Sanctum
1139 Words
Lizzy’s POV
I didn’t think it would feel like this.
I thought rejecting my pack would crack something open—shatter me. That my body would crumble from the pain. That the tether would snap like a spine.
Instead?
It burned.
Briefly. Brutally.
Then it was gone.
And in its place… silence.
Not peace. Not yet.
Just absence.
Like a room stripped of furniture. Like a name no one would call again.
I stared at the dying fire, its glow casting warped shapes across the cabin walls. Every part of me ached—raw, tender, like I'd been peeled open and left exposed.
Across the room, Varek stood like he had since the moment we returned. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, jaw clenched tight. Like he was trying to hold himself together with sheer force of will.
We hadn’t spoken since the clearing.
Since I’d told my father to leave.
Since I’d made it very clear I wasn’t his anymore.
“You’re quiet,” I said finally, voice barely more than a breath.
Varek didn’t look at me. Just kept his gaze fixed on the window, like something outside had teeth.
“Too loud in here,” he said. “You’re… thinking too much.”
I blinked. “That’s creepy. And not exactly comforting.”
Still no smile. But his jaw relaxed slightly.
“I can feel your energy,” he said. “The shift in your aura. It’s… different.”
“Well, I did just sever a blood bond,” I muttered. “That’ll mess with a girl.”
Silence again.
I watched the way the firelight danced on his skin—bronzed and scarred in places, a map of battles I’d never seen. I wanted to trace them. Learn him.
Instead, I asked the question that had been haunting me.
“Why were your kind hiding?”
He finally turned.
Those silver eyes locked on mine.
“We weren’t hiding,” he said. “We were hunted.”
My breath caught.
His voice didn’t soften. “Lycāns were the first. Pure. Whole. Not human with a wolf inside. Not beast in a man’s skin. Both. Balanced. That terrified your kind.”
I sat up straighter. “So the stories…”
“Were rewritten,” he said. “To make you afraid. Easier to erase what you don’t understand than admit you were never the strongest.”
Nyra stirred inside me. Her voice low. Steady.
Truth.
I swallowed. “You’ve seen it happen?”
He nodded. “I was born into it. Raised under a father who believed peace was weakness. He trained me for one thing.”
“To kill?” I asked.
“To become a weapon.”
There was no pride in his voice. No shame, either.
Just… fact.
I pulled the blanket tighter around my body. “So all that cold, emotionless brooding isn’t a personality quirk. It’s programming.”
He tilted his head.
“Is that what you think I am? A brooding cliché?”
“Well,” I said, lifting a brow. “You do talk like an ancient prophecy in boots. Do you ever say anything without sounding like you stepped out of a cursed scroll?”
He blinked.
Then—faintly—his mouth twitched.
Just a little.
Enough.
“I wasn’t allowed to leave our realm,” he said. “Not until the dreams started.”
“Of me?”
He nodded once.
“You were running through fire. Through ash. Always just out of reach.”
Something about that made my chest ache.
“You followed the dream,” I whispered.
“I followed the bond.”
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate.
I didn’t move.
“You never looked for me,” he said.
“I didn’t know I could,” I replied.
Now he was in front of me.
Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
“You trust me,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
His hand came up, fingertips brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. His touch was reverent. Like he was afraid I’d vanish.
“I fought it,” he said. “This pull. This bond. I thought if I stayed away long enough, it would break.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No,” he said softly. “It made me want.”
The word hit something low in my stomach.
Want.
Need.
Him.
He kissed me.
It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t careful.
It was hungry.
His mouth claimed mine like I was air. Like he hadn’t breathed in centuries.
I gasped as he backed me into the bedpost, hands fisting in the fabric at my hips, dragging me closer.
My body melted into his. There was no thought—only sensation.
Only the fever under my skin.
When he lifted me onto the bed, my pulse thundered in my ears.
“Wait,” I said, breathless. “This isn’t just... heat, right?”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
His mouth moved down my neck, teeth grazing the skin where a mark would one day live.
“Your first time,” he murmured.
“Yes,” I breathed.
He froze—just for a second.
Then pulled back enough to meet my eyes.
“I’m not gentle.”
“I’m not asking for gentle,” I whispered.
His expression darkened.
Then clothes vanished.
His.
Mine.
There was no hesitation.
Just heat.
And need.
And skin.
His body was all strength—scarred muscle, shadows, and fire. My fingers traced lines I didn’t understand, symbols inked across his back and chest.
I wasn’t afraid.
I should’ve been.
But my wolf trusted him.
And so did I.
He kissed me again, slower now. Tongue and teeth. Heat and promise. His hands gripped my thighs, spread me open. When he slid inside me—slow, full, deep—I gasped, arching into him.
It burned.
But it was beautiful.
His hands pinned mine above my head, and he moved—slow, controlled. A rhythm that built like thunder in my blood.
“Say it,” he rasped.
“I’m yours,” I whispered.
The bond between us snapped like a live wire.
He growled against my skin—low and primal.
And when I came, it was a freefall. A storm.
A letting go.
He followed, every part of him trembling against me, his mouth at my throat, whispering things I didn’t understand—but felt.
When it was over, we lay tangled together—bodies still burning, hearts still racing.
He traced his fingers along my ribs, like he was memorizing me.
And I realized something terrifying.
I’d never been more vulnerable.
Never been more exposed.
But I didn’t feel broken.
I felt claimed.
Changed.
- Writer
