5. Rowan
1013 Words
I was losing.
Pinned against me, she was temptation made flesh. Her scent was rain, her fear and heat coiled straight into my lungs, into my wolf. Her lashes trembled over dark, helpless eyes, her lips were swollen from breath she couldn’t steady. Wet fabric clung, outlining softness, a dangerous hollow at her collarbone that made restraint feel like pain.
The realisation hit with brutal clarity as her breath trembled against mine.
Eliza stood flushed between my body and the wall, eyes closed now, those long lashes dark against flushed skin. Her lips parted slightly, not in invitation but surrender. Fear was still there. Confusion too. But beneath it all, unmistakable and dangerous, was response.
Mine answered it instantly.
My wolf surged forward, roaring approval inside my skull. Mine. Take her. Finish this. Anchor her to you.
Every instinct screamed for it.
I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingers. Smell her fear tangled with something sweeter, warmer, maddening. My control frayed thread by thread, every second stretched thinner than the last.
My lips barely brushing hers. If I leaned in even an inch more, I would not stop.
This was how it happened. Not with force. Not with violence.
With her giving in.
The horror of that snapped something inside me.
I tore myself back as if burned.
My hand dropped from the wall. I stepped away so abruptly she swayed, nearly losing her balance. I turned my face aside, dragging in a breath that did nothing to steady me.
Control. Now.
Behind me, I heard it. Her sharp inhale. The sound of realisation crashing into her.
I did not need to look to know what she was feeling.
Shame. Fear. Revulsion.
The understanding that for one terrifying moment, she had not fought me.
That knowledge was poison.
I clenched my fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. My wolf snarled, furious at the retreat, battering against the restraints I forced down around it.
Weak. You are weak.
No. It was necessary.
I left the room before my restraint shattered completely.
The corridor was blessedly empty, stone walls cool against my burning senses. I moved fast, putting distance between us, between her scent and my failing control. Each step was deliberate, grounding.
The moment the door shut behind me, I braced my hands against the wall and bowed my head.
Get out. Get her scent out of your head.
Her smell clung to me anyway. It was in my lungs, under my skin. My wolf paced, restless and enraged, slamming against my mental barriers.
You felt her. She wanted it.
No. She wanted safety. Comfort. Anything to make the fear stop.
And I had almost taken advantage of that.
I straightened sharply, fury snapping through me, redirected now.
Someone had defied my order.
My voice carried through the mind link, sharp and unforgiving. Bring him. Now.
The response came instantly. Too quickly.
They already knew.
By the time I reached the lower hall, the pack had gathered.
They stood in a loose circle, tension thick in the air. My beta Jackson was there, expression grim. Stephen, my Gamma beside him, jaw tight. In the centre, on his knees, was the wolf who had escorted Eliza out.
He would not meet my gaze.
“Speak,” I asked calmly.
Silence.
I stepped closer. Every pair of eyes tracked me. The room felt coiled, waiting.
“I gave an order,” I said. “She does not leave this house.”
The wolf’s shoulders shook. Sweat beaded at his temple.
“I could not stop,” he said hoarsely. “I heard the voice. It told me to help her.”
A ripple of unease moved through the crowd.
Compulsion.
I knew immediately who was responsible.
My jaw tightened.
But it changed nothing.
I turned slightly, addressing the room now. “You will listen carefully. Every one of you.”
The air felt heavy, charged.
“She is under my protection,” I said. “Whether you like it or not. Whether you understand it or not.”
A few faces hardened. Others looked away.
“Anyone who disobeys my command again will meet the same end.”
The wolf on the floor looked up then, terror finally breaking through the haze clouding his mind.
“I did not mean to,” he whispered. “I could not fight it.”
I believed him.
And I still could not allow it.
I moved faster than thought.
My hand closed around his throat, hauling him to his feet. Gasps rippled through the room. Someone shouted my name.
I ignored it.
“This is not punishment,” I said quietly, close enough that only he could hear. “This is consequence.”
I broke his neck with my bare hands.
The sound was sharp. Final.
His body went limp instantly. I let it fall to the floor without ceremony.
Silence slammed down over the hall.
Then I felt it.
Her.
The door at the top of the stairs creaked open.
I turned just in time to see Eliza frozen there, pale as death, one hand gripping the banister. Her eyes were wide, locked on the body at my feet.
Horror rolled off her in waves.
Her knees buckled.
I crossed the distance in seconds, catching her before she hit the ground. She was shaking violently now, breath coming in shallow gasps, eyes unfocused.
“No,” she whispered. “No no no.”
She tried to pull away, hands pushing weakly against my chest. “You killed him,” she said, voice breaking. “You killed him.”
“Yes,” I said.
The word sounded monstrous even to my own ears.
Her eyes rolled back.
She fainted in my arms.
I lifted her carefully, ignoring the stunned silence behind me, and turned away from the body still cooling on the stone floor.
As I carried her back upstairs, one truth burned through me with relentless certainty.
She would never look at me the same way again.
And I had done it anyway.
- Writer
