CHAPTER 3
1352 Words
HAZEL BLACKVALE
When I reach the living room, I stop suddenly.
The floor is covered in shards of broken bottles, the strong smell of alcohol filling the air.
Luke is sitting on the sofa, shirtless, head down, holding an almost empty bottle.
He drinks without stopping, as if he wants to destroy himself from the inside out.
My instinct tells me to turn back, close the door, and lock myself up again.
But my feet don’t move. I stay there, watching, until he notices my presence.
“Stay away.” His voice is low, dragged, heavy with alcohol and anger.
I don’t obey. I take another step, and another.
He raises the bottle to his mouth again, his shoulder muscles tense.
When he lifts his face, I see his eyes — red, almost glowing in the dim light.
“Go back to your room.”
“No.”
“Just obey once, Hazel.”
I descend the first step of the staircase and… then a sharp pain cuts through my foot.
I scream in pain.
I look down and see a piece of glass embedded in my skin.
My body leans forward to fall, but before that happens, he’s in front of me.
Too fast.
He scoops me up as if I weigh nothing, carrying me to the sofa.
“Stay still.”
“I can…”
“I said, stay still.”
He holds my leg, his touch firm, and carefully removes the glass, though I can’t help the moan of pain.
“Why are you drinking so much?”
His gaze lifts, full of anger, and for a moment I think he’s going to tell me to shut up.
But he just continues, wrapping a cloth around my foot as an improvised bandage.
When he’s done, I don’t move away.
On the contrary, I kneel on the sofa, dangerously close to him.
He watches me, confused and suspicious.
“What are you doing?”
“Just talk to me, Luke.”
“I’m not yours for you to try to heal me.”
When I try to touch his face, he grabs my wrist tightly, pushing me back against the sofa.
Suddenly, he’s on top of me, his body warm, the strong smell of alcohol and something else — something that wraps around me and leaves me breathless.
“Luke…”
He’s so close that I feel the heat of his breath on my face. My eyes wander, almost uncontrollably, to his lips.
Before I can do anything.
He kisses me.
It’s not soft, nor gentle. It’s intense, urgent, and for some reason I don’t stop him.
My mind screams, but my body… gives in.
His taste is a mixture of alcohol and something wilder.
When he pulls away, I can still feel his lips burning on mine.
I take a deep breath, unsure if I just made a mistake or crossed a line of no return.
He touches my face before rubbing his fingers on my lips.
“Your taste is so sweet…”
We kiss again.
He seems out of control, as if something inside him has finally broken, but, to my own surprise, I don’t care.
His hands slowly slide down my neck, exploring every inch firmly.
I feel his warm fingers tracing my skin until they reach the mark he left on my shoulder.
Luke kisses that spot and then licks the skin slowly, as if he wants to imprint the feeling of belonging in me again.
“My bite looks good on you…”
I close my eyes, surrendering to the moment. My breathing is fast as I feel his teeth biting my neck hard.
A moan escapes my lips. My hands find the back of his head, and I pull his hair firmly, hearing Luke moan my name.
He kisses the mark again and then begins descending with his lips along my collarbone, down the center of my chest, until reaching my stomach.
With every touch, I feel my muscles tense, my skin burning under his attention.
He stops for a moment, looks up at me, and says something that takes me by surprise:
“I’ve always wanted to do this with you… long before all this.”
The words confuse me. Before? Before what? Before the pack wars? Before the fights, the humiliations? My mind wants to ask questions, but my body doesn’t cooperate.
Luke kisses me again, now harder, more urgently. I feel his fingers gripping my waist firmly, while I instinctively dig my nails into his back, leaving deep scratches.
He doesn’t complain. On the contrary, he groans softly against my lips.
He gives me immense pleasure for the first time, and after the intense moment, I sigh, closing my eyes, still feeling my sweaty body and heavy breathing.
When he lays his head on my chest, I wrap my arms around him, squeezing tightly, and then my mind drifts back to when we were just children and best friends.
I wake hours later, still on the sofa, with Luke beside me.
The memory of the previous night returns with force, making my stomach churn. What the hell was I thinking?
Luke wakes shortly after.
He stares at me silently for a few seconds, then looks at our naked bodies, and I think maybe something has changed between us. But the illusion is brief.
“Don’t fool yourself,” he says coldly, moving away. “This changes nothing.”
He leaves the room, leaving me alone, and anger takes over me.
I stand and put on my clothes, feeling the rage burning inside, and head to my room.
I went to bed with my worst enemy, but it wasn’t exactly on the bed—it was on the sofa. The anger I feel now keeps me from laughing.
In the bathroom, I take off my clothes and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Red, purple, and small bite marks cover my body — his marks.
“D*mn…” I murmur.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I cannot lose control like that again. Not with him.
Determined to distract myself, I decide to visit my grandmother.
At some point, Luke’s men brought my suitcase, and I take the chance to put on a short, light dress.
When I go down the stairs, I find Luke in the kitchen, having coffee. He looks up at me and immediately frowns.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going like that?”
“None of your business.”
“Of course it’s my business.”
“We may be married now, and you may be my mate, but you don’t give me orders.” I cross my arms.
He looks at me, jaw clenched.
“You’re not going out.”
“Oh, I am.”
I walk past him, but hear his chair scrape the floor.
“You’re not going alone.”
I roll my eyes, but don’t answer.
Minutes later, I’m in the car, Luke driving in silence, face closed, clearly irritated.
When we arrive at my pack, I barely wait for the car to stop before opening the door and running.
My heart races as I see my grandmother sitting on the porch.
“Grandma!” I exclaim, running to hug her.
She smiles tenderly, caressing my face.
“You’re so beautiful…”
I notice her eyes moving past me, and I know exactly who she’s looking at.
Luke stands near the car, broad shoulders exposed, straight posture, watching everything attentively.
“So this is the werewolf…” my grandmother comments, smiling. “More frightening and handsome in person.”
I roll my eyes.
“He’s also a huge jerk,” I say, not lowering my voice, knowing full well he hears every word.
Luke just keeps his gaze fixed, expressionless, but I know the comment hits him.
“I’ll wait in the car,” he says firmly, stepping back and leaning against the vehicle, arms crossed.
I pretend not to care, focusing on my grandmother, but the feeling of being watched never leaves me for a second.
- Writer
