Chapter 5 Snow In The Desert
1276 Words
(Nikolai’s POV)
The forest has never been this quiet.
I’ve patrolled these borders a hundred times, but tonight feels… different.
The air is heavy. I can smell blood , faint, but close. It’s mixed with something else. Something soft. Something that makes my chest feel tight.
I follow the scent until I see her.
A girl.
She’s lying in the mud, torn up, her skin pale under the moonlight. Blood runs down her arm, and her breathing is shallow. Three dead rogues are around her, their bodies ripped apart.
For someone so small, she fought hard.
My wolf shifts uneasily inside me.
Help her.
It’s not a command. It’s a whisper. A strange, quiet pull I can’t explain.
I kneel beside her. She’s still alive , barely. Her hand twitches when I touch her shoulder.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Can you hear me?”
Her lips move, but no sound comes out.
Her eyes open for a second , bright gold, even in the dark. Then she whispers, “Please… don’t let me die.”
Something inside me snaps.
“I won’t,” I say, before I can stop myself. “You’ll live. I promise.”
She tries to smile. “Promises don’t mean much where I’m from.”
Then her eyes close again.
I scoop her up carefully, her blood soaking through my shirt. She’s light. Too light. And even though I don’t know her name, something in me already knows , I can’t let her die.
It’s been two days since I brought her back.
She’s healing faster than I expected, but I still find myself checking on her. Every morning. Every night.
I don’t know why.
I don’t save strangers. Not anymore.
My Beta, Ilya, says I’m getting soft. Maybe he’s right. But something about her scent still clings to me , like a thought I can’t shake.
I’m standing by the window when he knocks.
“She’s awake,” Ilya says, leaning on the doorframe.
I turn. “And?”
“She’s asking who saved her.”
I pause. “Tell her it doesn’t matter.”
Ilya smirks. “You could tell her yourself, you know.”
I glare at him. “Watch your tone.”
He raises his hands. “Just saying. Not every day you save a stranger from death, Alpha.”
“Not every day someone bleeds on my land,” I shoot back.
But my heart isn’t in the argument.
Because part of me wants to see her again.
The healer’s hut is quiet when I enter. The smell of herbs and smoke fills the air.
She’s sitting up on the bed, wrapped in a white blanket. Her hair is tangled, her face pale , but her eyes are awake now, and they follow me as I walk in.
She stiffens slightly, then lowers her gaze. “You’re the Alpha.”
“I am,” I reply.
“Bloodmoon Pack?”
I nod once. “You’re safe here.”
She hesitates. “You saved me.”
I don’t answer right away. “You were dying. My land, my rule.”
Her lips twitch into a tiny smile. “So you only saved me because I fell on your land?”
I shrug. “That’s one way to see it.”
She studies me for a moment, then says quietly, “Thank you… still.”
Her voice is soft. Honest. It does something strange to my chest.
“You shouldn’t thank me yet,” I say. “You’re not healed.”
“I’m stronger than I look.”
“Clearly,” I say dryly, glancing at the scars along her arm. “Three rogues is no small thing.”
“I didn’t kill them all,” she says. “Someone did. You.”
Her eyes meet mine again. “Why?”
That question again. The same one that’s been in my head since that night.
“Because you were there,” I say finally. “And I don’t like seeing good wolves die.”
She tilts her head. “How do you know I’m good?”
“I don’t,” I admit. “Not yet.”
Her lips curve into a small, sad smile. “Fair enough.”
I look at her , really look at her this time. She’s young. Maybe eighteen or nineteen. Too young to carry the kind of pain I see in her eyes.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Selena,” she says softly. “Selena Whitmore.”
“Where are you from, Selena Whitmore?”
She hesitates. “High Claw.”
I freeze. High Claw.
That pack’s name tastes bitter in my mouth. I know its Alpha , Zade Matthews. Arrogant. Pigheaded.
“What were you doing outside their territory?” I ask, my tone sharp.
Her hands tremble a little. “I wasn’t running from rogues. I was running away.”
“From what?”
She looks down. “From him.”
My brows furrow. “The Alpha?”
Her silence is my answer.
I take a slow breath. “He hurt you?”
She laughs , not with humor, but bitterness. “No. He just broke me.”
I don’t reply.
She keeps talking, her voice cracking slightly. “I found out he was my mate. On my birthday. I thought it was a gift from the Moon Goddess. But when he realized I was an omega, he looked at me like I was dirt. He said,”
Her voice cuts off. She swallows hard. “He said I wasn’t worthy. Then he rejected me in front of everyone.”
My fists clench. I don’t even realize I’m growling until she flinches.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, forcing myself to calm down. “I didn’t mean to,”
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It matters,” I say quietly.
She looks up, surprised.
“An Alpha who rejects his mate because of rank is no Alpha,” I continue. “He’s a coward.”
She blinks at me. “You… think that?”
“I know that.”
Her eyes glisten, but she looks away, pretending not to wipe her tears.
“You should rest,” I say after a moment.
“I’ve done enough resting,” she mutters.
“Then eat,” I reply, turning toward the door. “You’ll need strength if you plan to start over.”
“Start over?” she repeats. “You really think I can?”
I pause. “Only if you believe you can.”
For a moment, she just stares at me , like she’s trying to see through all the walls I’ve built.
Then she says softly, “Thank you, Alpha.”
I nod once and leave before I do something stupid , like sit beside her and ask her to tell me everything.
That night, sleep doesn’t come.
Her words replay in my head. Her pain feels… familiar.
I know what it’s like to lose everything. To have the goddess take what you love and call it destiny.
And now, for reasons I don’t understand, I feel this pull toward her , like gravity.
It’s not love. It’s not lust. It’s something else. Something I haven’t felt in years.
I stare at the blood moon outside my window.
The same moon that took
everything from me five years ago.
Maybe it’s trying to give me something back.
But I’m not ready.
I don’t even know what this feeling is.
All I know is that I can’t get Selena Whitmore out of my mind.
- Writer
