4
1085 Words
RAVEN’S POV.
The desert swallows us whole.
Cole doesn’t stop until the lights of the city have died behind us, until the road turns dark.
And I am trapped.
His bike moves fast; mine was abandoned back at the bar. His arm is holding mine to his waist, holding me against him as if I will vanish the second he loosens his grip. Every breath I take is filled with his scent and every nerve in my body screams at the closeness.
At the heart of his body.
My wolf is frantic, caught between thrashing against him and pressing closer, closer, desperate to sink into what she knows is ours.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can only feel.
When he finally slows, the silence is deafening. Not a soul in sight. Just us, the night, and the bond clawing us raw.
He kills the engine.
The world stops roaring. My heart does not.
The second his arm loosens, I shove off the bike, stumbling a few feet away, sucking in air like it can burn him out of me. My boots crunch against gravel. The night wind stings, whipping my hair across my face, carrying the smell of dust.
But it doesn’t cover him. It never will.
He swings off the bike with unhurried grace, like he has all the time in the world. Like he knows I’m not going anywhere.
“Let me go,” I snap, though he already has. The words taste bitter, empty.
“You’re free,” he says simply, voice rough. “No cuffs. No chains. Just you and me.”
The way he says it makes it sound worse than chains.
I cross my arms, trying to fold the trembling out of them. “You should have left me at the bar.”
“I should have,” he agrees. Then his eyes catch mine and the corner of his mouth tilts. “But I didn’t.”
The bond hums between us. My wolf pushes at me, restless, aching to close the distance. I grit my teeth until my jaw aches.
“Why?” I demand.
His gaze flicks over me, slow, deliberate, like he’s cataloging every scar I try to hide, every ragged edge of me I thought I buried.
“Because you’re mine.”
The words slam into me like an unexpected force. My chest tightens, fury and longing twisted so tight I can’t tell them apart.
“I am not,” I spit, but the bond betrays me. My voice shakes. My wolf keens inside me, a sound of desperate hunger.
His smile sharpens, cruel and knowing. “Say it all you want, little rogue. Your scent tells the truth.”
My hand flies before I can think.
The crack of my palm across his jaw is loud.
For a moment, he just stands there, head tilted, silver eyes gleaming.
Then he laughs—low, dark, dangerous.
“You want to play it that way?”
My blade is in my hand before the last word leaves his mouth.
Moonlight glints off the steel. My chest heaves, fury burning hot and desperate.
“Try me.”
And just like that, the air between us is set on fire.
He lunges first. I twist the knife, flashing, barely missing his ribs. He grabs my wrist, twisting until the blade clatters to the dirt. I drive my knee up, aiming for his gut. He blocks, shoving me back against the hood of the bike.
Metal bites into my spine. He is in my face the next moment, his breath scorches my face.
“Fight me,” he growls.
I snarl, shoving off the bike, slamming my shoulder into him. For a second, I’m free—then he catches me again, spinning me, pinning me to the floor. Gravel cuts into my palms.
We’re both panting, the bond pumping in my blood. My claws threaten under my skin, my wolf clawing to break free. His wolf snarls in his chest, a sound that makes the hair on my neck rise.
Our eyes lock, silver to black.
And suddenly fists don’t feel like enough.
The fight shifts, anger softening into something hungrier. His grip on my wrists loosens, sliding down my arms like he can’t help but touch. My body betrays me, arching into him, heat flooding every nerve.
His mouth hovers above mine, so close I can feel the ghost of his breath. The world narrows to this: his weight pressing me down, the desert silent around us, the bond screaming louder than the organ beating in my chest.
I am almost broken. Gods, I almost tilt my chin, close that final inch, let him ruin me.
But I don’t.
With a yelp, I twist my head aside, teeth bared, every muscle trembling with the effort not to give in.
He freezes above me. A growl rumbling low in his throat.
And then, slowly, he pulls back.
The night rushes in again. My chest heaves, the feel of his mouth still burning at my lips.
“Your name,” he demands, voice rough. “Tell me who you are.”
My wolf surges, wanting to spill everything. To give him every secret I have locked away. To bare my throat, my scars, my truth.
But I can’t. I won’t.
“Lena,” I lie, the name heavy and bitter on my tongue.
His gaze searches mine, as if he can peel the truth out of me. For a heartbeat, I think he will call the lie, that he will rip it apart. But then his jaw tightens, and he nods once, slow.
“Lena,” he repeats, tasting it. Claiming it.
I force myself not to flinch.
The silence stretches and for the first time, I see something flicker beneath the outlaw’s Alpha. Not just anger. Not just violence.
Honor.
A code I don’t understand, but feel in my marrow.
It shouldn’t matter, but it does.
And that terrifies me more than anything.
He pushes off me, standing. He looks down, chest still heaving, silver eyes burning with something that’s not just hunger.
“This time,” he says slowly, “I will let you walk away.”
The desert wind blows between us, cold against my skin. My body aches with the lingering feeling of his touch, my lips tingling with the kiss that almost was.
His gaze locks on mine, merciless.
“Next time,” he promises, “I’m not letting you walk away.”
- Writer
