Chapter 5:Tense First Encounter
1198 Words
(Penny’s POV)
The cave was smaller than it looked from the outside.
Roots dangled like skeletal fingers from the low ceiling, brushing the top of my head every time I shifted. The air was damp and cool, smelling of wet earth and iron, his blood, mostly. Moonlight (or whatever weird silvery light passed for it here) slipped through the narrow opening in thin, pale ribbons, just enough to see by without a flashlight.
I sat with my back against the opposite wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them like that would keep the panic from spilling out. Genesis hadn’t moved since I’d dragged him in here. His breathing had evened out, slow, deep, the kind of rhythm that said his body was already working on repairs. Werewolf healing. I’d written about it enough times to know the basics: accelerated metabolism, rapid cell regeneration, the works. Still, watching it happen in real time was something else.
His chest rose. Fell. Rose again.
Every few minutes, a faint tremor ran through him, like a shiver he couldn’t quite suppress. Shock, probably. Or pain breaking through whatever natural anesthetic his kind had.
I should have left.
I kept telling myself that.
I could slip out right now, while he was out cold. Head back toward… somewhere. Anywhere that wasn’t this cave with a half-dead alpha prince who’d called me a fool the second he woke up.
But every time I thought about standing, my legs refused to cooperate.
I’d saved him.
If I walked away now and he bled out, or worse, if one of those rival wolves found him like this—I’d never forgive myself.
Besides.
Part of me, the stupid, romantic, fiction-addicted part, wanted to see what happened next.
In the book, this was the moment Elara tended his wounds in secret, bandaged him while he slept, and when he woke, he looked at her like she was the first real thing he’d ever seen. Then the growling started. The pinning. The claiming tension that made readers fan themselves.
In real life, he’d hissed at me like I was a stray cat who’d wandered too close.
Romantic.
I snorted softly.
He stirred.
Just a twitch at first, fingers curling against the emergency blanket. Then his head turned, cheek scraping the rough stone wall. A low groan escaped him, more animal than human.
I froze.
His eyes opened slowly. Storm-gray, still glassy with pain, but clearer than before. He blinked once. Twice. Focused on me.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then he tried to sit up.
“Don’t,” I said quickly. “You’ll tear everything open again.”
He ignored me, of course he did, and pushed himself upright anyway. The blanket slipped to his lap. Fresh blood welled along the edge of the dressing on his side. He hissed through his teeth, one hand pressing hard against the wound.
“Stubborn i***t,” I muttered, already moving toward him.
He snarled, low, warning.
I stopped halfway, hands raised. “I’m not touching you unless you let me check the bandage. You’re bleeding again. See?”
He looked down. Saw the red seeping through the gauze. His jaw clenched so hard I heard teeth grind.
“Leave it,” he growled.
“And let you bleed out in a cave? No thanks. I didn’t drag your heavy ass in here just to watch you die of stupidity.”
His eyes flicked to mine, sharp, assessing. “You talk too much.”
“Yeah, well, you growl too much. We’re even.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable.
He exhaled through his nose, a sound that was half sigh, half frustrated rumble. Then, slowly, he lowered his hand.
I took that as permission.
I knelt beside him, careful, slow, like approaching a wounded animal that might still bite. I peeled back the edge of the dressing just enough to see. The claw marks were already knitting at the edges, pink, raw tissue closing faster than any human wound ever could. But the deepest part was still open, still oozing.
“Impressive,” I said despite myself. “Most people would need stitches and a week in bed for this.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No kidding.”
I reached for fresh gauze. He tensed when my fingers brushed his skin, barely, but I felt it.
“Easy,” I murmured. “Just cleaning it again. Won’t hurt.”
He didn’t answer. Just watched me with those unnerving eyes as I worked. Wiped away fresh blood. Applied new antiseptic. Packed fresh gauze. Taped it down with medical tape that looked comically small against his broad ribs.
When I was done, I sat back on my heels.
“There. Try not to rip it open again for at least… five minutes?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“You’re not afraid,” he said. Quiet. Almost curious.
I met his gaze. “I’m terrified. I just hide it better than most.”
Something flickered in his expression, surprise, maybe. Or amusement. Hard to tell with all the blood and shadows.
“Why help me?”
“Because I’m a nurse. It’s literally my job to stop people from bleeding to death. Even grumpy ones.”
He studied me for a long moment.
“You’re not from here.”
“Not even close.”
“Then why are you here?”
I laughed, short, bitter. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting in a cave arguing with a werewolf prince who keeps trying to bleed out on me.”
His brows lifted slightly. “You know what I am.”
“I know a lot of things.” Too much. Way too much.
He shifted, wincing as the movement pulled at his side. “And you still stayed.”
“I’m starting to regret it.”
A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Gone in an instant.
“You should leave,” he said. “The packs are still hunting. They’ll scent the blood. Mine. Yours. Doesn’t matter.”
“I know.”
“So go.”
I looked at the cave entrance. Dark forest beyond. Howls faint but still there, drifting on the wind like smoke.
I looked back at him.
“Not yet.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because if I leave and you die, I’ll hate myself forever. And I’ve got enough self-loathing to deal with already.”
He stared at me like I’d said something in a foreign language.
Then he closed his eyes, head tipping back against the wall.
“Foolish human,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I get that a lot.”
I stayed where I was, knees aching, heart still racing, watching the rise and fall of his chest until his breathing deepened again. Not unconscious this time. Just resting. Healing.
The howls outside grew distant.
I didn’t move.
Not yet.
Because stupid or not, terrified or not…
I wasn’t ready to leave the story I’d walked into.
Not when the main character was finally looking at me like I might actually matter.
- Writer
