The wolf I Loved Twice

My Hands Remember You Violet

“RayRay, for the love of all things holy stop drying the dishes with my underwear!”

I burst into the kitchen to find him mid motion, proudly holding my favorite pink lace thong as he wiped the inside of a mug. He blinked at me, then slowly looked down at the lacy fabric in his hand.

“This isn’t a towel?” he asked, voice deadly serious.

I could’ve died.

“No,” I gasped, grabbing it from him like a scandalized librarian. “That’s lingerie, not a dish rag!”

“Oh.” He looked confused. “But it was just hanging there on the line with the others”

“It’s delicates! You don’t just ugh!” I turned around, face flaming.

I heard him chuckle behind me. Bastard.

“You’re never doing laundry again,” I muttered, trying not to laugh.

That was the thing about RayRay.

He was a walking contradiction.

One minute, he was picking up a twenty pound bag of cement like it was a pillow. The next, he was staring at a vacuum like it was a hostile alien.

He was chaos. But sweet, loving chaos.

And I was getting used to him.

Too used to him.

Three weeks in, I started noticing things.

Like how he always hummed when he was doing dishes. How he used my conditioner, and the bathroom smelled like coconuts for hours after. How he always waited up for me when I worked late even if I said not to.

And I started noticing other things.

Like how his towel always seemed to fall when he walked out of the shower.

And how every time he stretched, that one deep V cut leading from his hips made me forget my own name.

It was criminal how good he looked with wet hair.

Even worse, he didn’t even know.

One night, I came back from a long shift, soaked from a sudden rainstorm. My old car broke down halfway home, and I had to walk two blocks in my soaked jeans.

When I walked through the door, RayRay was on the couch in just boxers, scrolling through the TV. He jumped up as soon as he saw me.

“Violet? What happened?” He rushed over, eyes scanning me head to toe.

“Car’s dead. Rain’s a b***h,” I muttered, hugging myself.

He didn’t hesitate. He pulled me into his arms.

I froze.

He was warm. So warm. His chest bare, solid, heartbeat calm and steady.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured, rubbing my back. “Come on.”

He led me to the bathroom and started the shower for me. Steam filled the small space in seconds.

“You should get in before you catch something,” he said, handing me a towel.

“Thanks,” I said, cheeks burning.

I waited for him to leave. He didn’t.

Instead, he just stood there, leaning against the doorframe, watching me.

“What?” I asked, biting my lip.

“I should probably... stay. Just in case you faint or something.”

I raised a brow. “You think I’m that weak?”

He smirked. “I think you’re that stubborn.”

Fair.

But my heart was pounding for a very different reason.

“Fine,” I said, slowly pulling my soaked shirt over my head.

His jaw clenched. His gaze didn’t leave mine. I could feel his eyes on my body like heat.

“You can turn around, you know,” I teased.

“No,” he said simply.

I blushed. I stepped into the shower.

The hot water hit my skin, and I exhaled.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about him just on the other side of that glass.

Could he see the outline of my body?

Did he want to?

And why did I want him to?

Rayn (POV)

The sound of water. The way it hit her skin. The soft, feminine sigh she let out.

It was torture.

She didn’t know how hard it was to hold back.

I didn’t know who I was. But I knew what I felt.

When Violet touched me, something shifted inside me. A pull. A burn. Like I was made to protect her. Like my body remembered her even if my mind didn’t.

And when she called me RayRay something about it healed a part of me I didn’t know was broken.

Violet

The next morning, I found RayRay in the backyard. He was shirtless again. (Surprise, surprise.)

But what really caught my attention was the glow.

Not the kind from the sun.

His scars gone.

The bruises? Faded.

His skin shimmered faintly under the moonlight, almost like... silver. Not sweat. Not oil. Something else. Something wrong. Or maybe too right to be normal.

I stepped closer, barefoot on the grass.

“RayRay?” I called.

He didn’t answer. He was still. Almost... entranced.

I reached out and touched his hand.

And then it hit me. Electricity.

Not just a tingle. Not static. But a full body jolt that made my breath catch and my knees weaken.

My vision blurred.

For a split second, I saw something.

A fire. A forest. A necklace.

A boy with glowing eyes.

But it vanished as quickly as it came.

RayRay blinked, turning to me like he just woke up from a dream.

“Violet?” he said, his voice confused.

I swallowed. “You... you were glowing.”

He frowned, looking at his hands. “I don’t feel anything.”

My fingers tingled where I touched him.

I lied. “Must’ve been my imagination.”

He gave me a small, uncertain nod. “Okay.”

But I couldn’t sleep that night.

Because it wasn’t my imagination.

A weeks In

Our routine became us.

I cooked. He cleaned.

He worked. I studied.

He smiled. I melted.

I touched him. He blushed.

Somewhere between laundry and late night snacks, he became more than a guest.

He became... my person.

One night, we sat on the roof.

He handed me a cup of cocoa his new specialty.

“Why do you always sit with your legs like that?” he asked, motioning to how I sat criss crossed.

“Because I’m a child at heart,” I replied.

He nodded. “That makes sense. You do whine like one.”

I gasped, laughing as I hit him with a pillow.

He caught it, flipped me over, and in a second, I was flat on my back, his body hovering over mine.

His breath hitched. So did mine. His eyes dropped to my lips. I didn’t stop him. He leaned in. Then My phone rang. We both froze. I groaned. “Stupid real world.”He helped me up, but his hand lingered on my waist. I didn’t want him to let go.