stop me in my tracks.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It felt like something was coming. Big. Heavy. Fierce.
I looked at the door. No one was there. But my body started to tremble even though I didn't see any danger.
And then I smelled him.
A scent I'd never experienced from anyone not even Zephyr.
Pungent, but captivating.
And it felt... familiar.
I ranto Zephyr's room. He was still asleep. But even while sleeping, the look on his face showed he felt something strange. As if he was waiting for someone to arrive.
I went back to the living room, and there I saw him. Outside the door. In the light of the streetlamp.
Tall. Muscular. Wearing a black leather jacket. His hair was wet, as if he'd been in the rain. But his eyes were so blue.
My heart pounded.
HIM.
He was the man I slept with five years ago. The man who fathered my son. The man I barely remembered except for his… monstrous kiss.
"Rhysand," he uttered his name, which sent shivers down my spine.
I felt a pang between my thighs not pain, but a memory. A memory of that night. The night he entered my whole being.
The door opened. I didn't open it, but it opened.
"Lysandra," he called. Deep and cold.
But beneath that voice, there was a mixture of longing and anger.
How did he know my name?
"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. But inside, my heart was raging.
He looked around. At the wall. At the door. At the ceiling. As if he was examining everything.
"Do you smell that?" he asked.
I frowned. "Smell?"
"The smell of your blood… and your son's."
My eyes widened. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."
He approached. Slowly. Not aggressively, but enough to make me back away.
"Don't you remember me?" he asked.
"What do you want to happen? That I suddenly jump for joy because you showed up again? You didn't even tell me your name that night!"
My voice was angry, but my knees were shaking.
He smiled. But it wasn't happy. It was a bitter smile.
"I didn't intend to interfere back then. But I didn't know I'd left such a big part of myself with you."
"If you left it, don't come back for it."
"Lysandra… we have a son."
It felt like the world stopped spinning.
The air around me grew heavy. The warmth of my skin suddenly turned cold.
"I-I don't know how you found out. But you can't take him."
My voice was firm, even though I wanted to cry.
He didn't answer. He just looked at me not at my body, but straight into my soul. As if he was looking for an answer in my eyes.
"Lysandra, I won't take him."
I was surprised.
"Instead, I'll protect him."
The surroundings fell silent. The only thing that could be heard was his soft breathing. He was too calm. Too aware of what he was doing.
"What kind of person are you?" I asked.
He didn't answer immediately. He brought his hand close to my heart I couldn't move.
"I'm not human."
"I am the Alpha of the Northern Constellation."
My eyes widened. I didn't know what that meant. But my body? It seemed to react to those words. It went cold. It trembled.
In an instant, I swallowed. I tapped his chest, trying to push him away.
"Leave. I don't need you. We don't need you."
"Maybe you don't need me, Lysandra… but you need to know me."
He looked upwards, at Zephyr's room.
"He's about to shift. You feel it, don't you?" I didn't answer.
"When that happens, you won't be able to stop him. And if I'm not the first to approach him… another wolf will devour him."
My nape heated up. "You have no right to say that!"
"No right? Are you sure?"
He approached me. And for the first time in five years, he took my hand.
Hot. Scalding. But I didn't pull away.
Some say that when a wolf is your soulmate, you'll feel the connection immediately.
Now, I know.
This is the man who would kill for me. And I'm also ready to kill for him.
But for now
I can't forgive him yet.
- Writer
